Chapter 23 — Standings

Elara felt beyond strung out after a full week of Mommy’s eerie silence—no retaliation, no sharp words, no suffocating oversight. If anything, the absence of it all was worse than any punishment she could’ve imagined. She was back to feeling like she did on day one at Littlewick Academy, tossing and turning through restless nights, her mind a tangled mess of dread and confusion. By morning, exhaustion clung to her, dragging her down as she stumbled through her routine. But this time, it wasn’t Mommy’s overbearing control keeping her on edge. It was the complete lack of it.

Since arriving at Littlewick, Elara hadn’t had a shred of privacy or autonomy. Not even something as basic as bathing herself was left to her discretion—Mommy had orchestrated every detail, from when she ate to how she dressed, down to the most intimate acts of care. Every moment had been dictated, her will bent under that iron grip. But now, with the threat of blackmail hanging over Mommy’s head, she’d pulled back so far it was almost frightening. It wasn’t just a step back; it felt like a total withdrawal, leaving Elara adrift in a void of uncertainty.

It almost seemed like Mommy had grown disinterested in her entirely, and somehow… that stung worse than the act of blackmailing her ever could. Where before Elara could count on Mommy’s presence—waking her up with a firm hand, checking her diaper after breakfast with that invasive smirk, changing her with care—now she had to seek her out herself. The overwhelming control that once defined every interaction felt muted, reduced to a bare minimum. Mommy went through the motions when absolutely necessary, but there was no passion in it, no intensity. She’d become a shadow of the caregiver she once was, doing just enough to maintain appearances. Elara found herself waiting longer and longer between diaper changes, sometimes even handling it herself in the dorm, fumbling with tapes and wipes while casting nervous glances at the door.

Not that Mommy seemed to care one way or another.

To Elara, it looked like Mommy had taken a backseat to her duties on purpose, content to relax and wait her out as if playing some long game of patience.

It was driving Elara absolutely insane. Each day without interference felt like a silent taunt, a reminder that she’d pushed too far—or maybe not far enough. Was this indifference the real punishment? Letting her flounder without guidance until she broke under the weight of freedom she didn’t know how to handle? Or was it just a precursor to something worse, a calm before an inevitable storm?

She sat on the edge of her crib in the dorm late one evening, legs swinging restlessly as Quinn fiddled with a textbook across from her. The crinkle of her unchanged diaper—going on hours now—was an irritant under her skirt, but seeking out Mommy for help felt like admitting defeat. The silence between them stretched thin before Elara finally muttered, “I can’t stand this anymore.”

Quinn glanced up, closing her book with a soft thud. “What? The waiting game?”

“Yeah.” Elara’s voice cracked slightly, frustration bleeding through. “She’s just… nothing now. Doesn’t check on me, doesn’t say anything unless I go to her first. I even changed myself twice this week, and she didn’t bat an eye when I told her. It’s like I don’t exist to her unless I force it.”

Quinn leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms with a frown. “Same here. Daddy’s barely around either. I thought they’d come at us hard after what we pulled, but this? It’s creepier than any yelling or magic crap they could throw at us.”

“I don’t get it,” Elara said, running a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands in agitation. “I thought having dirt on them would give us some power, some breathing room. But now I feel more trapped than ever. Like… like I need her to care enough to do something, even if it’s awful. This ignoring me shit is worse.”

“You miss it?” Quinn raised an eyebrow, tone cautious but curious. “The control?”

Elara’s face burned at the implication, but she couldn’t outright deny it. “Not miss it exactly,” she grumbled, looking away at the faded rug beneath their cribs. “It’s just… I knew where I stood before, y’know? Even if it sucked, there were rules, structure. Now I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it’s eating me alive not knowing when or how.”

Quinn nodded slowly, picking at a loose thread on her uniform sleeve. “They’re probably banking on that—waiting us out ‘til we crack and beg for attention, good or bad. Make us feel like we’re nothing without them hovering over us.”

