Four

Roselle was draped dramatically across her sister’s bed, her head dangling off the side, looking out at the room as she watched Kesritae read through her council papers. She sighed dramatically in the stillness of the room; a call for attention.

“If you’re bored,” Kesritae murmured, hardly paying attention. “You’re welcome to leave.” The crisp flip of a page sending a shiver down Roselle’s spine. Her sister sat with her perfect posture at her too-neat desk in the corner of her spotless room.

“No,” Roselle rolled over to lay on her stomach, her feet rising to point to the ceiling. “I’m not bored.”

“Right,” there was a slight curve in Kesritae’s lips. “That sigh was because you’re having a great time watching me work.” She raised an auburn eyebrow at her, turquoise eyes like their father’s filled with amused doubt.

“What is it this time?” Roselle tipped her head, only mildly interested.

“A proposal for a leadership vote was called this morning,” Kesritae’s eyes glinted as she waited for Roselle’s reaction.

“What,” she gasped, her whole body suddenly at attention.

“I know,” a smile stretched across her similar features.

“You’re kidding,” Roselle stared at her, her whole body suddenly buzzing at the news. “Really?”

“Really,” she nodded.

“No more Maishear?” Roselle checked, her mind swirling with the possibilities.

“Not necessarily,” her sister cautioned, still with the smile on her face. “But there’s many on the council that are getting frustrated with him. He still has his support, but I’m not sure how many of them are just following along or not.” She shrugged, turning to face Roselle fully in her chair, papers temporarily set aside. “Daunshi announced his proposal this morning,” her eyes sparkled. “He might be up for the job, and I think I’d be okay with that.”

Roselle pondered on who she knew as who taught her pre-union history lessons, and there was no doubt that he had expertise on leadership, but she wasn’t about to entrust him with the academy either. Then again, anyone was better than Maishear.

“We just need a seventy-five percent approval for the vote to go through,” Kesritae shrugged. “That’s the only challenge. I don’t know if there are enough on the council who will go for it.”

Roselle snorted. That man’s support should have ended as soon as he started acting like he owned the place. He did own the land, but it didn’t give him the right to everyone who lived there or what they had built over the last nine years. “Tell me,” she shifted, barely containing her excitement. “What did he look like? How mad did he look?”

“Not as mad as I thought he would be,” Kesritae admitted. “He was surprisingly agreeable for once.”

Roselle rolled her eyes. “Of course he was, that-” she cut herself off with a shake of the head.

Kesritae hummed, turning her attention back to her paperwork, marking something on the page with her pencil. “I’m not getting my hopes up too high, but it will be interesting to see how this plays out.”

“He should’ve been out years ago,” Roselle grumbled.

“It’s more complicated than you think.”

She huffed, tired of that same excuse for every problem. She rolled back to her previous position, hand freeing her hair from where it was trapped under her head, letting her curls tumble over the edge.

Kesritae glanced over at her again. “How do you not get dizzy sitting like that?”

Roselle shrugged. “It makes me feel like I’m floating.”

Her sister shook her head fondly, but didn’t say anything.

“Have you heard anything from Maman and Papa?”

“Not since last week.”

Roselle tried not to let the disappointment get to her. Kesritae was one of the few to have a phone in the academy due to the headmaster’s technology restrictions to ‘retain their cultural independence.’ For her, it meant that she could only ever communicate with their parents indirectly or if she borrowed said phone. Kesritae was only lucky enough to have it because of her position of practically being in charge of the observances defending their sanctuary. With the expansion of the field project, Kesritae had it to communicate with those sent to retrieve other Hecathians out in human society. She just happened to make an extra call each week, no big deal.

“What about Liam?” She asked, referring to their brother, who had gone undercover in a college a few states over.

“He says he’s making progress,” Kesritae flipped to a new page. “It’s only been three weeks, but the boy he’s been befriending is more aware of the situation. It’s just a matter of convincing.”

“I guess I still don’t understand why we have to convince them to come here,” Roselle sighed. “Why not just let them know we exist and we’re an option.”

“If there were more of us out there, I’d agree with you,” Kesritae’s voice was grim and low. “We just can’t risk anything. Our enemies are still out there.”

Didn’t she know it. Their enemies were all their parents ever talked about before they came to the academy, constantly afraid that a stranger who stared too long may have been dangerous.

“Besides,” Kesritae interrupted her thoughts. “We were some of those who were convinced to come here.” She swept a glance over to her. “I don’t know about you, but despite the messy politics of it all, I don’t regret it, and I don’t think Maman and Papa do either.”

“I still don’t like it,” Roselle insisted. “I don’t get it, but if someone is happy building a human life, even going to college…”

“I see your point,” Kesritae told her. “I’m just offering the other side.”

“I mean, human life is so dull,” Roselle scrunched up her nose. “You go to school, then you go to school to get a job, then you get a job and work until you’re too old or die.”

“What a way to sum that up,” Kesritae shot her a look.

“You can’t tell me it’s not true,” Roselle argued.

“No,” Kesritae granted, though hesitantly. “You’re just missing a great deal in that description. It’s not like we don’t work too.”

“Yeah, but not like them,” she insisted. “They focus more on selling things, and we focus on making them. They’re all about taking things, and we center around the balance.”

Kesritae sighed. “Just because humans are different, doesn’t mean we’re better.” Her eyes were cautious, and held a warning. “And remember that our parents chose to live a human life. I don’t blame some of our people for choosing a life of simplicity and routine after our way failed, and neither should you.”

Roselle was quiet, her lips pressed into a frown. She hated when her sister was right, but it didn’t change her mind.

Kesritae continued after a minute had passed. “We’ve been here for three years,” she reminded her. “You were in human society longer than you have been in Hecathian society, so as much as you dislike it, you seemed to do pretty well for those eight years.”

“Because I didn’t know any better,” Roselle glared at her, though it was, once again, true.

Kesritae gave her one last exasperated look before going back to work. The silence was comfortable and familiar for them. Since Roselle could remember, she had always hung around either Kesritae or Liam as they did homework or actual work. Her heart warmed at the memory of Kesritae telling her that her presence helped her concentrate. Considering her sister was incredibly selective in who she spent her time with, it was a privilege to be there.

Did Roselle have a pile of books to study back at her observance? Absolutely, but that fact was being pushed to the back of her mind while she enjoyed listening to the occasional flip of a page and scratch of graphite.

“I hope the vote goes through,” she murmured, the quiet carrying her soft voice.

“Only time will tell.”