“Do you see this?” Hyacinth pointed to one corner of her lip. “It moves up here, and the same goes for the other side.” She let both corners turn up. “And that, my dear Mrs. B., is how smiles are born.”

Unfortunately, it had absolutely no effect on her humor-resistant homeroom teacher.

“Oh, come on. It’s funny, admit it.”

“Are you done, Ms. Kahveci?”

She made a face, wondering how someone so exceptionally good at the art of homemaking could have ridiculously poor people skills. Who exactly did this woman practice her homemaking skills for anyway – orcs?

“Because if you are, then may we please start talking about the reason you’re here, which is---”

“To save you from getting publicly crucified in next week’s PTA?”

“To discuss what you’ve written on your career counseling form,” Mrs. B. said in a steely voice.

Shit.

So that’s what this was about.

“What’s this about you wanting to be an accountant?”

“I’m exceptionally good with numbers,” Hyacinth defended.

“I’m good at making people cry, too,” Mrs. B retorted coolly, “but you don’t see me working for Revenue Collections, do you?”

The words had her choking, but the mask of cold refinedness on the older woman’s flawlessly beautiful face didn’t even crack the slightest bit.

“It’s about doing what you love---”

“So you’re saying teaching is the job you love?”

“It is,” Mrs. B. answered without hesitation.

“Then how about playing nice with the other teachers just once, to keep this job you say you love?” Hyacinth leaned forward, intent on getting her point across. “Because I know what I heard, Mrs. B. Those women are out for your blood, and they’re planning to make a move during the PTA---”

The teacher’s upper lip curled. “Let them do their worst---”

Hyacinth threw her hands up in despair. “Oh my God, Mrs. B! Will it kill you to pretend just this once that you care about what others say?” She pointed accusingly to the woman’s porcelain-perfect face, saying warningly, “If you don’t make an effort to get along, those jealous bitches---”

“Language,” Mrs. Bauer censured.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. They’re witches. Can I call them that instead?” She didn’t bother waiting for an answer, knowing that her homeroom teacher was certain to insist on something more formal (and a lot less fun). “Those jealous witches are desperate to bring you down!”

“And you think I should be worried about them?” the older woman questioned with a sniff.

“Umm. Yeah?” She could only shake her head at the question, wondering why her homeroom teacher seemed hell bent on making enemies when there was no need to.

Mrs. B suddenly let out a sigh, and the way the sound made her teacher sound passably human had Hyacinth’s gaze narrowing.

“Do not get me wrong,” the older woman said gruffly. “I truly appreciate your concern.” And it did seem like it, with the teacher’s preternaturally exquisite features softening ever so slightly. “But---”

I knew it. Hyacinth grimaced. “Of course there had to be a but.”

“I would rather you worry more about your own situation.”

She leaned back against her seat, caught by surprise. “But I don’t have any problem---”

“And that,” Mrs. Bauer pointed out, “is exactly what the problem is.”

“Um. Okay. But---” Hyacinth slowly shook her head, saying honestly, “I still don’t get it.”

“You have been my student for almost four years now. I’ve seen you grown up with my own eyes, and I’ve had more than ample time to observe how you conduct yourself in class, with your peers---”

“Are you saying you’re my stalker?” she quipped.

But as always, Mrs. Bauer’s face refused to yield even the smallest of smiles. “You’re the ideal student. Friendly without being precocious, smart without being nerdy, kind without being a pushover, confident without being conceited---”

“Can we get to the ‘but’ part now?” she interrupted. “Because there’s another one, isn’t it?”

“But I’m convinced you’re faking everything---”

Hyacinth jerked in her seat.

“It’s not normal to smile as much as you do.” Seeing her student’s lips – in the act of stretching into another fake smile – compress in a tight line instead, Mrs. Bauer paused, knowing she had to choose her next words with more care. “I don’t think even God is that happy all the time, Hyacinth.”

The silence in her office persisted, but it was just as the older woman expected. The girl never did like risking saying anything when she was feeling too much.

“I worry about you, too, you know.”

“Because I smile too much.”

The girl seemed to have recovered, and the smile was back on Hyacinth’s lovely face. Tough girl, Mrs. Bauer thought, ugly smile. It was not an ideal combination.

“Is that what you’re saying, Mrs. B?” And before she could reply, her student went on, “Even with suicide rates on the rise – celebrities, teenagers, take your pick – everyone seems to be at risk, and yet you’re seriously telling me you’re worried that I’m smiling too much?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Bauer refused to rise to the bait. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“You’ve gotta be joking---”

“Look at me in the eye and tell me all your smiles are real.”

The girl’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“Because if they’re not, then your smiles are all to hide something---” A barely audible beeping cut her off, and the untimely interruption caused Mrs. Bauer to nearly forget herself, with a series of rude words brimming on her lips.