“Well, it’s working,” Elara snapped under her breath, then sighed heavily, slumping forward with elbows on her knees. “I keep thinking maybe I should just confront her again—push harder, see if I can get a reaction. But what if that’s exactly what she wants? What if I’m playing right into whatever trap she’s set?”

“Dunno,” Quinn admitted, shrugging one shoulder as she met Elara’s gaze again. “But sitting here stewing ain’t helping either. Maybe we test the waters—just a little. Ask for something small next time we see ‘em, see how they react without tipping our whole hand.”

Elara chewed her lip, uncertainty gnawing at her alongside a desperate itch to do something to break this maddening stalemate. Every passing day of neglect felt like a slow unraveling of whatever fragile confidence she’d built since removing the runes. She hated how much space Mommy still occupied in her head—hated even more how much she craved some sign, any sign, that she hadn’t been discarded entirely. Whether it led to punishment or reconciliation, she wasn’t sure she cared anymore; she just needed this limbo to end before it drove her over the edge completely.

Elara flopped back in her crib, the crinkle of her diaper shifting under her as she let out a frustrated groan. “We’ve got to do something!”

“Like what?” Quinn asked, her voice tinged with the same exasperation as she sat cross-legged in her own crib across the dorm, slamming her textbook shut with a dull thud.

“I don’t know,” Elara grumbled, palming her eyes with both hands, pressing hard as if she could squeeze out a solution. “I just can’t keep going on like this. I know we said we’d get more dirt… but I feel like by ignoring us, they’ve almost taken away our power again.”

Quinn sighed heavily, nodding as she leaned back against the bars of her crib, her uniform skirt bunching up slightly. “I know what you mean.”

“Part of me just wants it to be over,” Elara admitted, her voice dropping to a raw whisper. “Spring whatever trap it is they have and be done with it.”

“Maybe we talk with them and see if they’re willing to compromise?” Quinn suggested, tilting her head with a faint flicker of hope in her tone.

Elara let out a bitter scoff, dragging her hands down her face. “Mommy said she wouldn’t forgive this… I don’t see how that would help us any.”

Quinn chewed her lip for a moment before tossing out another idea. “Maybe we go to the head of House Ruby? Tell them… I don’t know… our caregivers aren’t teaching us to the degree we need?”

“Oh, and that’ll go over smoothly,” Elara shot back sarcastically, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “That will not invite any trouble whatsoever.”

Quinn gave an exaggerated sigh, slumping further against the crib bars. “I’m trying to come up with solutions, Elara. I don’t have any better ideas.”

Elara winced, her lips thinning into a tight line as guilt pricked at her. “Sorry…” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes again with a tired groan. “I’m just strung out from all this.” She yawned, her jaw cracking softly. “I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a week.”

Quinn nodded, her expression softening a bit as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “Yeah, me neither. This waiting game’s screwing with my head worse than any rune ever did. At least then I knew what to expect—even if it was messed up.”

Elara stared at the ceiling of their shared dorm, the dim light casting long shadows across the stone walls. Her mind churned restlessly, replaying every cold glance and absent moment from Mommy over the past week. The silence was deafening in its own way—a weapon sharper than any harsh word or forced ritual. “What if we just… push them? Like, do something small but obvious. Skip a class or mess up on purpose during practice for the House Cup. See if that forces them to step in.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow, shifting to sit up straighter. “You really wanna poke the bear like that? Could backfire hard if they decide to make an example outta us.”

“I know,” Elara muttered, curling onto her side in the crib, hugging her knees close despite the bulk between her thighs making it awkward. “But sitting here doing nothing feels like losing anyway. If they’re waiting for us to crack first, maybe we flip it—make them react on our terms.”

Quinn tapped her fingers against the wooden frame of her crib, considering it. “Risky as hell. But if we play dumb about whatever we pull—act like clueless babies who didn’t know better—might lessen the blow. Still…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Could also give ‘em an excuse to double down worse than before.”

