and the maengu in the eighth are water creatures, who can also transform to come onto land. And then in the ninth . . . well, we call them the phoenixes, and they can only take on a human form for one month in every nine.”
He left it at that.
Like actors in a play, the prince and I spoke only when directed by Mr. Sylaeia. The rest of the class was infuriatingly silent. They knew nothing, even when Mr. Sylaeia asked them for the basics that would have been obvious to any human elsewhere.
Eventually, he gave up, turning to me, his tone much softened now. “The fas, or basic principles, if you will, Autumn.”
“The wielding of energy, preservation of the balance of nature, courtesy in respect to rank, loyalty to Athenea, and strict adherence to the Terra Treaties.”
Though Sagean was a tongue stifled beneath the other, it still felt strange to speak those words in English, when I had repeated them as a mantra in my native language as a child. They did not belong in this language. This tongue could not convey the beauty and binding power of those words.
Mr. Sylaeia pulled out the board marker that lived in his shirt pocket, scribbling out each of the fas. “The first four are quite self-explanatory: magic; a respect for nature, especially concerning diet and, more recently, climate change; etiquette; and loyalty to the Sagean royalty. Does anybody know what the Terra Treaties are?”
I could see Fallon perk up, gazing around the room as his eyes became wider and wider. His lips parted.
“Nobody?” Mr. Sylaeia clicked the lid of his pen shut with the palm of his hand. “Nobody at all?”
A chill passed up my spine at the disturbed silence. I knew there were many things they didn’t know. I knew that beyond how hot the nobility was and who was dating whom there was no interest in my people. Yet to not know what the treaties were . . .
Mr. Sylaeia answered his own question. “The Terra is the name given to a group of treaties signed universally by all dimensions and humanity in the early nineteenth century, formalizing what had previously been a set of uncoordinated laws. The Terra Treaties are the reason Autumn and Fallon are sitting in this room as guardians, here to protect the school. The Terra Treaties are what binds a dark being, under penalty of death, to never harm a human unless lives are threatened, with the exemption of the vampires—who wouldn’t be able to survive without this exception. The Terra Treaties are what essentially keep the peace that you enjoy.”
Nobody spoke. It was not a stunned silence, the quiet of a class in awe. It was bored silence. This was not achievement to them, or reassurance, it was politics: boring, mind-numbing politics that—beyond the hot prince—did not touch upon their closeted lives. I shivered at those words; I could still remember the whispered utterance that came with their mention in the classes at St. Sapphire’s: the pride that our race had negotiated stability for all dark beings. The treaties did not bring stability now. They didn’t bring anything.
“They won’t hold us in peace much longer, will they?” I said before I could hold my tongue. But I decided I wanted to continue. Why lull in a false sense of safety? “Humans are in conflict with dark beings everywhere. And situations like what has happened with Violet Lee only make things worse! Meanwhile, enemies of us all take advantage of the conflict to try and make the Terra fall apart, and cause war . . . enemies I am trying to protect you from,” I finished quietly, eyes bowed to my book.
The class finally broke their silence and erupted into murmurs, followed by protests about how it wasn’t the humans’ fault. Mr. Sylaeia’s eyes widened and it didn’t matter how much he rapped on the board; the room wouldn’t quiet down.
I buried my head in my hands and dug my nails into my scalp. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? Now everybody would think I hated them, and they hated me
He left it at that.
Like actors in a play, the prince and I spoke only when directed by Mr. Sylaeia. The rest of the class was infuriatingly silent. They knew nothing, even when Mr. Sylaeia asked them for the basics that would have been obvious to any human elsewhere.
Eventually, he gave up, turning to me, his tone much softened now. “The fas, or basic principles, if you will, Autumn.”
“The wielding of energy, preservation of the balance of nature, courtesy in respect to rank, loyalty to Athenea, and strict adherence to the Terra Treaties.”
Though Sagean was a tongue stifled beneath the other, it still felt strange to speak those words in English, when I had repeated them as a mantra in my native language as a child. They did not belong in this language. This tongue could not convey the beauty and binding power of those words.
Mr. Sylaeia pulled out the board marker that lived in his shirt pocket, scribbling out each of the fas. “The first four are quite self-explanatory: magic; a respect for nature, especially concerning diet and, more recently, climate change; etiquette; and loyalty to the Sagean royalty. Does anybody know what the Terra Treaties are?”
I could see Fallon perk up, gazing around the room as his eyes became wider and wider. His lips parted.
“Nobody?” Mr. Sylaeia clicked the lid of his pen shut with the palm of his hand. “Nobody at all?”
A chill passed up my spine at the disturbed silence. I knew there were many things they didn’t know. I knew that beyond how hot the nobility was and who was dating whom there was no interest in my people. Yet to not know what the treaties were . . .
Mr. Sylaeia answered his own question. “The Terra is the name given to a group of treaties signed universally by all dimensions and humanity in the early nineteenth century, formalizing what had previously been a set of uncoordinated laws. The Terra Treaties are the reason Autumn and Fallon are sitting in this room as guardians, here to protect the school. The Terra Treaties are what binds a dark being, under penalty of death, to never harm a human unless lives are threatened, with the exemption of the vampires—who wouldn’t be able to survive without this exception. The Terra Treaties are what essentially keep the peace that you enjoy.”
Nobody spoke. It was not a stunned silence, the quiet of a class in awe. It was bored silence. This was not achievement to them, or reassurance, it was politics: boring, mind-numbing politics that—beyond the hot prince—did not touch upon their closeted lives. I shivered at those words; I could still remember the whispered utterance that came with their mention in the classes at St. Sapphire’s: the pride that our race had negotiated stability for all dark beings. The treaties did not bring stability now. They didn’t bring anything.
“They won’t hold us in peace much longer, will they?” I said before I could hold my tongue. But I decided I wanted to continue. Why lull in a false sense of safety? “Humans are in conflict with dark beings everywhere. And situations like what has happened with Violet Lee only make things worse! Meanwhile, enemies of us all take advantage of the conflict to try and make the Terra fall apart, and cause war . . . enemies I am trying to protect you from,” I finished quietly, eyes bowed to my book.
The class finally broke their silence and erupted into murmurs, followed by protests about how it wasn’t the humans’ fault. Mr. Sylaeia’s eyes widened and it didn’t matter how much he rapped on the board; the room wouldn’t quiet down.
I buried my head in my hands and dug my nails into my scalp. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? Now everybody would think I hated them, and they hated me
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