Chapter 3
A fter a fitful night of sleep, I returned to find the castle in a frenzy.
Mellie flitted around the kitchen, abuzz with nervous energy, while James stood in front of the oven, wringing his hands and refusing to take his eyes off his strudel. Even Serena had set aside her usual mask of snobbery and was working alongside me diligently to prepare the morning meal.
The sheer quantity of food was staggering; despite spending the evening stewing in anger over the premise of the contest, I had forgotten that the first trial would be taking place today. With twenty extra mouths to feed, it seemed we would have our work cut out for us.
The aroma of fat slices of bacon frying in the room next door made my stomach rumble as I tried to remain focused on the task at hand. Having arrived at the palace before sunrise to prep breakfast, I had already been working on this morning’s pastries for almost three hours.
To combat my restlessness, I helped Mellie decorate her blueberry breakfast cake while I waited for my trays to finish baking. We worked in tense silence, trying to ignore everything unsaid between us. Now wasn’t the time.
When we had finished, I pulled my custard-filled puff pastry out of the oven, sighing in relief that everything was ready in time, and set the baking sheet down on the warm wood of the butcher block countertop.
“All right,” Helga called, rounding up the kitchen staff. “I need everybody with a free hand to grab a dish and head upstairs. Our wait staff needs a bit of help with the extra volume and we’re all going to pitch in. I don’t want to hear any complaining about it.” No one challenged her, and I didn’t blame them. Helga ran a tight ship, and her years of service had hardened her into a machine of efficiency.
I reached for my tray only to find that James had already grabbed both his and my bakes, winking at me over his shoulder as he moved towards the servants’ passages.
There was a silver platter on the workbench next to me, so I grabbed it, careful not to upset the dome that insulated the food, and turned to follow him up.
Helga’s arm reached out to stop me just before I reached the door.
“Not that one.” She shook her head. “That’s the queen’s breakfast. The tray needs to be delivered directly to her quarters.”
I bit my lip, trying to spin the right words to get out of the task. I’d already made a fool of myself in front of one royal. Keeping a low profile would be best. “Can you give this to someone else? I’ve never met the queen before.”
“Meet the queen!” she laughed. “You won’t be getting so lucky today, Parry. Aurelie, her handmaid, will meet you at her door. Just curtsy, hand her the food, and come back down.”
“I don’t even know where her chambers are,” I said, a pleading note creeping into my voice.
My appeal didn’t sway Helga whatsoever.
“Keep going past the dining room entrance,” she barrelled on, "up the set of stairs on the left, make a right, then a left, and then take the second staircase on the right-hand side. Her door is the third on the right. You can’t miss it.”
I started to assure her that I most certainly could, but she marched away to chastise the poor boy delivering the scrambled eggs, who had upset half the tray he was carrying when he’d bumped into another chef.
“Can you repeat that?” I called after her.
Helga repeated the series of directives that still would not seem to stick in my mind, finishing with, “It’s so simple a child could do it, and I don’t have the time to baby you right now. Go!”
The passageway was cool and darker than I remembered. Perhaps it was only my anxiety as I begged my mind to recall her directions. Past the dining room entrance, make a left, then a right, then up the steps?
The winding staircase veered to the left and I adjusted the tray in my hands, careful not to drop it, as I continued my ascent.
A few paces further up, I began to hear faint scuffling sounds. Maybe the servant ahead of me could repeat the way, just to make sure I was remembering the directions correctly?
I opened my mouth to call out and nearly walked directly into the prince himself.
Not the right stairway, then. Shit.
He was seated on the steps, head in his hands, and when I met his gaze, I was surprised to note that his eyes were bloodshot.
“Oh.” His voice was gruff and short. “You again. Do us both a favor and remove yourself from my presence. I’m in no mood for company at the moment.”
More than happy to comply, I turned the way I came and began to bolt back down the stairs. In my haste to put as much distance between myself and the prince as possible, my foot lost purchase on the stone steps and I found myself slipping, the tray flying out of my hands and clattering on the ground.
Reality took a moment to catch up as I registered the pain in my leg where I had bashed it on the stone. Thankfully, it seemed to be a minor injury; the skin hadn’t broken, but I would probably have a bruise tomorrow.
As I examined it, a large hand found my elbow and lifted me back up.
Caught off guard by the contact, I jerked my arm back.
“You don’t have to break into a run. I’m not a dragon,” came a baritone voice from just behind my ear.
No, just as selfish as one, I thought bitterly, hoarding your magic like gold.
This time I had the good sense to keep my anger to myself and settled on a polite, “Thank you,” hastily moving away as I bent to gather the contents of the upset breakfast tray.
The porridge bowl was upturned all over the flagstone, the eggs and toast a mangled mess. I would have to go back to the kitchen for a new tray, and a rag to clean this passageway while I was at it.
