Free Rebel Song by Amanda J. Clay

words caught in her throat when she spotted Rogan in the doorway. For a few seconds, or maybe years, they stood locked in a private gaze. She then realized herself and pulled her attention back to the class.
    “Pardon the intrusion, Your Highness,” Mistress Pryor began. She was a younger woman of perhaps twenty-five with a soft kind face and muted brown hair twisted into a knot. Her floor-length skirt embroidered with delicate flowers and a long sleeve shirt buttoned up to her neck did everything it could to hide any possible femininity. “We have someone who would like to know more about the program we offer.”
    Elyra stood straight and Rogan noted the way the right side of her mouth turned up in a subtle grin.
    “Of course. Jonah, can you excuse me for just one moment, darling?” She said to the shaggy-haired boy. The boy nodded and she affectionately tousled his hair. Elyra glided toward him as gracefully as if she were floating, one slender leg in front of the other. He could see the fire in her eyes as she sauntered up to him, offering him a courteous bow, a gesture reserved for those you regard as important and owed respect.
    “May I present her Royal Highness, Princess Elyra Ballantyne,” Mrs. Pryor said to Rogan with glee in her voice, obviously proud to have the princess in her presence.
    “Your Highness honors me,” Rogan said with well-practiced courtesy and a deep bow. He noted Elyra’s smirk and did his best not to laugh.
    “I am pleased to meet you Mr.…” she trailed off.
    “Rogan Elwood, Miss.”
    “Pleased to acquaint you Mr. Elwood. You are here to be tutored then? You seem fairly learned, if you were to ask my humble opinion.”
    “Her Highness is so kind,” Mrs. Pryor interjected, still beaming.
    “I’m seeking someone who can help my little sister. She struggles with her letters. She might be dim-witted. Not sure.”
    “That is very sad,” Elyra made an artificial frown to mask a smirk. “We would be happy to have her. I happen to specialize in the dim-witted, apparently. Why don’t you have a seat and observe how we run our sessions?”
    Trying to ignore Mistress Pryor’s glare, Rogan took a seat in a red child-sized chair in the back of the room—feeling more than slightly ridiculous as his long legs protruded into the aisle. Elyra picked up her book and began her lessons again. After she had recited a few poems and reviewed the way to properly write cursive letters, she closed her book and smiled warmly.
    “Thank you, my darlings,” Elyra said to the rows of wide-eyed children. “Remember to practice writing your letters every day and read whatever you can. I will see all your lovely faces next week.” She offered them her warmest smile.
    “What do we say to Her Highness?” Mrs. Pryor asked the classroom.
    “Thank you!” They squealed.
    “And?”
    “Sants keep the King!” They all shouted. Mrs. Pryor nodded and excused the children.
    Elyra waited patiently at the front of the room with Mistress Pryor until the children had all scurried out eagerly, a few stopping to stare curiously at Rogan. One wide-eyed girl with curly blonde pig tails stopped in front of him.
    “She’s a real princess, you know. Just like a fairy tale,” the little girl said with a toothless grin.
    “That’s what I hear,” Rogan smirked as the girl scampered off.
    Elyra walked to where Rogan stood cross-armed at the back of the room.
    “Well done, Miss,” he said with a wry smile. She narrowed her eyes at him.
    “Mr. Elwood. I would love to know your thoughts on the session. Would you care to accompany me for a cup of tea in the back garden?”
    Rogan had to admit she was a devilishly convincing actress.
    “How nice of you to spare the time.”
    “I will see you next week, Mistress Pryor.” Elyra said as they left the room.
    The old city library boasted an elaborate back garden with sprawling exotic ivies and robust rose bushes. With two glasses of chilled black orange tea in hand,