CH.13 A little wicked
Her stepmother had Iris called. After the incident in her chamber, she didn't want to make the same mistake of setting foot there again.
In fact, she didn't want to be alone with her very much.
So they sat in the blue drawing room. The servants served them small dishes and tea, which were supposed to stave off hunger until dinner.
"What do you want from me this time, stepmother?"
"Did you forget to call me ma'am?"
"No, ma'am," she said with a hint of disgust.
"There will be a gala dinner tomorrow, which you will, of course, not be attending," she replied. "The kitchen is short of staff and I have offered you to help. I guess working in the kitchen will keep you busy enough to keep you out of the Prince's sight."
"As I said, I am no threat to your interests," Iris said.
"Last time, it didn't seem like you aren't interested in him," said the stepmother, studying her reaction.
"Magic is irreversible. My interests don't matter anymore anyway," Iris replied coldly.
"I'd rather you stay away from him anyway."
"As you wish, madam."
?
With the first rays of sunlight bringing the day to the land, the maid came from the kitchen to wake Iris. She tore the covers off her, jerking her out of the realm of sweet dreams. Iris almost fell out of bed in fright.
"Get up, girl!"
"Let me sleep," Iris complained. "It's still dark outside."
"Dawn is the best time to pick mushrooms."
"Can't you buy them at the market?"
"No," she snapped. "If you don't want to get in trouble, get up. I'm not going to wait for you."
Iris was forced to reluctantly climb out of bed.
She could barely keep her eyes open, wanting to fall back asleep.
Instead, she had to walk through the forest, looking for mushrooms. The dew clung to the dry leaves.
The morning chill crept over her skin. Fallen branches cracked under her feet.
It was dark under the green treetops. The night refused to give up its power there.
"Madam can be strict, but she cooks the best in the whole kingdom," said the young girl, who had also gone with them to look for mushrooms in the forest. "You'll get used to it quickly."
"I've been through worse," Iris said.
"You mean your stepmother, Madam Tremaine? I would expect the future queen's sister—"
"Stepsister," Iris corrected her.
"Even as a stepsister, I would expect you to be in better company and not be sent to the kitchen," she said.
"Madam Tremaine is simply a classic stepmother from a fairy tale." She smiled mischievously. "And why are you here? Also for punishment?"
"No, I'm here voluntarily," the girl replied. "They wouldn't pay me better anywhere else, and my family needs money. My sister's husband died and she's left with a small child. I'm trying to help her."
"Shut up!" the head cook snapped. "I don't need to hear your miserable stories about how unfair fate is to you. Concentrate on picking mushrooms. Your baskets are still empty, and I expect them to be full."
Iris rolled her eyes. Madam Head Chef was a very unpleasant person.
"Yes, ma'am," the girl said obediently, lowering her gaze to the forest floor.
Iris didn't try very hard to find mushrooms. She just walked through the forest, kicking into the mixture of fallen leaves and branches, overgrown with blades of grass. Sometimes she managed to find something, so she cut the mushroom at the root and threw it into the basket.
"Stepmother might like this." Luc pointed with a wicked smile at a plant that wrapped around the trunk of the tree. It bore indigo berries that looked like blueberries.
"What is that?" Iris asked.
"Let's just say they'll feel very uncomfortable for a few days."
Iris plucked a few berries and threw them into the pouch tied to her belt, where she still carried the shard of the mirror with her.
As they returned to the palace, the head cook looked through the full baskets and mushrooms they had gathered. She paused at Iris'. She looked into it as if she had seen a ghost.
"Are you trying to poison everyone at the table?!" she snapped at her.
"Why?" Iris asked in confusion.
"Your basket is full of all poisonous mushrooms, which I guess exist. You could kill the whole palace with them. You clumsy little girl, don't you know about toadstools?" she screamed at her.
"I don't know mushrooms and these looked pretty to me," she said innocently. "Such a beautiful red and they're all dotted."
A lie. The truth is, she knew exactly what she was throwing into the basket. She was just playing dumb.
"I curse whoever sent you into my kitchen." She shook her head.
If only it were possible, Iris wished.
The preparations for the gala dinner lasted all day.
People were running back and forth in the kitchen.
The head cook shouted orders. Iris took advantage of the commotion to disappear.
She sat on the steps leading to the kitchen.
The shadow of the castle protected her from the harsh sun.
She took the shard of a mirror from her purse.
She whispered into it the words Luc had taught her.
"Ostende mihi principem Edmundum!"
The reflection in it showed her what she wanted to see. She saw Prince Edmund. But he was not alone. He and Anastasia were chasing each other around the gardens. They were laughing. His smile was sincere at that moment, she could see it in him, and that hurt the most.
"What are you doing here?" the unpleasant voice said from behind her.
Iris jumped in fright. She quickly hid the mirror. She cut her finger on its sharp edge. She licked a drop of her blood, tasting so sweet on her tongue.
"What are you hiding? What is it? Show it to me!"
"Nothing, ma'am," said Iris.
"Do you think I'm stupid? What are you doing? Are you stealing food?"
"No!" Iris denied the outrageous accusation. "And my personal affairs are none of your business."
"It is if I have a feeling you're breaking the rules of this kitchen."
"I am not a thief. I am offended by your accusation."
"Then show me what you're hiding."
"No!"
"What's all the shouting about? Is there a problem, ladies?" Commander Dominic appeared there.
"Yes," said Iris. "Here, madam accuses me of theft."
"And what do you think she was supposed to steal?" he asked the head cook.
"I don't know," she replied. "But she's hiding something. She must have stolen something."
