‘That’s what everyone says,’ said Chergoa.
Emiliana stiffened her brow. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘Something convincing. The Rainlords and Sandlords of Sair are the oldest living bloodlines on Eloa. Your father is granted a seat on the Council of Lords in addition to being a Captain of the Vanguard. If that doesn’t mean much to you, then I would wager that you do not, in fact, understand how privileged you are.’
Emiliana rolled her eyes and returned to observing the teacher’s presentation. The man was busy talking about the Gulf of Emerson, theorized to be the result of a megathrust earthquake that cut through the continent some ten thousand years ago.
It was one of the rare moments in this class that wasn’t just about memorizing the names of cities and countries. She didn’t see much point in a geography course when she could look places up on her phone whenever she wanted--or even pull up a map of the entire planet in a matter of seconds. Maybe that was just the “annoying teenager” part of her brain, but this class really did seem like something that only an old person would consider important.
Probably not a thought she should share with Chergoa, she figured.
Finally, her last class let out, and she grabbed her lemon umbrella and made her way around to the far end of the gym. She walked fast. Cisco was supposed to drive her home, so if this took too long, he would start wondering where she was.
She spotted Alex waiting for her beneath an overhang. With a knot in her chest, she approached him.
He smiled at her. “Hi.”
She returned one of her own. “Hi.”
“Thank you for coming.”
At the sudden awkward silence, she couldn’t help growing a bit impatient. “Is everything alright?” she asked.
“Sorry,” he said, “I’m waiting for one more person.”
Her smile waned. She was about to ask who he meant when someone rounded the corner and she saw that it was Cisco.