The alarm signaled the end of the session, and before she could say another word, her student had already scrambled to her feet and slung the straps of her bag over her shoulder. “Hold on, Ms. Kahveci,” Mrs. Bauer protested.

“Sorry, Mrs. B. I can’t stay another minute. My sister’s waiting---”

“Isn’t Anisah away for a two-day conference?”

But the girl didn’t seem to hear her, backing away as she did towards the door. “See you tomorrow.”

Mrs. Bauer watched her student rush out of her office and tried to take comfort from the fact that the session wasn’t a complete failure. Because Hyacinth wasn’t smiling when she left, she thought.

It was the smallest of changes, but it was at least a step towards the right direction.

Hyacinth was thirteen when she first found it: a journal of hand-sketched maps of the palace’s massive system of secret tunnels, stuck inside a hidden compartment under one of the desks at the royal library. She would never have found it if not for an earthquake drill that had sent her hiding under the desk, and while waiting for the second bell to ring, she had looked up, and there it was, waiting for her like a key to unlock the greatest secrets.

Since then, the palace’s hidden passageways had been her girl cave (literally) – a safe place to let off steam, which she certainly needed to do so now.

“Dammit, goddammit, dammit.”

I should never have lowered my guard with Mrs. B., Hyacinth thought mournfully.

But she had, and now she was paying the price.

So what’s the next step, H?

No doubt her homeroom teacher imagined her struggling with a deep, dark secret. But the truth was so much simpler – and worse.

I’m an evil, foul-mouthed, bad-tempered little bitch.

She had always been one for as long as she could remember, and she was half-convinced she had been born one. Everyone had always thought she was the nicer Kahveci sister, and all of them couldn’t be more wrong. Anisah might be frowning all the time, but at least her sister’s frowns were genuine while all of Hyacinth’s smiles weren’t real…just as Mrs. B. had suspected. Anisah might often speak harshly, but at least her words were always meant to help. Hyacinth, however…

Last Sunday, she and Anisah were doing groceries when the cashier had recognized them and started muttering under her breath about how lucky some people were, to live in the palace even without royal blood.

Anisah being Anisah had taken the high road by ignoring the woman’s bitter ranting, and Hyacinth, knowing what was expected of her, had done the same. But in her mind, she was like a feral, rabid dog begging to be let loose.

You old dumb hag, you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about!

Palace wards like us are held to the same standards as the royal family – but minus all the perks! We even get targeted for kidnapping threats, but unlike the royal family, we don’t have private security to keep our butts safe.

It may be state money that pays for our education, but we’re also expected to pull our weight at the palace – for free!

So next time you open your fucking mouth, you could at least damn well make sure you know what you’re talking about. And while you’re at it, here’s a goddamn toothbrush – you don’t seem to have ever used one since YOUR BREATH FUCKING STINKS!

Now that she thought about it, ‘harsh’ might not even be the right word to describe the nature of her thoughts. No, her thoughts were probably on another level. More likely, they were better described as…savage?

Hyacinth absently nodded to herself.

Yup.

Her thoughts were the very definition of savage.

And that’s the truth, nothing but the truth, so help me God, Hyacinth thought. I’m an evil, foul-mouthed, bad-tempered, savage little bitch.

She tried to imagine herself saying the words – and the shitstorm it would generate all the way to the royal palace.

Nope.

Not happening.

Ever.

Mrs. B, being the strict but well-meaning teacher that she was, would likely blame herself for a student’s character defect, especially if that same student was her so-called favorite. And then there was her overprotective sister, who was likely to go into hysterics, and of course the royal family would have to be involved, maybe even forced to issue a public apology on Hyacinth’s behalf.

And all that, she thought in frustration, was because she had smiled a little too much than what was necessary?

Hyacinth angrily kicked a loose stone out of her way. She didn’t care what people thought. #nofilter truth was overrated, and it only hurt more than it healed.

“Dammit, goddammit, dammit.”

She started pacing, her mind sifting through her bank of ready-made excuses in search for a perfectly plausible, fail-proof explanation she could feed to her homeroom teacher.

“I’m…”

A fake.

A goddamn fake.

And I’m unable to breathe---

Her hands flew to cover her mouth before the words could escape. She could never ever say such things, never –

Thump.

Hyacinth froze, her anxieties immediately disappearing as her mind instinctively went on survival mode.

Thump.

Her head snapped towards the sound, and her heart jumped in fright when she saw the tall, powerfully built man standing by the entryway. He was dressed entirely in black, a helmet and balaclava that hid all but his eyes, and a Kevlar vest strapped over his chest.

Oh…shit.