To my surprise, the prince knelt next to me and began to gather the dishware off the ground.
“You don’t have to do that, your Highness. Please allow me-”
“Well, I do take partial responsibility for the incident.” That must be a first. “Besides, if I assist you in removing the spill, I can sooner go back to my solitude. It’s been a very taxing morning.”
My traitorous throat let out a scoff as I stood with the tray.
“Do you have something to say?” His gaze was piercing.
“No, your Highness.” I forced myself to look at the stairs as I backed up, on the defensive once again.
“Your expression says otherwise. Though I applaud your attempt to keep your mouth shut this time. It’s quite amusing, and I must confess I was in need of a diversion.”
Bile rising in my throat, I turned toward him. How dare this man pretend to know me? To mock me so callously?
“If you must know, ” the words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, “I was thinking about how truly difficult this must be for you.” Sarcasm dripped from my words like honey. “To have two dozen young women throw themselves at your feet, begging you to take their power. I can see how that would be taxing.”
He took a long stride down the steps toward me.
“You think I want to be in this position?” he asked, his voice coming out in a low growl. “You have no idea what’s at stake. What I have to find here, against all odds. Most of those women look at me and all they see is a crown.” He was close again. Too close. I could see impossibly gold flecks in his blue eyes.
“A crown I somehow need to stabilize to keep every innocent Wielder in this kingdom safe from being hunted for their powers. A crown, mind you, that I don’t even want,” he continued, his volume rising. “If my mother wasn’t dying–” The prince stopped, fumbling with his words as he found himself at a loss of what to say. His expression blanched, the color leaching from his face as he realized what he had just admitted.
My jaw dropped in shock, opening and closing like a fish as I tried and failed to come up with an appropriate response.
The queen is dying?
“I’m sorry,” I said lamely.
“Dying to see me married, I mean. Of course.” The words tumbled out too fast, a hastily wrapped bandage over a fatal wound.
The gears of my mind began whirring furiously, piecing everything together: the secret Mellie wouldn’t divulge last night, the rush to get the prince to wed and assume the throne . . .
“Of course,” I said. From his quick attempt at recovery, I was fairly sure I wasn’t supposed to know any of what I was beginning to uncover, so I nodded furiously, all too willing to let him disguise his unintentional vulnerability. This was far above my station. “Your Highness, I apologize for my impertinence. I should be getting back to the kitchen.”
I moved to go again and made it a few steps before he asked, “What is your name?”
Wonderful. I was sacked. Completely, absolutely, without a doubt sacked. I just hoped Mellie would emerge unscathed.
“Quinn Parry.” The syllables tumbled from my lips before I had a chance to think about them. Why hadn’t I made something up? Or said Serena? A total of five minutes in this man’s presence and I had already made no fewer than three catastrophically terrible decisions.
I had no idea what I was going to tell Mellie. I reached the bottom of the steps, out of sight of the prince, and swung open the door.
As it closed behind me, I heard a soft, “I’m sorry, Quinn Parry.”
. . .
Back in the kitchens, I searched for my friend. I had multiple apologies for her and I needed to be the one to tell her that I was about to be thrown out of the castle. She must’ve been upstairs, because I didn’t see her messy bob weaving in and out of the bustling kitchen crowds.
My eyes caught on a well-dressed woman, likely in her fifties or sixties, speaking to one of the waitstaff by the door. Only a few words of their conversation were audible from here.
“ . . .the queen’s breakfast tray . . .?”
Oh gods. That must be Aurelie. I had completely forgotten about the queen’s breakfast. The waitperson rushed to the staging area, assembling a new tray and pushing it into her hands.
As she turned to go, the door swung open, and Mellie rushed into the room. Her warm brown eyes found mine and she made her way towards me, nervous energy radiating off her. Did she already know?
“Mellie, I’m so sorry,” I began.
“No time. You’ve been requested upstairs. By name.”
Dread pooled in my gut. I needed to make her understand, but she was ushering me toward the door.
“Here, take this.” She handed me a basket of scones.
“Mellie, I took a wrong turn in the hallway and ended up in this stairwell . . .”
She cut me off. “When the Crown calls on us, we do not make them wait, Quinny.”
After a quick pat on the back, she shooed me out into the stairwell and closed the door behind me. Heaving a sigh, I started working my way up. It had only taken me a few days to lose my position here; it must be a record of some sort. Now I would have to go crawling home to Mother and endure her gloating about how right she had been . . .
Upon entering the dining room, I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to report. Mellie hadn’t said who had called for me, but I had a decent guess.
Prince Evander was already sitting at the head of the table, any trace of his earlier outburst wiped from his face. His mouth was fashioned into what I’d guess was meant to be a smile, though it came off more like a nervous grimace.
