Falling Autumn

Chapter 1: First Bell*

__

The air in West Ridge High smelled like wet pavement and burnt coffee.

Sabrina Walter stood by the double doors, clutching a notebook so hard her knuckles went white. It was cheap—lined, spiral-bound, $2.99 from Target. Not leather-bound, gold-embossed, hand-delivered by the royal librarian like her notebooks back home. The kind of notebook where if you dropped it, no one would panic and check it for classified information.

“Deep breaths, Miss Walter,” Mr. Alistair murmured from two steps behind her. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Officially, he was “Mr. Davis, the groundskeeper.” Unofficially, he’d been her sword instructor since she was ten, and the only adult who’d ever let her lose on purpose.

“I’m not nervous,” she whispered back in perfect, accentless English. The accent was new. Three months of voice coaches in the safehouse in Vermont, drilling her until she said ‘water’ without the soft ‘r’ that gave her away. “I’m 17. This is normal.”

Nothing about this was normal.

Two weeks ago she’d been in the east tower of Camelot, watching smoke rise from the northern villages through a telescope her grandfather gave her. The rival kingdom of Valerion had crossed the border at dawn. By noon, her parents had made the call: Sabrina goes to America. Now.

Yesterday she’d been picking out hoodies at a mall, trying to look like every other American teenager. Her guard, Lena, had kept suggesting “something more practical for running.” Sabrina had picked the soft gray one anyway.

Today, she was Sabrina Walter from Columbus, Ohio. No title. No guards in sight. Just a fake address, a fake past, and a real chance to not be alone.

The bell rang.

A flood of students poured past her, laughing, shoving, scrolling phones, yelling about a quiz they hadn’t studied for. A girl with pink hair slammed into her shoulder. “Sorry!” she called without looking back, already absorbed back into her group.

No one bowed. No one dropped into a curtsy. No one whispered _“The Princess is here”_ and fell silent.

No one cared who her father was.

Sabrina felt something crack open in her chest. It was terrifying. It was free.

“Locker 214,” Mr. Davis said quietly, nodding toward the hall. His eyes were scanning everything—exits, faces, the janitor mopping too slowly near the stairwell. Old habits. “Remember: if anyone asks too many questions, you’re from Columbus. Your parents work in tech. You moved here for a fresh start. No mention of siblings, no mention of Europe, and for God’s sake, don’t mention fencing.”

Right. Columbus. Tech. Fresh start. No fencing.

She’d spent 17 years being taught to fence, to ride, to speak three languages, to smile at foreign ambassadors without showing her teeth. And now the most dangerous thing she could do was mention it.

She took one step forward, and the hallway swallowed her whole.

---

The lockers were louder than she expected. Metal on metal, slamming, echoing off tile. The smell of body spray and old textbooks made her eyes water.

She found 214 on the second try. The combination didn’t work. Of course it didn’t.

“Left 14, right 32, left 7,” a voice said behind her.

Sabrina spun, immediately scanning for a threat, before she caught herself.

It was a boy. Maybe 17, maybe 18. Dark hair falling into his eyes, a chipped black nail polish on his thumb, a hoodie that said _“I’d rather be editing”_ in faded white letters. He had earbuds around his neck and the kind of tired expression that said he’d been up until 3am working on something he cared about.

“You’re new,” he said. Not a question. “And you’re terrible at hiding that you don’t know where the bathroom is.”

Sabrina blinked. “I—what?”

“You’ve been staring at the hallway map for five minutes.” He nodded at the paper above her locker. “First day? I can show you after class. Unless you’re secretly a spy.”

Her heart stopped. For half a second, the hallway went quiet. The lockers stopped slamming.

“Why would you say that?” she said, trying for casual and landing on strangled.

Ethan shrugged, leaning against the locker next to hers like he owned the place. “Because you look like you’re waiting for someone to call you ‘Your Highness.’”

Sabrina’s blood ran cold.

He couldn’t know. No one could know. The plan was airtight. The safehouse, the fake records, the weeks of practice. If he knew, it meant Valerion knew. It meant they’d failed already.

But his eyes weren’t calculating. They weren’t dangerous. They were amused. Like he was joking. Testing.

“Nice try,” she said, forcing a laugh that sounded fake even to her. “But I’m just bad at directions.”

Ethan studied her for a second too long, like he was storing her reaction away for later. Then he nodded. “Alright, Columbus girl. Bathroom’s third door on the left. Don’t get lost again.”

As he turned back to his notes, Sabrina gripped her pen until the plastic creaked.

Autumn had just started. And already, things were falling apart.

---

First period was Algebra.

She sat in the back corner, where Mr. Davis had told her to sit. “Back to the wall. Exits in sight. Don’t volunteer for anything.”

So she didn’t. She answered when called on, got the equation right, and spent the rest of the period watching the door.

Every time someone walked in late, her pulse spiked.

Every time the PA crackled, she flinched.

Every time someone said her name, she waited for it to be followed by _“please come with me.”_

It didn’t happen.

The bell rang. Students surged out. Sabrina moved slower, letting the crowd thin before she stood.

Ethan was waiting by the door.

“You coming or what?” he said. “Bathroom tour, remember?”

“I don’t need a tour,” she said automatically.

“Sure you don’t.” He grinned. “But you do need to know where the emergency exits are. Trust me.”

She almost said no. It was safer. Less attention. Less risk.

But the idea of spending the next 8 hours alone, pretending she knew what she was doing, made her stomach twist.

“Fine,” she said. “But if this is a prank—”

“It’s not a prank,” Ethan said. “It’s a public service. Someone has to help the lost princess.”

There it was again. That word.

Sabrina’s steps faltered.

Ethan noticed. He stopped, turned, and his grin faded a little. “Hey. I’m kidding, okay? You just have… I don’t know. The posture. Like you’ve been told to stand up straight your whole life.”

Sabrina said nothing.

He sighed. “Look, I don’t care who you are. Or who you were. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t have a panic attack in the hallway. Deal?”

Deal.

The word felt dangerous.

But she nodded.

As they walked, she noticed the way people moved around them. Not because of her. Because of him. Ethan had that quiet gravity—people noticed him, but didn’t crowd him.

“Are you popular?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Ethan laughed. “God no. I’m the weird film kid. I run the AV club and make short films no one watches. Popular kids think I’m depressing.”

Sabrina almost smiled. “What’s depressing about film?”

“Everything,” he said. “Especially when you try to make something real in a place like this.”

She understood that. More than she wanted to.

They reached the bathroom. It was empty.

“Third door on the left,” Ethan said, pointing. “And the exit’s down that hall, past the gym. If you ever need to disappear for five minutes, that’s how.”

Sabrina frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

Ethan shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Because you look like you might need it.”

Before she could answer, the hallway intercom crackled to life.

“Attention students, please report to the auditorium for an emergency assembly. I repeat, emergency assembly.”

Ethan’s face changed.

Sabrina’s did too.

Because in Camelot, emergency assemblies only happened when someone was dead. Or missing.

And somewhere, across the ocean, her parents were still fighting a war she couldn’t see.

Autumn was falling.

And she had a feeling it was going to take her with it.

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