Imagine somehow making it to heaven. You wander down streets of gold, awestruck, when suddenly a sweet, irresistible smell reaches your nose. Pie. You follow it, drawn to a kitchen where a saint is baking. “Just wait,” he says. “They’ll be ready soon.” So you sit, and wait, and wait. The hunger gnaws at you. It is PAINFUL.

  Ashey burst awake, gasping, clutching her empty stomach. She shouldn’t have walked out on dinner last night. What the hell was she thinking? Her nose twitched, sniffing the air. Her mouth watered, fangs bared. Someone was baking pie in this house.

  She dropped to all fours and charged into the kitchen.

  The tray sat on the counter. She grabbed the first pie and devoured it, ripping open the refrigerator to gulp down orange juice. Bliss. No time to think—just eat.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ashey.”

  Startled, she looked up. A girl stood there, foreign in appearance—brown skin, a massive lock of hair draped over one shoulder, barefoot and slender.

  “Hi,” Ashey managed, mouth still full.

  “I was going to serve that for breakfast, but you found them early,” the girl said, her voice sing-song, familiar yet foreign. “My name is Verimae.”

  “You’re very pretty,” Ashey said, crumbs still clinging to her lips.

  “Thank you, Ashey.” Verimae moved to the counter, tidying up the mess. “I’m a friend of Mariel’s. She asked me to help around the house while she’s away.”

  “So… you’re the new dossi. The others work for pay now.”

  “Dossi?” The girl repeated the word as if tasting it for the first time. “What does that mean?”

  “You know… dossi. You’re the new servant.”

  “I suppose,” she said thoughtfully. “But I’m not just the house dossi. I’m also yours, Ashey. Mariel asked me to help you get ready for school. I hear it’s reopening soon.”

  Orange juice sprayed from Ashey’s nostrils. She scoffed, gulping down the rest, then bounded back to her bedroom. Her fingers danced over her phone, checking for any missed notifications.

  One unanswered call from Don Roy blinked on the screen. She tapped it and waited.

  “What the hell, Ashey! Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was frantic, with splashing water in the background.

  “Are you running back home?” giggled Ashey.

  “Better believe it!” Don Roy was breathless. “I’d rather cross this sea on foot than have my mom come pick me up. You should’ve told me!”

  “I didn’t know! I still don’t know,” she said, shrugging.

  “It’s true,” he said. “My mom’s friends with our principal. The geezer snitched on me to her. He told her I’m repeating the year—and here I am, running home.”

  “You’re repeating the year?”

  “I’m repeating the year.”

  “School can’t be back yet,” said Ashey, disbelief tinged with panic.

  “Life is going against us,” sighed Don Roy.

  “It’s not fair,” sobbed Ashey.

  “I can’t believe they’d do this to us,” echoed Don Roy.

  They mourned each other’s imaginary funeral until midday. Accepting her fate, Ashey approached her calendar and drew a long, bleak line across it. She thumped her head on the wall—once, twice, thrice—then stopped. It wasn’t the end of the world. Plans could shift. Everything would work out, maybe even better than before.

  “Congratulations on reaching your final year.”

  Verimae appeared from thin air. Ashey wasn’t the most attentive person, but no one had ever sprung up on her like that.

  “I heard your current school doesn’t have a high school. Do you have any schools in mind for secondary education?”

  “Who cares about that stuff?” Ashey flopped onto her bed. “My entire family will be together for the first time in a million years, and that’s all I care about. I’m not going to make myself sad on purpose.”

  “That sounds wonderful, Ashey. But is it really your entire family?”

  “My mom won’t be there, everyone knows—”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Not your mom. I’m aware of Schemel’s situation. I meant your grandfather.”

  “Huh? I don’t have a grandfather.”

  “You do,” said Verimae. “Ashel Sorel is still alive, and he lives in Arden. Wouldn’t you like to meet him too?”

  Ashey flopped face-first onto her mattress. “Can you leave me alone for just a second?”

  “I made a list of all the items you’ll need before reopening day. Can we go through it together?”

  “Leave it on my desk. I’ll take a look later.”

  “Alright,” the girl said. “Later, then.”

  Ashey glanced at the list: school uniform, school bag, books and pens, water bottle. She choked on it. First things first—she had to find her uniform. She grabbed her phone and called Mariel.

  “Auntie, where’s my uniform? I can’t find it.”

  “Talk to Verimae,” Mariel said, and hung up. The nerve.

  Next, she tried Helen, but a secretary picked up. This time, Ashey hung up in frustration. She stormed toward the House of Coin, heading straight for her grandmother’s office.

  The place was chaos. Secretaries darted around, carrying stacks of files up and down the stairs and into waiting cars outside. A clerk not paying attention bumped into Ashey, sending her files tumbling to the floor. In a frantic scramble, both of them knelt, gathering papers while the clerk muttered anxiously, berating herself for the timing.

  “What’s happening today?” Ashey asked, more out of curiosity than concern. “Where’s my grandma?”

  “We have a court case today,” the clerk said, hopping to her feet. “You’ll see Lady Sorel in a bit.”