He glanced at me and motioned to the guard flanking him. The woman had warm olive skin and her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, not a strand out of place. An easy air of confidence identified her as a woman in charge. Despite looking to be about my mother’s age, she had a strong build and I could tell that she could overpower me with half a thought.
When she bent down, he whispered something into her ear, his blue eyes once again finding me effortlessly in the crowded room. If only I had a Gift that could make me disappear. She followed his gaze to where I was standing and nodded once before resuming her position on his left.
Should I approach them?
My attention was stolen from my fretting as a burst of light flashed from the corner of the room. The ice-Wielder from yesterday rubbed his eyes as the woman in front of him bounced up and down with glee. He wrote something on the parchment he was holding, and she took her seat at the table, sending the woman on her left to take her place.
The second contestant picked up her fork, approached the man with all the confidence of a newborn fawn, and made a strained face as she stared at it in her hand. Nothing happened, so she tried again. It looked almost painful.
Finally, the utensil lifted off her hand an inch or so, hovered for a few seconds, and came back down. Her attempt to read what was being written about her was anything but subtle, and her shoulders slumped in relief when the man instructed her to return to the table.
A few more girls followed the same pattern; a petite dark-skinned woman with tight black curls produced a colorful bouquet from a salad bowl on the banquet table. Then a tall, lithe brunette woman conjured a small flock of blue jays. A sweet-looking redhead wasn’t able to manage anything at all and was escorted out of the room weeping quietly.
This must be the first trial.
Not very dramatic or exciting, but a decent first testing point, I supposed. Demonstrate your magic and move on to round two. Fail, and you were sent home.
I was still standing there dumbly with my basket of scones, unsure if I should approach the prince and his guard, when I saw a familiar bob of short blonde hair approach the tester. The woman tapped the ice-Wielder on the shoulder and his uniform changed from its burgundy hue to a bright canary yellow.
I knew that trick. I knew that hair.
Marisol lived a few doors down from Mother’s cottage and her father owned the tailor shop in our neighborhood. Though we had never been particularly friendly, she would certainly recognize me if she looked my way. I turned my back to her, praying I hadn’t been spotted. Even if I was about to get fired, I didn’t need my mother to know where I had been these past few days.
As if on command, the prince’s guard marched over to me, every step of her confident stride a death toll.
“Quinn Parry?”
I nodded, heart in my throat.
The guard motioned me farther away from the table.
“Prince Evander informed me that you had an unexpected run-in this morning. From what I understand, there were aspects of the conversation that the prince wishes to remain quiet. You would do well to forget the encounter ever happened.” She looked at me with an uncomfortable intensity, as if she was staring straight into my mind, and her eyes flashed. The woman was terrifying.
“Yes ma’am,” I managed. I waited for my dismissal from the staff.
“Very good.” She patted my shoulder in a bizarre change in demeanor. “You may return to the kitchens.”
What? It took a considerable amount of effort to close my hanging jaw and compose myself.
Not willing to push my luck again, I did as I was told, resisting the urge to break into a full run towards the door. I needed to find Mellie.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to look hard this time, as she was waiting for me at the entrance to the kitchens, the panic on her face veiled only by the thinnest sheet of gossamer.
“Quinn, what was that about?”
I glanced around the room. “We should probably speak in private.”
Mellie’s eyes widened, but she said nothing as she led the way to her chamber, locking the door behind us.
Not a second later, I blurted out, “Queen Evalina is dying?”
My friend let out a small gasp as her hand flew up to her mouth, shock carved into the lines on her forehead.
“Quinn, how . . .?”
The story spilled out of my lips, frantic and confused. “The prince told me. I don’t think he meant to, but I was sort of baiting him a bit and it slipped out and he tried to recover but he said it, Mellie, I know what I heard–”
“Whoa,” she interrupted, using both the tone and body language one might use on a spooked horse. “I’m going to need you to slow down. Let’s start with the prince.”
My face heated in embarrassment as I recounted our brush in the stairwell. Telling Mellie that I had lost my temper before knowing all the facts again was humiliating. A sigh of exasperation was her only reaction, but I knew she was disappointed in me. At least the knowledge I gained in the encounter shed light on one point of contention from the last week.
“Is that why they’re having this competition?” I asked. “They need to find someone else to help Prince Evander hold the throne because the queen is ill?”
Mellie sighed. “Well, I suppose there’s not much use in me hiding anything from you now. At least I wasn’t the one who divulged Evalina’s secret.” After a deep inhale, she continued.
"Since the king died a few years ago, Queen Evalina has been bearing the weight of the crown on her own. I don’t know the details, but from what I understand, it takes an immense amount of magic, and it became significantly harder after the war. She knew Prince Evander needed to find a bride and take the throne, but she loves her son so much that she couldn’t stand the idea of him in an arranged marriage. What she and the King had was beautiful and rare, and she doesn’t want anything less for Evander.”