"I am certain that Miss Iris is not a thief, ma'am," said the commander. "I can vouch for her." He gave her a smile.
"So what is he hiding in his bag then?" the head cook couldn't be deterred.
The commander approached Iris. He gave her a sympathetic look.
"May I please see what you are hiding in that bag, Miss Iris. To show the madam that you have not stolen anything. I trust you."
Iris sighed. She pulled out the shard of the mirror and handed it to him. The commander looked at it inquiringly.
"Interesting. Just a piece of broken mirror."
"As I say, I didn't steal anything."
"See, ma'am? She's innocent." he handed the mirror back to Iris.
The head chef snorted in dissatisfaction. Refusing to accept the truth, she grabbed Iris and pushed her into the kitchen.
"Go clean the vegetables! At least be useful."
Iris turned to the commander one last time and gave him a smile. "Thank you for your trust, commander," she said to him and left.
"What's your real name?" Iris asked the young girl from the forest as she cleaned the vegetables and was in charge of cutting them.
"Emilia," she replied. "I already know your name. Iris, right?"
She nodded.
"I noticed in the forest that you have an interesting tattoo on your palm," Emilia remarked.
Iris showed her the eye adorning her palm. She only hoped it wouldn't blink at her as if it were alive.
"I have it in common with one man. It connects us," she said.
"Great love?" Emilia asked her.
"I don't even know what's going on between us. It's complicated."
"And what do you feel about him?"
"My feelings have been confusing lately.
It's like drowning in a sea of moths. You want to surface, to catch your breath, but the waves always pull you back down.
" It was only when she said it out loud that she realized the depths she was sinking into.
How lost she was. She shook the feeling off as if it were just a bad dream.
A dream from which she would never wake up.
"And is there a man who stole your heart?" she asked, drawing attention away from herself and the tattoo on her palm.
"There was one. Once." Her eyes were filled with daydreaming. "He was the most handsome young man in the whole village. Everyone wanted him. As a farmer's daughter, I had no chance. In the end, he married the daughter of a rich merchant from a nearby town."
"I'm sorry."
"Not me. It only hurts to long for something you can never have. Men always have been and always will be. One day I will meet the one who will be mine alone."
Does she long for her own broken heart, Iris thought. Just like Luc had told her? How could Emilia take it so lightly? Iris didn't know if she believed in fate that much. Sometimes, you just had to fight for it.
Commander Dominic took a knife and joined them. He helped Iris peel the potatoes.
"What are you talking about, ladies?"
"About soulmates," they replied at the same time.
"Soulmates? That's a pretty serious topic for such a beautiful day."
"And what brings you here to the kitchen, Commander?" Iris asked him a question.
"Whenever there was a gala dinner, Prince Edmund and I would go and taste the desserts prepared only for special occasions. We would secretly steal pieces and the cooks had to kick us out. But now His Highness is busy, so I am here alone."
"But watch out for the head cook. She might curse you with her gaze if she catches you."
"With your ability in battle, you will surely protect me, Miss Iris." He gave her a kind smile.
"I'll try."
?
The last of the eight courses was ice cream with wild berries.
Iris had found a way to sneak in the berries that Luc had shown her in the forest. She had been saving them only for her stepmother and Anastasia, but why not make trouble for the hostile head cook who had been terrorizing her all day? And all Iris needed to do was wait.
The servants took the ice cream, served in crystal glasses, and placed it before the royal family and the nobility, seated at one table. The fake blueberries smiled at them. They eagerly bit into them.
"I apologize, but my stomach is already more than full. I will skip the last course." The prince was the only one who refused.
"Can I have yours too?" Anastasia asked him, gazing greedily at his untouched ice cream as she finished hers.
"Of course, love." He pushed it to her.
It didn't take long for the first symptoms to show. The gala dinner was ending and they felt the itching. It got worse. Their skin was adorned with red rashes. It itched unbearably. They scratched until they bled.
"It's the ice cream," someone thought when the prince showed no signs of being like the others.
They were looking for the culprit. They were looking for the one in the kitchen. The head cook was punished for how something like this could have happened. How could she have let it happen? And Iris just laughed.
She was sitting at a small table with her legs spread out in her room, contentedly eating a beautiful red apple, when her stepmother and stepsister burst in, shouting at her.
"It was you! You must have had a hand in this!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Iris said indifferently.
"You know very well what I'm talking about. This is your job."
The stepmother pointed to the ugly rashes adorning their skin. They spread down their arms, down their necks, and up to their faces. They covered their entire bodies. They looked unpleasant, and it was even worse to be their victim.
"Prove it!"
"You won't get away with this," she said through clenched teeth.
She took a bite of the apple and offered it to them. "Would you like some?"
Her stepmother knocked it out of her hand, her eyes flashing with pure fury, which she tried to suppress.
Her indifference and calm only made her more furious.
She felt a smile that did not appear on her lips.
How haughtily she sat there, thinking she had won, but she was the one holding all the aces up her sleeve. Nasty little witch.
"You're wasting food. That apple was really delicious. It was divine," said Iris, ignoring her words.
The stepmother reached out to slap her, but quickly pulled her hand back, the memory of what happened when she tried to hurt her the last time still vividly playing in her mind. She didn't want to taste the touch of that invisible power again.
"Like I said, you won't get away with this."
The stepmother and Anastasia stormed out of the room, slamming doors, their desire for revenge unfulfilled.
"That was very mean, my little witch," Luc said, constantly watching her from the shadows.
"I still have a few berries left." Shegave him a mischievous smile.