If there was one thing I hated more than not knowing, it was waiting.
The next day did nothing but intensify that feeling.
Caleb was still distant and pale.
Still quiet - moving through the world like it was his last day on earth.
The girls noticed too - of course they did - but they did nothing about it. They hovered. They whispered. They exchanged looks like that counted as action.
It didn't.
They would make good soldiers because they listened to orders, but they took no initiative themselves.
Even Elizabeth, for all her bluster and bravado, didn't do anything - not even confront him.
It irritated me more than I could properly articulate.
They were lost sheep.
They treated Caleb like he was untouchable. Like one wrong word from him might shatter them, so it was safer to say nothing at all.
I told myself that if they truly cared, they would do something. Anything. Instead, they waited - like disciples waiting for permission to speak.
Useless.
For a brief moment, I wondered if they were simply afraid. But I dismissed the thought immediately. Fear was no excuse for inaction.
I couldn't understand why Caleb was friends with them, if that was what they were.
They hovered close to him without ever touching him, like birds too timid to land.
I watched them more closely then, and the comparison came unbidden. None of them were lacking, exactly.
Each of them were either taller, fairer, and more spirited than me - but none had all three at the same time.
I had it enough of all, though. I was trained, far more confident, controlled and graceful. I was whole, and carried myself that way.
I was a princess. They were not. Of course they followed and waited. I didn't.
After class, Caleb stood up, gathered his things, and left without a word. Again.
This time, I didn't bother asking the girls what they thought - they wouldn't be any help anyway.
I followed him.
He didn't seem to notice - or if he did, he didn't react. He walked with purpose now, not wandering like before. Not with enthusiasm, but like he just had to do something.
I was aware, distantly, that following him so openly might be awkward or draw unnecessary gossip, but the risk barely registered. If anyone noticed, let them.
He went down one corridor, then another. Toward the upper classrooms.
Class 5. What was he doing there? Meeting Jakob?
If not, why?
Meeting another student?
I hesitated only a second before positioning myself just outside the open door, far enough not to be obvious, close enough to see.
Inside, he went straight to someone.
A girl. A woman.
Twenty, maybe. Tall, composed, but it was obvious that she wasn't the fit type.
...But she was more of a "woman" than either me or any the girls were.
She turned when he approached, surprise flashing across her face.
They spoke quietly. I couldn't hear the words, only saw the way Caleb's shoulders squared, like he was bracing himself.
At first, I thought he just wanted to shift his weight, but then he bent his knee and knelt.
The movement was smooth and deliberate. My mind rejected it outright.
For a moment, I thought I'd misunderstood. That my eyes were lying to me. There was no reason for this - none that would make sense.
He reached into his pocket.
It felt like I was losing all of my breath - it was being forced out of me.
The sound of the room faded, replaced by a dull pressure in my ears. Everything seemed to die down, and I could only see the two of them standing there.
Caleb said something - something long, practiced, earnest. His face wasn't distant now. It was focused. Certain and calm. He wasn't joking.
The girl didn't say anything at first - just stared at him.
Everything Caleb said sounded like he'd practiced this moment until it felt familiar.
"No," she said, and laughed once, awkward and soft. She reached out as if to help him up, murmuring something I couldn't hear - probably an apology. Hopefully.
Caleb nodded.
That was it.
No visible disappointment. No embarrassment. He rose smoothly, like this was an expected outcome, apologized, and turned away.
My confusion hadn't even settled before he stopped in front of another girl.
Another conversation. Another kneel.
Another rejection.
This time gentler. That time firmer. Different expressions, but all with the same result.
Caleb didn't linger on any of them.
He moved through the room with methodical calm, like he was checking items off a list. Ask. Listen. Accept. Move on.
One girl didn't answer immediately. She asked him something instead, her brow furrowed. For half a heartbeat, I thought she might say yes.
Then she shook her head.
Caleb thanked her anyway, the same calm cadence as before, as if the near miss meant nothing at all.
My stomach twisted all the same. What is happening?
All of the rejections did absolutely nothing to him, as if the answer itself mattered less than the act of asking.
For the entire day, I watched him - always approaching someone, always the same.
Class 5 first. Then Class 4. By the end of the day, about three fourths of Class 3.
Every answer was no. I tried to count at some point and gave up - not because I couldn't, but because the number itself felt obscene.
Some were kind. Some were baffled. One girl looked almost angry. Another seemed genuinely sad to refuse him.
Caleb reacted to all of it the same way.
With acceptance. With the unnerving air of someone who was not hoping for a yes.
There was a wisp of a thought in the back of my mind about why he didn't ask me. I was a princess, after all. I had more worth than any of the other girls he asked - but I quickly dismissed it.
After he was almost finished with Class 3, he stopped suddenly.
He didn't ask anyone else, leaving some of Class 3 - and the entirety of Classes 2 and 1, A and B - alone. But in that time, he must have asked hundreds of people to marry him.
He simply stood there for a moment, as if he'd reached the end of something.
There was something about the way he stopped that unsettled me more than everything that had come before. Not defeated. Not relieved. Just… done.
I waited for something - for him to show something. Hesitation, frustration, relief, anything - but none of it came. When he stopped, it was a final mark.
He left. I didn't follow. Not yet. I needed to cool down first; if not, I would boil over.
I steadied myself. I would curse, if I had not been taught over and over again that a princess doesn't do that.
Not too long after, when I thought I'd been alone with my thoughts long enough and most of the shock had subsided - when the sun had almost settled - I found him.
He sat on a bench near the outer grounds of the academy, looking at the dying sunset alone.
His posture was folded inward, and he looked at the ground.
For a moment, I watched him.
I watched him - the way his gaze drifted along the horizon.
I rehearsed half a dozen openings in my mind - accusations, demands, even concern. I discarded most of them as my anger warred against my other senses and grew uncontrollable.
Then my temper won.
"What in the blazes is going on with you?" I demanded.
He looked up slowly.
There was only resignation in his face.
"Well," he said, almost amused, "I suppose I'll be seen as a weirdo from now on."
"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "The entire school will think that! Why did you do that?!"
That earned a faint huff of air that might have been a laugh. He shifted slightly, making space on the bench.
I sat.
I waited for an explanation. Any explanation.
None came.
Then, as if he'd reached some internal conclusion, Caleb turned his head toward me.
I expected him to tell me what was going on, in detail. Or to apologize.
"Would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow?" he asked.
"Is this a joke?" I asked. "You asked every girl to marry you, and you'll only ask me out for a date?"
I didn't know why I was so upset, but I was - and I let him know.
He looked at me with wide eyes. "Is that a no?"
My first instinct was outrage. Where was the ceremony? I was someone of the highest social rank.
My second was denial. Why would I? We were in no way on equal footing. What was he thinking?
My third was that I wanted to say yes.
He was… my best friend.
I opened my mouth to refuse.
"Yes," I said instead - and actually cursed aloud.
I told myself I'd made a mistake.
I felt heat rush to my face - irritation and something else tangled together so tightly I couldn't separate them.
Caleb studied me for a moment, then nodded once, as if that, too, had been expected.
"All right," he said softly. "Tomorrow evening. Wear something nice."