“So he’s just been letting her suffer?” Though I could understand the queen’s motivation, I still didn’t know why her son hadn’t assumed responsibility earlier, especially if his mother’s health was at stake.
“That’s the thing, Dumpling,” Mellie said, taking my hand. “He didn’t know it was draining her.”
He didn’t know? That seemed . . . convenient.
“How is that possible?” I asked.
“Evalina hid the truth from him for as long as she could to try to give him a chance to find a partner. She didn’t want to burden him with the pressure, but she just kept getting weaker from the drain on her magic. I convinced her to come clean to him a few months ago, and he began the search for these contestants the very same day.”
“Couldn’t the queen just remarry?” I asked. If she was so set on her son finding love as she had, it would certainly be the easier option for her to enter into a political alliance.
“She should, in my opinion. But Evalina is a stubborn woman. I think she sees it as a betrayal of her late husband. And she was convinced she could do it on her own . . . until she couldn’t.”
Mellie’s eyes welled up with tears, the sight shocking me out of my interrogation. I hadn’t known she and the queen were so close, but with the secret visits to her bakery for the last ten years, I imagined they had spent more time together than I realized.
Reaching out, I squeezed my friend’s hand. It seemed cruel to ask her more when she was barely maintaining her composure, but if I was ever going to get answers, now was the time. There was still one aspect of this that didn’t make any sense to me.
I began as gently as I could. “So how does this tie into the strength of magic in the castle?”
Wiping her eyes with the back of her other hand, Mellie sniffled, closing her eyes tightly, as if she could shut the grief behind her lids.
“Evalina is concentrating as much power as she can here to allow Prince Evander to hold this competition. It’s the best chance he has of finding a queen with enough power to help hold the throne in the little time he has.”
I raised my eyebrows. While I still didn’t like the man, I didn’t envy his position. Having so little time to choose a wife, knowing that every day he delayed put his mother at more risk . . . that must be hellish.
As if sensing my thoughts, Mellie continued. “The prince has always been a mother’s boy, named for her and everything, and he’s outraged that she kept her condition from him. I’ve only met the man twice, but servants who’ve been around the castle for many years say he’s a shadow of himself, short-tempered and on edge all of the time. I think he shoulders the blame for her decline. Even without the truth about Evalina’s condition, everyone in the kingdom knew he needed to marry except himself . . . I don’t think anyone had the courage to tell him.”
Guilt settled in my stomach with the realization that I had inserted myself into a situation I knew very little about and had inadvertently kicked a man already down. Then I remembered his condescending attitude and felt a bit better. He didn’t have to be such an ass.
Silence weighed down the room as I took in the impossible information and Mellie tried to compose herself.
“I owe you an apology, Mels.”
“I understand, Dumpling. I was trying to find a way to help you see the truth without giving up Evalina’s secret, but I kept a lot from you.” She pulled me into an embrace. “Are you all right?”
My hand flew to my mouth. I had been so caught up in my line of questioning that I’d forgotten to tell her what happened in the dining room.
“Mellie, there’s more. When I was called into the dining room, a guard asked to speak with me privately, told me to forget the conversation with Evander ever happened, and that was all. Why was I not sacked? I should be fired for speaking to him the way I did.”
Mellie’s brows furrowed. “A guard? What did they look like?”
I recalled the details as best I could. The whole morning was blurred with panic. “Medium height, strong build, warm skin, dark brown hair in a bun?”
Mellie’s expression shifted from befuddled to flabbergasted as her eyes flared wide. “Quinny, that was Maddox,” she concluded, punching emphasis into the last word.
I could tell from her tone the name was supposed to mean something to me, but it was entirely unfamiliar.
“The Captain of the Guard,” Mellie said when I didn’t react. “The woman is so efficient at her job it’s like she’s a machine. Maddox is not one to mess around.” Her head shook slightly. Whether it was in warning or fear, I didn’t know.
“So again, why am I still here?” My head was spinning with information.
“I’m not sure, Quinny, but I think it’s best not to question your good fortune. Steer clear of the prince, keep your head down, and we’ll make it out the other side of this.”
I nodded, mute, as Mellie twisted her hands in her apron. Anyone else might have missed the tremor in her voice, but she couldn’t hide her distress from me.
“The most helpful thing we can do for Evalina right now is to make sure this contest goes as smoothly as possible,” she said.
“Of course, Mellie. Wherever you need, I’m here.”
Sniffling one last time, she squared her shoulders and donned a protective mask of joviality. I suddenly wondered how often she had used it on me.
“Let’s get back to the kitchen. I think we both need something to eat before the lunch rush begins.”
Arm in arm, we headed back the way we came.