Good sense came to Sunset, and she didn't chase me upstairs. I trotted slowly, trying to remember something, anything, about last week's classes. I failed. Too much had needed to happen as my plan to capture Running Mead came together. Again presentable, nopony noticed me in the equine river.
I noticed Moon Dancer. Her shortish reddish mane, loosely tied up with a purple scrunchie, was a hair fountain atop her head. She levitated two big open books before her face, warning everypony to scoot out of her path. Her black-rimmed glasses magnified dark-purple eyes that rapidly darted back and forth.
During our picnic breakfast, I'd gotten she was shy.
I said, just loud enough, "Nice tactic to keep everypony away."
Eyes glanced up. She gasped and coughed. The forest-green bronze enchantments text spun across the floor; I stopped it with a hoof. Her mouth made like a fish.
"Starlight's good enough."
"Hi," she said, barely testing the privilege I implied.
"Funny how you attend a school for half a year but don't notice somepony distinctive, until you've been introduced?"
I slipped her books into her black saddlebags, which matched her black and crimson cable-knit turtleneck, which went very well with her yellow fur. Nice ensemble, and I said so.
Given the excuse, she said, "Thank you."
"Could we have lunch together? Talk spell-embedding. I had fun. Please?" I asked the clearly uncomfortable filly, who nodded subtly. As I walked by, I added, "Prince Blueblood proved surprising. Surprisingly fun."
Her shocked gaze followed my rump. Wonder what she knows that I don't…
My homeroom was my history class, and as I entered I remembered I had an essay due today. Though history wasn't a good subject, I hated appearing a bad student to a teacher. Teachers, after Librarians, were the best ponies. Coaches ranked third. You never knew when you might need to learn something you didn't know you needed, and I wasn't coy about bringing apples, doing favors, or taking a pony to dinner to obtain what I needed. Business ponies called it networking.
Excuses made a student unworthy of extra help. A disappointed expression on my face, head held low, I walked in. I thought, That whole coronation thing ain't a bad excuse, though.
The pre-class chatter ceased. In a wave. A wave spreading out toward the back of the classroom. Until it splashed against the supply cabinet and bookshelves at the opposite end, and an oblivious still talking somepony cried, "Ouch!" when his friend smacked his rump. He half-bucked causing a stack of papers to slide over. Sheets floated, see-sawing to the the floor.
I sighed.
I passed behind the lectern, across the front of the class, then took the aisle against the windows to my desk. A week ago, after having been a blank flank that had worn no clothing to class, ever, I'd shown up in a couture yellow outfit I'd tailored as camouflage to meet with Detective Fellows, then used it to sneak into the Star Swirl the Bearded Time Wing, and to chase down Prince Blueblood. The aristo-fashion had cued my classmates that there might be something unconventional about the magic egghead who sat quietly in class, except when she had the right answer for the teacher.
Besides everything else, the former blank flank now had a stars-and-auroras cutie mark on her naked hindquarters. I twisted my hip so I sat on my right flank to hide the abomination, setting my notebook and quill on the desk with too loud a thump and click, not looking up.
The sharing of gossip and weekend events didn't resume. Of course not. One pony coughed.
I sighed, again.
I wasn't a force of nature like Sunset Shimmer. She'd learned to boss ponies around before she'd learned to speak. Impressive, considering she'd gone without words until seven.
I could fight or browbeat one pony into submission. Crowds or audiences... that was different. The one exception I could remember was in Hooflyn.
About a hundred mobsters and gang members, including borough lieutenants, had regrouped blocks from the Old Equestrian Post Office that had minutes ago exploded. Spectacularly. Sending a noxious red mushroom cloud into the sky. Bringing an end to the gang war. I'd come to tell them Doña Asada had died. I didn't tell them that I'd let her die in the explosion she'd set. Carne Asada had always introduced me as her daughter, probably to give me extra leverage running messages for her.
They decided I was the new Doña.
I was covered in blood—I'd saved 271 ponies after a building exploded, remember? That didn't dissuade them. Neither did my crying, "No!"
Repeatedly.
Okay, maybe I didn't have an exception to handling a recalcitrant audience!
What could I say to my classmates that wouldn't be construed as a royal command? I hated this.
I hated this.
I hated Celestia and her stupid choices a thousand years ago for dealing with her sister that ended with me sitting in this class! My eyes burned. I sniffed, feeling badly used and resenting it, Celestia, and everypony to all giddy-out. I wanted to cry.