Elara bit at the inside of her cheek, tasting the faint metallic tang of stress. “Or we could try digging deeper into what we’ve got on them. Sneak around again when they’re not expecting it. If we find something bigger than just those diapers in Mommy’s room, something they can’t spin or ignore, maybe we get real leverage this time.”

“That’s assuming there is anything bigger,” Quinn pointed out, voice low. “And sneaking around twice? They’ll be watching closer now—I bet they already suspect we’re not done poking. Getting caught could screw us way harder than skipping class.”

Elara groaned again, burying her face into the thin pillow under her head. “Then what? Keep playing good little girls while they pretend we don’t exist until I lose my damn mind?”

Quinn didn’t answer right away, the quiet stretching taut between them. Finally, she spoke, softer now. “Look, let’s sleep on it—or try to. We’re both too fried to think straight tonight. Tomorrow after breakfast, we pick one idea and commit. Push ‘em or dig deeper—just no more of this limbo crap.”

Elara nodded faintly against the pillow, though sleep felt miles away despite the exhaustion dragging at her bones. “Fine. Tomorrow.” Her voice was muffled but resolute enough. Still, as she lay there listening to Quinn settle down in her own crib across the room, the gnawing uncertainty refused to loosen its grip. Every creak of the floorboards outside sounded like footsteps approaching; every shadow felt like Mommy looming just out of sight, biding her time with some unseen plan that would shatter whatever fragile ground they stood on now.

***

Elara stirred from a restless sleep, her mind still tangled in half-formed dreams and lingering dread, when a gentle shake pulled her back to reality.

“Elara,” Quinn’s voice came softly, barely above a whisper.

“What?” Elara grumbled, blinking through the sleepy haze as she rubbed her eyes with clumsy fists. The dim morning light filtering through the dorm window did little to help her focus.

“Come on, get up. We’ve gotta get you changed,” Quinn said, her tone gentle but insistent as she helped Elara sit up in the crib, the lowered side making it easier to maneuver.

“Changed? What do you mean?” Elara asked, confusion knitting her brow as she squinted at her friend standing beside her, already dressed in her uniform.

“You didn’t change before bed, and your diaper leaked,” Quinn explained matter-of-factly, gripping Elara’s arm to steady her as she helped her stand.

Elara blinked in surprise, her gaze dropping to herself. Her diaper felt cool and clammy against her skin, heavier than it should’ve been, the bulk sagging noticeably. She hadn’t remembered waking up at all during the night, let alone using it. A flicker of concern tightened her chest as she touched the damp edge peeking out beneath the fabric. “I… don’t remember going…” she said softly, looking up at Quinn with furrowed brows.

Quinn’s lips pressed into a thin line as she tugged Elara toward the changing table in the corner of their dorm. “It’s just the nerves,” she reassured, though there was a slight edge to her voice, like she was trying to convince herself too. “You said yourself you haven’t been sleeping right. Come on, I’ll get you changed.”

Elara felt heat creep into her cheeks as Quinn guided her up onto the changing table. It wasn’t like Quinn hadn’t seen her bare before—hell, the memory of Quinn’s fingers slipping inside her, curling just right to hit that sweet spot, still flashed through her mind sometimes when she caught her friend’s eye at the wrong moment.

But something about being changed by her now felt… off. Intimate in a way that made her stomach twist with an odd mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. Still, she was too tired to argue, exhaustion weighing down every limb as she lay back on the padded surface, letting out a small sigh.

Quinn didn’t hesitate, reaching for the tabs on either side of Elara’s soaked diaper with ease. “Lift your hips a bit,” she muttered, tugging at the material as Elara complied sluggishly. The wet bulk peeled away from her skin with a faint squelch, cool air hitting her exposed flesh and sending a shiver up her spine.

Quinn grabbed a wipe from the stack nearby, swiping it across Elara’s skin methodically—first over her mound, then lower between her folds, cleaning away the dampness with quick, efficient strokes.

“You really don’t remember anything?” Quinn asked after a moment, glancing up at Elara’s face while she worked, folding the used wipe into itself before grabbing another.

