The Swan of Pomefiore

Black Feather

  Eleanor exhaled as she entered her room in Pomefiore, one of the only except for the Housewarden's room where only one bed resided. The Headmage had insisted on it and her Housewarden had agreed.

  However, now she'd have a new Housewarden, the previous one having nominated his vice for the position.

  The ceremony was in an hour but it wasn't necessary to attend but it was good manners.

  Quickly changing into her dorm uniform, Elanor brushed her indigo hair back, creating a half ponytail, then sat at her vanity, taking her time to perfect her makeup.

  Almost everyone she'd talked to last year (while politely brushing off more then one crush confession) had said she hardly needed makeup with how beautiful she was but it never hurt to look better, though she wasn't center stage this time so she didn't have to go all out.

  Pushing the gem stickers aside, Eleanor focused on pale pinks and soft lashes, finishing with a almost nude pink gloss.

  "Perfect," she said, capping the gloss and looking at the nearby clock. "Just enough time to get to the lounge to see the new Housewarden crowned."

  Her heels clicked as she headed down the hall, entering the lounge where most of Pomefiore was gathered, second years and third years as the first years hadn't been sorted yet. That ceremony was in two weeks.

  Taking up a space close to the Fairest Queen's replica throne, Eleanor looked around, trying to spot the new Housewarden. She'd never paid much attention to the former Housewarden or his Vice-Housewarden, so she wasn't entirely sure what the new Housewarden looked like, other then rumours she was hearing now that he rivalled the Fairest Queen. But that was a standard most of the male students in Pomefiore strove for so it was difficult to pin who the new Housewarden was.

  Then, without warning, a hand was touching her hair, lifting a lock and making her freeze.

  There was a soft chuckle and her hair was dropped. "Excuse moi, I was driven by the beautiful colour of your hair, forgetting all manners."

  French? Language of love and beauty? Eleanor turned, meeting vibrant and piercing green eyes. He wasn't familiar to her, though most of Pomefiore wasn't familiar.

  "I'd appreciate if you didn't do that again," Eleanor said, trying to calm her nerves. "My personal space is precious to me."

  "Ah! Of course, how rude of me," the stranger said, stepping and bowing low. "Rook Hunt, fair maiden."

  Eleanor, never one to forget her own manners, dipped into a curtsy. "Eleanor Schwan."

  Rook smiled. "You ballet?"

  She paused, rising. How did he know? "I dabble." Eleanor confessed.

  "You cross your legs in curtsying like a professional," Rook pointed out. "Perhaps more than dabble?"

  Eleanor shifted her weight, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I...I-"

  A soft chime rang through the lounge, signalling the start of the ceremony, to which Rook looked away from her. "Ah. I must excuse myself," he said, bowing in farewell. "He will be crowned soon."

  As the ceremony started, Eleanor made a mental note to pick up French as a side study. Something told her she'd need it to understand him. Or just to know when he was coming so she could void him.

  The former Housewarden removed the crown from his forehead, placing it on the bowed, blond head in front of him. "All hail Housewarden Vil."

  Eleanor bowed with everyone else, joined in the polite applause, but her eyes were caught on the new Housewarden, Vil. The rumours were true. He really did look like the Fairest Queen.