I blinked away a tear.
How many times had I insisted that the last time I had cried was the day Sunburst left me, having gotten his cutie mark? I was a liar. To myself, foremost.
Friendship and cutie marks changed a pony. Apparently.
I laid my head on the desk, let go of my pride, and let the dam break. Tears ran down, wetting the cover of my daisy notebook. Sobs echoed in the silence, and even hearing those infantile sounds didn't stop my meltdown. Nor did the sound of me sniffing the snot back up my nose, before that completely ruined what little reputation as a tough I had left.
Horseshoes clopped slowly up the aisle to my right, then stopped. I heard the fizzle and pop of magic.
I swallowed, catching my breath. I swallowed and sniffed, and wiped my nose on my fetlock because dripping mucus was too far even for me. I looked up.
Mrs. Lookback, my history teacher, stood offering tissues from her golden magic. The amber-eyed palomino knew better than to say anything after I gave her the saddest red-rimmed look I could give her. It said, I really really REALLY want to be left alone right now!
Teacher-sense kicked in and she walked away. I wiped my nose and eyes and laid my head down, looking out the window at the waving willow trees that couldn't hide the castle bailey wall behind, blinking away the salty tears as they waned. Mrs. Lookback took roll call, skipping my name, probably because Ms. Glimmer sounded awkward.
During her lesson about the end of the Resignation Interregnum, she promised us a spell to show a cutie mark through clothing that Worry Wort, a baron in the peerage, had invented, even as ponies stopped wearing clothing again. History at Celestia's school centered around spells and magical developments because, well, magic school.
Nopony watched me. I saw a colt exchange a note with a filly. Another pair shared a textbook and whispered. I merited a glance, nothing more than what would happen looking around, feeling bored, or stretching.
I took that as a win.
Then, a minty green middle-aged mare stuck her head into the classroom—the vice-headmare, Ms. Maple. Her blue eyes found me; she gestured me outside...
I said, "Yes?" to mitigate the awkwardness of the rule that common ponies couldn't initiate with a royal. She had a white-streaked pale green mane and tail. I had no clue why she had a maple leaf cutie mark, sported a purplish-red color that clashed with her fur.
"Are you okay, Ms. Glimmer?" Not Starlight. Not informal.
Dried snot matted my right fetlock, making it crispy. My eyes were likely still red. "Doesn't every yearling my age have her emotions out of whack?"
"I don't know how to answer that. You fit no stereotype."
Looking down the hall behind her, I saw another student, colored like a roaring fire. The golden unicorn had a blazing red horn, mane, and tail. She had magenta eyes and was old enough to be growing into her hooves, but was clearly a foal not a filly. She spoke with a mare in an olive green uniform jacket with a white belt and matching messenger bag who wore a red beret. I didn't recognize the red-slashed black insignia or the RMC in it, or the white pips, but having been in the mob, I recognized a copper. No copper badge, though, only a name bar that read, Hue and Cry.
Did parents really name their foals such things? Well, I knew for a fact Blueblood had been named Blue-eyed Brawler, but then again, come on! If I ever foal, I'm going to find a random name in the town directory!
I said, "Celestia dumped too much responsibility on my head, and it got to me."
She blew air through her lips. "Don't I know how that feels! She's never here— Never mind. My door's always open, you know that?"
I nodded and smiled. She had truly cared for her new student that day nopony-me had shown up in Canterlot, at school, trying to enroll. I'd shown visible bruises under a poor quality linen dress I'd worn to disguise the fact, looking as if I'd been abused. I mean, who would imagine a teenager would be working with the EBI saving Canterlot from a dragon invasion, right? She made sure I was safe, and followed up with the EBI. She'd consoled and counseled me repeatedly about my PTSD from Hooflyn and the gang war. "I do. Thank you."
Her magic reached into her purse. She held a cloth near my cheek. "May I?"
I didn't wear makeup—or mascara like Celestia did—that could have gotten messed up. That didn't hide my most recent set of bruises. Which had likely added to my weird classroom cachét. I recalled Proper Step wiping smudges of mud or fireplace ash from my face this way before I'd run away. "What?"
She dabbed, then scrubbed to below my right ear. The torn ear. It had become unglued and partly flopped back. "Did you lay down on your quill? That's ink."