  Sometimes, Ashey wished she understood what everyone was about. People seemed to talk right over her, assuming she couldn’t follow along. She thought back to her mom, who had spent so much time talking with Jenne and Hamis.

  “Auntie, are you at the court, too?” Ashey asked. “I really need to get a new school uniform.”

  “I can’t hear you, love. There’s too much noise from the machinery,” Mariel replied. She was at the western docks. Ashey would join her tomorrow for the welcome party celebrating the arrival of Valentina, the mother ship from Yuna. Tourists, royalty, traders—and most importantly—family.

  She should’ve been at the docks by now, trying to catch a glimpse of Valentina before the ship arrived. Instead, she was scorched, parched, and very annoyed with Glen Jacobs School, trudging under the baking sun.

  Ashey collapsed under the public fountain in Little Soden to cool off. She sipped ice-cold juice, letting it sizzle on her reddening brow. The last time she’d been here, she’d jumped into the fountain’s waters. Not her brightest moment.

  The security at the gates were far too lazy to bother with her. She slipped through without showing an ID. The campus was deserted, though, and it took a few aimless turns around the administrative block before she stumbled into the procurement office.

  Two ladies were busy packing uniforms into boxes and didn’t even glance at her. Ashey awkwardly lingered for a minute and a half before the woman in glasses finally asked what she wanted.

  “I was wondering if I could get a new school uniform,” Ashey said. “My last one… kind of got buried under rubble.”

  “Give me your order and I’ll hand it over,” the woman replied.

  Verimae hadn’t mentioned anything about an order. “I don’t have one,” Ashey said.

  “We can’t give you any unless you place an order.”

  “Then, I’d like to order—”

  “Do that at reception. We don’t take orders here.”

  “Can’t you just give me one? I’m right here! I need a uniform. I don’t want to place a stupid order before I get one.”

  They ignored her.

  “You guys are so dead when my mom finds out…” The words dribbled out, shame quickly replacing fury. She hadn’t meant to say it.

  The woman in glasses dropped the uniforms and placed her hands on her hips, scrutinising Ashey. “We place orders so you don’t get stuck with a uniform twice your size. The new years are coming in, and we don’t want another shortage. If you needed a uniform this badly, why wait this long?”

  “I was busy, okay?” Ashey stammered.

  The woman tipped her chin at her assistant. They folded up a set in a bag and handed it to Ashey. “Leave, and stop bothering us.”

  Later, standing in front of her mirror, Ashey surveyed the ugliest uniform she’d ever seen. The skirt grazed her shins, with so much space at the waist she could fit both arms at her sides. The shirt wasn’t much better. This was the best she could do alone—and she’d had to leverage her mom’s reputation to get it.

  Disgusted, she muttered, “It won’t happen again.”

  Ashey shook out the shirt and skirt. She’d have to stitch it up to size. Crossing the hall, she spotted Verimae sitting on a couch, reading.

  Grabbing a pair of scissors, Ashey held up the skirt.

  “Why don’t you let me try?” Verimae said, slightly out of breath.

  “How do you get here so quickly?”

  “I have a superpower,” Verimae said. “My fashion sense tingles whenever something atrocious is about to happen to clothing.”

  Ashey couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t want to be friends with this girl—not yet—but it felt unfair not to give Verimae a chance.

  They ended up in Verimae’s room on the lower floor of the house. It wasn’t large, but it was tidy, with a sweet, flowery smell. A small bed sat against one wall, alongside a mat stacked neatly with bundles of cloth and yarn. A pole held hangers with dresses of every colour, swaying lightly as though breathing.

  Verimae had a workbench with needles of all sizes pierced into a slab of wax. Next to it was a sewing machine, which she sat behind, carefully feeding Ashey’s uniform through its mechanisms.

  “Are all these yours?” Ashey asked.

  “I borrowed them from Mariel,” Verimae said. “One of the reasons I came here—living alone was quite boring. Now I can spend my time doing what I love most: placing threads where I want them, stitching lovely patterns.”

  Ashey ran her fingers along one dress. The fabric was unlike anything she’d felt—soft enough to melt. “They’re… pretty,” she said. “You’re really talented.”

  “I’m yet to do my best work,” Verimae replied. The sewing machine rattled, hammering threads into the sky-blue fabric beneath. “Every artist needs the right tools to succeed. Mine has been missing for a while.”

  “A sewing machine?”

  “You could say that,” Verimae said. “Without it, I’m only half the person I ought to be.”

  Ashey stood before the mirror, rendered speechless. The uniform now fit perfectly, tailored to her form, and she looked—proper, poised, like someone who belonged in any room. No one at school would look this good in a uniform.

  “Whatever you’re missing, I hope you get it back soon,” Ashey said. “You’re amazing.”

  “Thank you, Ashey.”

  Ashey spun around. “Um, Verimae… why are you being so nice to me?”

  Verimae’s touch came unexpectedly. Soft, warm, almost like the fabric she worked with. Her palm brushed Ashey’s cheek, sliding down to lift her chin.

  For the first time, Ashey understood love. Not the kind spoken of in stories—but the quiet kind, when someone looks at you and smiles simply because you exist. The kind she had always craved from her mom.

  “Ashamel,” Verimae whispered, “but what are sisters for?”