way up the winding road in the northeastern section of the community. Mountains and bare tree branches framed the French Baroque architecture of Lumière Academy.
Two dozen people milled about the entrance of the parking lot.
Tristan's fingers tightened around the wheel.
"What's going on?" Helene asked.
The crowd's attention latched on to our car.
More specifically, me.
"It's her!"
Points. Shouts.
I couldn't hear much through the closed windows, but the handwritten signs were perfectly legible.
Down with Irisavie!
Ondines ≠ Chevaliers
Where is the sondaleur?
Anxiety twisted up my spine. Heartbeat accelerated.
Several gardinels pushed people back, opening a safe path for us to drive through.
"Hang on." Tristan carefully navigated into the lot.
"Are they protesting?" Helene sounded excited. "This is amazing!"
The crowd's visceral anger reached into the car and smacked me in the face.
I was used to being strongly disliked and gossiped about.
But this wasn't about me. It was about the Irisavies.
These were the same people who called my mother crazy and talked about her as if her life were a form of cheap entertainment. The ones who wanted to see my grandmother out of power even though she'd sacrificed everything to keep them safe.
The ones who didn't believe I could be chevalier or sondaleur .
Anger swelled and hands tightened into fists.
"Don't give them what they want," Tristan murmured.
He pulled into a spot near the administration building. I reached for my handle and his hand shot out.
"Wait."
Fifteen minutes later, Academy gardinels pushed the last of the protestors off campus grounds.
"Okay."
Helene climbed out and I turned to him. "You want to tell me what's going on?"
No one told me protestors would be waiting for me. And judging from the gardinels dealing with the crowd, Tristan had expected it.
He exhaled. "Two weeks ago, the Governing Council found out what you did at the Lyondale factory. News also spread through Haverleau."
Which meant everyone knew my grandmother had circumvented appropriate protocol and undertook a deadly strike based on the word of two ondine teenagers and a nix.
"Ian —"
"He's safe. I have round the clock extra protection on him and he's still directly under the Governor's eye in the Royal Gardens."
The beginnings of a headache pulsed behind my eye.
"Given the situation with Marcella and Gabe, people have begun to suspect who the next Governor might be," he continued.
And they had the exact same reaction as Fujio.
"You could have told me this earlier," I said wearily.
"You have enough to worry about right now."
Through the window, I saw Helene filming the majestic contours of the school.
Sitting in Tristan's car reminded me of my first day here. Things were so much simpler back then.
"How did the Council find out?"
Tristan rubbed his eyes. "The information seems to have stemmed from Marquisa LeVeq."
How did Julian's mother find out about a highly classified operation? I doubted her son or the other participants told her.
Uneasiness rose. A traitor was betraying us on every level. I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with this as well.
Maybe that's why Rhian suspected he was on the Council.
Tristan turned, one hand resting behind my seat head and the other on the dashboard.
"Just..." His voice trailed off and for a moment, I thought he'd lean in and touch me.
But his face remained blank. "Just be careful, Kendra."
An echo of disappointment. "Of course."
I grabbed my duffel bag from the trunk and joined Helene in the middle of the lot.
Camera focused on a car four stalls over. "Is that yours?"
"My baby." I beamed at the red, dilapidated Datsun. No more crazy cabs or Renee's maniacal driving. "How'd you know?"
"Julian said you had an unnatural love for the ugliest car at school."
I scowled and walked over to it. She followed. "Someday, Helene, when you buy a car with your own hard-earned cash, you'll understand the feeling."
Of
Two dozen people milled about the entrance of the parking lot.
Tristan's fingers tightened around the wheel.
"What's going on?" Helene asked.
The crowd's attention latched on to our car.
More specifically, me.
"It's her!"
Points. Shouts.
I couldn't hear much through the closed windows, but the handwritten signs were perfectly legible.
Down with Irisavie!
Ondines ≠ Chevaliers
Where is the sondaleur?
Anxiety twisted up my spine. Heartbeat accelerated.
Several gardinels pushed people back, opening a safe path for us to drive through.
"Hang on." Tristan carefully navigated into the lot.
"Are they protesting?" Helene sounded excited. "This is amazing!"
The crowd's visceral anger reached into the car and smacked me in the face.
I was used to being strongly disliked and gossiped about.
But this wasn't about me. It was about the Irisavies.
These were the same people who called my mother crazy and talked about her as if her life were a form of cheap entertainment. The ones who wanted to see my grandmother out of power even though she'd sacrificed everything to keep them safe.
The ones who didn't believe I could be chevalier or sondaleur .
Anger swelled and hands tightened into fists.
"Don't give them what they want," Tristan murmured.
He pulled into a spot near the administration building. I reached for my handle and his hand shot out.
"Wait."
Fifteen minutes later, Academy gardinels pushed the last of the protestors off campus grounds.
"Okay."
Helene climbed out and I turned to him. "You want to tell me what's going on?"
No one told me protestors would be waiting for me. And judging from the gardinels dealing with the crowd, Tristan had expected it.
He exhaled. "Two weeks ago, the Governing Council found out what you did at the Lyondale factory. News also spread through Haverleau."
Which meant everyone knew my grandmother had circumvented appropriate protocol and undertook a deadly strike based on the word of two ondine teenagers and a nix.
"Ian —"
"He's safe. I have round the clock extra protection on him and he's still directly under the Governor's eye in the Royal Gardens."
The beginnings of a headache pulsed behind my eye.
"Given the situation with Marcella and Gabe, people have begun to suspect who the next Governor might be," he continued.
And they had the exact same reaction as Fujio.
"You could have told me this earlier," I said wearily.
"You have enough to worry about right now."
Through the window, I saw Helene filming the majestic contours of the school.
Sitting in Tristan's car reminded me of my first day here. Things were so much simpler back then.
"How did the Council find out?"
Tristan rubbed his eyes. "The information seems to have stemmed from Marquisa LeVeq."
How did Julian's mother find out about a highly classified operation? I doubted her son or the other participants told her.
Uneasiness rose. A traitor was betraying us on every level. I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with this as well.
Maybe that's why Rhian suspected he was on the Council.
Tristan turned, one hand resting behind my seat head and the other on the dashboard.
"Just..." His voice trailed off and for a moment, I thought he'd lean in and touch me.
But his face remained blank. "Just be careful, Kendra."
An echo of disappointment. "Of course."
I grabbed my duffel bag from the trunk and joined Helene in the middle of the lot.
Camera focused on a car four stalls over. "Is that yours?"
"My baby." I beamed at the red, dilapidated Datsun. No more crazy cabs or Renee's maniacal driving. "How'd you know?"
"Julian said you had an unnatural love for the ugliest car at school."
I scowled and walked over to it. She followed. "Someday, Helene, when you buy a car with your own hard-earned cash, you'll understand the feeling."
Of
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