Still by the bonfire, Evan eventually leaves me. It’s not exactly that he wanted to, but he’s been nodding off, so I told him to get to bed. I think I can handle being alone for an hour or two.

The fire’s going strong, a beacon in the night, warm and bright. Hardly any wind, the smoke hasn’t been a problem at all. Only a handful of students remain, pretty much matching the number of teachers around (can’t let anyone sneak off for some fun). Then there’s a few manservants, adding wood to the fire now and then. A group of maids were here earlier (I couldn’t tell if that included Len), but they only stayed an hour or so after the fireworks; there might have been a touch of red to their cheeks, some merriment that wasn’t entirely to do with the celebration.

Community, huh. I guess it’s no coincidence that every culture has festivals and feasts and all that.

Though I’ve kept an eye out, I haven’t noticed anyone I know. Or rather, I haven’t seen the princes around (other than Evan and Cyril). Speaking of, I didn’t bring my handbag this time, so I’ve just kept the present on my lap this whole time.

Anyway, I have another look around now. From two-hundred to twenty-ish. A large group of guys makes up half, then a couple of small groups of ladies, a couple of pairs of ladies. Ah, but there is someone standing alone. Nearly on the other side of the bonfire, I can’t easily tell if uniform is trousers or a dress, hair a length that stops just above the shoulders.

I suppose I could always get up and walk over.

My legs are okay, having moved them around enough to keep them from getting stiff again. However, it’s been a long evening, my steps short and light lest my balance decides to get lost. Been a while since I’ve eaten, my throat a little parched too.

Rounding the bonfire, I see that it’s an unfamiliar guy. Like I’ve been doing until now, he stares into the flames as if entranced; his jacket is unbuttoned at the front and his hands (up by his chest) are turned, palms facing the fire. Hard to tell with nothing to reference around him, I have to get decently close before I can judge his height—somewhat short, but only a touch shorter than me. (So not as short as Julian, who is noticeably shorter than me.)

I think over the last two princes, and it’s definitely not dopey, but it might be happy. However, I can’t say that confidently. The only “evidence” is that he’s alone and not big and muscled.

He doesn’t notice me (or pay me any attention if he does) as I walk over. Loosely at his side, I look at the bonfire. It’s a good angle. From here, you can see the school behind, shadows and light playing on the back of the building; and higher, the moon shines bright—nearly but not quite full.

“Good evening to you,” I say.

He sucks in a sharp breath. Oh dear, did I scare him?

“Um, good evening,” he mumbles. It’s a soft voice, the tone a bit high-pitched for a man.

“I am Nora de Kent, and you are?”

Although I can’t see him well out the corner of my eye, he’s noticeably fixing his attire, buttoning up his jacket. “Miles Barton.”

Well, here’s finally the happy prince himself. I did keep an eye out for him, but I guess the stuff he did in the book didn’t happen here (probably because there’s a curfew, something that didn’t exist in Snowdrop and the Seven Princes).

Colours hard to tell in the light of the fire, I use what Ellie read to fill in the gaps. Dark brown hair, but it’s rather reflective—that is, it looks blonde in sunlight and ginger in the glow of the bonfire. His eyes are a light brown that has a certain yellowness to it, a shade (supposedly) like honey. I thought honey was more sort of orange-yellow, but let’s not get in the way of a good simile.

Personality-wise, he’s happy (duh). I say that, but what does “happy” mean? A happy person. The book didn’t go into details, really. Someone who is always smiling, always cheerful—that’s it, right?

But you can smile even if you’re hurting inside. Though, I don’t say that out of any insight, no idea at all about Miles’s feelings.

He’s the third child, second son of a baron if I remember correctly. Likely, he’ll drop down to the middle-class, unlikely he’ll marry up. (To marry up, that would be to a woman who holds a baron, count or duke title herself, rather than just a count or duke’s daughter.) However, I don’t think that is the sort of thing that would upset him. In the chapter he featured in (and hardly outside of it), he didn’t seem to be a greedy or indulgent person. Simple, straightforward, easily pleased by nature’s beauty (and by Eleanor’s).

Why did the other ladies make him one of the school’s princes? It was near the start of the book, so my memory (or rather Ellie’s) is a bit fuzzy. He was the second “conquest” after Evan, thus Ellie realised it was a pretty terrible book and read it less thoroughly.

Was it his smile? Yes, I think so. He has a very natural smile compared to the polite smiles most show. My mother often warned me to take care for a man with a sweet smile, and I guess that advice was ignored by Eleanor.

Well, to be honest, Miles was probably the most understandable “romance” Eleanor had. They ran into each other one evening, and she liked his smile, and he liked her look, and things carried on from there as they do when it comes to teenagers. I can certainly understand the appeal of being complimented and of light-hearted chats, and the allure of a kiss under the full moon.