"Shoot!" I'd had lain my head on it while crying. I'd taken smeared mascara to the next level. Good reasons not to cry! "Shoot." I snorted at the ludicrousness of it, then laughed.
Ms. Maple grinned. "Your emotions are definitely out of whack. Seriously, Starlight—"
Starlight, as if I were nopony. I nearly hugged her. I took a deep breath and asked, "What's up?"
She pointed at Hue and Cry.
"Who's the foal?"
"Firefall Blaze's daughter Cinder, a second year."
"My Firefall?" Who'd said she had a daughter? A seven-year-old. Who'd possibly married, or at least ridden, a unicorn?
The constable switched places with the headmare, who led the foal down the hall. The mare saluted. She had piercing caramel-brown eyes.
I nodded.
"Ms. Glimmer, I'm Sergeant Major Hue and Cry of the Royal Military Constabulary, Investigations Unit. May I ask you some questions about Corporal Firefall Blaze?"
My body went cold. "Is she missing?"
"AWOL. She's got Celestia-1 security clearance and is assigned to the palace, so this is worrisome." Meaning she knew the 603 Day secret and this flathoof probably didn't know that. "When did you last see her?"
Did the coppers suspect the pardoned mobster? "Last night, before midnight?"
"Can you be more precise?"
"Ten to? I heard the castle clock strike midnight after I entered through the portcullis."
"Close enough. Where?"
I gave an intersection."
"Anything strange?"
"Actually, yes. At first I thought she wasn't on duty, then she flew down after I'd trotted from the house. She seemed surprised I hadn't stayed over. I ordered her to go home since I can take care of myself." I wriggled my torn ear catching the copper's eye, which didn't exactly prove my point.
"She followed your order?" Her eyebrow went up.
"Yeah. Her deportment the entire evening had led me to believe she'd disobey that order."
"As she should have. May I ask which house?"
Thinking of the prince's thing for secrecy, and that he might be keeping a residence from Celestia, I answered, "No."
"You may need to answer that later, Ms. Glimmer. May I ask what you were doing directly before you last saw the corporal?"
"I was riding somepony. No, it wasn't her."
The sergeant looked from my head to my tail, noting every bruise and the torn ear. Her expression remained neutral. I wouldn't want to play Heart and Horseshoe cards with her. "You decline to say with whom?"
"Yes, until Celestia says otherwise."
"I see. You know that Cinder is very worried about her mother?"
"As I am. I'd begun to think Firefall was the most professional of the palace guards."
"How so...?"
She questioned me for minutes after that, until Ms. Maple came up the hallway behind us with Twilight Sparkle in tow.
The runty purple unicorn looked displeased. She levitated a book, a scroll, and a quill with which she scritch-scritch-scratched loudly on the scroll while walking. She saw me, frowned at the sergeant, then, into the new quiet, said, "Um—" She clearly wanted to say Princess, but emotions of awe, fear, respect, and curiosity flickered through her face. Probably thought about dealing familiarly with a princess named Celestia, of me having beat-up her brother, recollecting Celestia nearly killed her that day, and Celestia's later declaration that I could kick anypony who didn't address me properly. Twilight got it right when she continued, "Ms. Glimmer." Her eyes sent daggers at the vice-headmare. "Hard to not fail a test that you know the Princess is going to give you, on a lecture—when they pull you from the class giving said lecture!" She sidled up to me, still glaring at Ms. Maple, clearly of the opinion that I had the power to fix things and understood her outrage.
I did. And. I did.
This was the pony Celestia was inventing friendship magic for? I nearly scoffed out loud.
The constable closed her notebook with a snap that made me look. "I should be going."
"Please find her."
"I'll do my best."
To Ms. Maple, I said, "Speaking of lectures, Mrs. Lookback was going to share a spell that I'm sure's going to be on my test, and I'm going to miss it. I like spells."
"Me, too!" said Twilight, nodding vigorously.
"You won't be disappointed with the interruption," the vice-headmare stated. She opened the door, told the mare I had been reassigned, and levitated out my messenger bag with the notebook and quill from my desk diving inside as it flew.
Annoyed that my classmates would likely take being reassigned as some sort of royal prerogative, but not sufficiently annoyed to protest leaving history class, I grabbed the book, scroll, and quill still floating in Twilight's magic and stuffed them into her overfilled saddlebags. The little mare essentially did weight training trotting with that oversized load. When she pouted, I decided to think of her again as a filly and not a mare nearly my age.