“No,” Elara mumbled, staring at the ceiling to avoid meeting her friend’s eyes. Her cheeks burned hotter now, especially with how close Quinn’s hands were, brushing against sensitive skin even if it was purely clinical. “I mean… I’ve been so out of it lately. Maybe I just didn’t wake up enough to notice.”

“Hmm.” Quinn hummed noncommittally, finishing up with the wipes before tossing them aside into a small bin under the table. She reached for a fresh diaper from the shelf below, shaking it out with a soft crinkle. “Well, stress’ll do that. Messes with your head—and apparently your bladder too.” There was a faint smirk in her tone now, though it lacked any real malice.

“Shut up,” Elara muttered weakly, shifting uncomfortably as Quinn slid the new diaper under her hips, nudging her again to lift up so she could position it properly.

“Hold still,” Quinn said, ignoring the protest as she dusted a light layer of powder over Elara’s skin, rubbing it in briefly before pulling the front of the diaper up between her legs. Her fingers worked fast on the tabs, securing them snugly against Elara’s waist until everything was tucked neatly in place. “There. All clean and dry.”

Elara sat up slowly once it was done, swinging her legs over the edge of the table. The fresh padding felt oddly comforting despite everything, though she couldn’t shake that lingering unease about not remembering last night. “Thanks,” she said quietly, hopping down onto unsteady feet.

“Don’t mention it,” Quinn replied, wiping her hands on a spare towel before turning toward her own things on the bed. “Let’s just get dressed quick and grab breakfast before class. We’ve got enough to worry about without being late.”

“Yeah,” Elara agreed absently, shuffling toward her uniform laid out on a chair. But even as she started pulling on her skirt and blouse, buttoning up with sluggish fingers, that knot of worry stayed lodged tight in her chest.

Not remembering wetting herself. Was it really just stress? Or was something else at play here, something tied to Mommy’s sudden distance or some unseen magic creeping back into their lives? She pushed the thought down for now, but it lingered like a shadow at the edge of her mind, refusing to be ignored.

Elara finished dressing in silence. As they made their way to the dining hall, a sharp stab of guilt sliced through Elara. In her embarrassment over the leak and Quinn changing her, she hadn’t even thought to offer the same in return. She glanced at Quinn, whose expression remained neutral as they walked, but there was nothing she could do about it now. The moment had passed, and bringing it up would only make things weirder.

They stepped into the dining hall, the familiar clamor of clinking plates and overlapping voices greeting them. Before they could grab trays or find a spot, the head of House Ruby stood at the front of the hall on a raised platform, her stern face cutting through the noise as she motioned sharply for everyone to sit and be quiet. Elara and Quinn exchanged puzzled looks but obeyed, sliding into seats near the middle of a long table as the room hushed.

“Thank you, everyone,” the head’s voice boomed across the hall, carrying an edge that demanded attention. “With the House Cup approaching, I felt it imperative to inform you of some… alterations… to the competition.” She paused for effect, her chin dipping several inches as she punctuated the word with deliberate weight. “Littlewick is tightening its control over students here. As such, those who do not meet standards are going to be… dropped.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but she pressed on before it could swell. “And to that point,” she continued, her gaze sweeping over them like a hawk sizing up prey, “it has been decided that in accordance with each house’s scoring for new students, the lowest-ranking students will not be offered the opportunity to continue their studies here. So it is with the utmost importance that each and every one of you works extra hard to maintain your rankings and push to become the best students you can be.”

With that, she stepped down from the platform, her robes swishing with finality. The hall erupted into a buzz of anxious conversations almost instantly, students whispering frantically to each other, some pale-faced, others gesturing wildly as they processed the news.

Elara barely heard any of it. Her eyes were locked on the large board behind where the head had stood, a detailed chart pinned up for all to see, listing every student’s ranking within House Ruby. Her stomach plummeted as she scanned down the list.

Her name and Quinn’s names glaring back at her from near the very bottom.