Of course, I wouldn’t do that with a guy after doing a lot more than that with another guy just a week before. It wasn’t explained why Eleanor moved on. Grass is always greener, huh?

Anything else…. Happy Miles has the light faerie king’s heart, so he has a strong talent for light magic. I wonder, was that him at the, um, test class at the start of term? Didn’t really pay attention back then.

“Did you have some business with me?” he asks. From the sound of it, he’s recovered from the fright I gave him—only Evan so shy.

“I thought the bonfire something better enjoyed with good company, that is all,” I say.

“And you thought I would make good company?”

Tilting my head, I tidy some loose hair behind my ear, humming a note. “I guess time will tell, so count this as your boon for now.”

He laughs, and it’s a pleasant laugh. Yes, an easygoing, pleasant person. Always sets a good mood, eager to laugh at whatever jokes. Just the sort of person Ellie couldn’t relate to, nor can I. I mean, the only way someone is always happy is if they lie, right?

That’s not to say I hate him or anything, just that… I feel we probably can’t be actual friends, only acquaintances.

For now, I focus on the bonfire. It’s easy to talk with him if the topic is light, so I ask him what class he’s in (Crocus), how he liked the fireworks (fantastic), and of course he asks me the same questions back. I don’t ask if he’s been enjoying school, but a more tempered how has he found school. He gives a bland response. “It’s been interesting to meet so many new people.” I push a little on that, and he tells me he attended a school closer to his home (Blackpool) before, so he didn’t know anyone at the start.

Then he asks me how I’ve found school. With a smile, I say, “It has been most interesting, meeting so many new people.”

If everyone else gets to parrot my words back to me, why can’t I do the same to them?

Anyway, I mean what I said more earnestly than him, and that came through in my warm tone. Evan, Julian, Ms Berks, even Lady Horsham (Cyril not included since I knew him before), to say nothing of the people in town.

And he hasn’t met anyone, has he? But he won’t say that and hide behind pleasantries. Ah, it’s like with Gerald again, me getting stuck on one point. Just… I only get stuck on these points because they prick me when we talk. I’m not so desperate for friends that I’ll put up with it, don’t want to talk to people that make me feel uncomfortable.

As if he can pick up on my inner animosity, we fall into a silence. Maybe I don’t hide it as well as I thought.

By now, it must be nearing midnight. There’s distant sounds of celebration still coming from the town, the odd cheer or shout, or a song pushed along by a mild breeze. Samhain is commonly said to last from dusk to dawn and I’m starting to believe it. I idly wonder what Lottie is doing (probably at home, entertaining Gwen with stories until she passes out, having trouble sleeping because of the noise), what Iris and her parents are up to (probably at a party with the older sister’s family), where Millie, Len and Annie are (probably Len with her fiancé, the other two with family).

What would they say if I told them I attended a bonfire and watched the fireworks with a boy? Oh they would tease me, wouldn’t they? And if I told them I then chatted up another boy, they’d ask me if I’m “that kind of girl” with a laugh, or something like that.

I wonder if the earlier mood still lingers, making me think of all the people I know. A sense of community that’s strengthened even when we’re apart. I clutch the hot-water bottle tighter, my wandering thoughts drifting as far as my distant family. Joshua’s probably long since asleep, but missed us all earlier. (I only had to start boarding school at thirteen, not eleven, so I can’t imagine it’s as easy for him as his letters say.) Clarice is probably with friends at some private event. My mother and father are probably drinking, perhaps lonely as none of us children are there.

Well, there’ll always be times we must be apart, but I hope, no, wish there’ll always be times when we come together again.

Staring at the bonfire this whole time, I quickly notice the change in the embers—as if some chemical has been added, flickers of an emerald green in the air. Only, they’re more like fireflies, hovering rather than rising. A loose ring of these bright spots that slowly circle around the bonfire, rising and falling as if lifted by waves.

My eyes adjusting to them, I realise there’s also red lights that aren’t behaving like embers. Even when I notice them, it’s hard to actually see them, the colour so similar to the coals and blending in well with the flames. And then… pale brown? It’s nearly white, like wheat or a gentle tan. Azure too, a watery shade that reminds me of (Ellie using) a Bunsen burner. As if blurry, faded spots that are white and a metallic grey join in, and there’s a hint of a yellow.

Together, all these lights fantastic dance to a tune only nature knows.

I forget to breathe, glance at my side only to see that Miles doesn’t see what I do—it would show on his face if he did. Are they faeries? Magic? Flickers of mythology, the thinning boundary between our worlds.

It’s hard to say how long it lasts, but as suddenly as they appeared they fade away. Though I check, no one else looks stunned. Perhaps it really was all in my head. Regardless of what it was, I doubt I could forget it if I tried. Maybe I’m fated to make a famous painting? Oh wouldn’t that be a story.

Well, midnight has come and the teachers send us on our way. I’m already cutting into my sleep, so all I really hope for now is that my dreams come quickly.