The Crown Prophecy

Chapter 2

M y first week of employment consisted of testing out increasingly challenging pastries as I grew in both confidence and awareness of the kitchen workflow. While the baking itself was easier than I’d anticipated, my relationship with my coworkers remained uneasy.

Serena “accidentally” bumped into me on multiple occasions and once upset the mortar and pestle I was using to make the filling for some cardamom buns I had proofing on the counter.

“Soooooo sorry, ‘Quinny,’” she crooned, enunciating Mellie’s nickname for me like it was a slur. “Guess you’ll just have to pop back into the village for some more cardamom.” Never mind that we had a fully stocked pantry larger than most homes.

My blood boiled at her gibes, and there were many times I nearly failed in my resolution to control my temper for Mellie’s sake. My hands shook in fury as I swept up the dough, and I felt my face heat as I thought of all the things I wanted to say to her– harsh, angry words she no doubt deserved to hear. But I refused to create more trouble for my friend. Not when she had gone to such lengths to secure me a place here. Instead, I blinked back my anger and focused on the sweet and peppery smell of the spices as I cleaned them off the floor.

Thankfully, the other bakers were easier to get along with, and though the atmosphere of the kitchen was charged, we found a tense truce amongst Serena’s snide remarks.

I learned that the younger man’s name was James, and though he would often shoot me apologetic glances after Serena’s vitriolic comments, the two of them still seemed quite close and could be found at the dining table together every afternoon with a few other young people from the cooking side of the kitchen. He seemed nice enough, so I didn’t understand why he put up with her snotty attitude, but I shrugged it off. I didn’t need Serena to like me as long as we could get the pastries on the table. I had Mellie, and that was enough.

The other baker, Franc, was an older, silent fellow, and we quickly found an efficient rhythm.

Late one afternoon, between the hustle and bustle of lunch and dinner prep, I took tea with Mellie in her quarters, which were down the hall from the kitchen in the servant’s wing.

The room was modest but warm and comforting, like Mellie herself. A single pine bed covered in a quilted bedspread stood across from a worn wooden table. The small stove used to heat the room also accommodated a small copper tea kettle with blue detailing on its porcelain handle.

“I don’t think they like me,” I confessed into my teacup, trying and failing to meet her eyes. As much as I wished it didn’t bother me, I’d never been able to find peace in being disliked.

“They’ll come around,” Mellie said, waving it off.

“I suppose we don’t know each other all that well.” Not trusting my face to conceal my emotions if I looked at her, my gaze remained fixed on the chipped china in my hands, but my old friend saw straight through my forced air of nonchalance anyway.

The teacup she had been sipping from met her saucer with a soft clink. “Do you know Franc didn’t speak to me for three weeks when I started here? And Serena was just as curt to me as she is to you, maybe even more so.”

“Really?” I asked, my eyes widening in disbelief. Mellie seemed to have built up quite a bit of respect in the kitchen, and she held the mantle well. Even Helga, the head chef on the cooking side, seemed to listen to her advice and requests.

“Really,” she nodded solemnly. The Head Baker before me had been here twenty-seven years. When he left, it was a hard blow to everyone.”

I’d had no idea. Mellie seemed so at ease in her position here.

“So what did you do?” If she could change the staff’s opinion of her, maybe I could as well.

“I kept treating them with kindness, but I was firm in my worth and my right to be here. It took a while, but we found a good dynamic in the end.”

Curiosity was still niggling at me from our conversation on my first day of employment. “What happened to the previous baker? Did he pass?”

“Oh no, Dumpling,” Mellie sighed. “He just got tired. Everyone does around here eventually. Living your entire life inside these walls is too much for a lot of people. From what I’ve heard, he bore it well for many years, but eventually he needed more, so he retired and moved back into the village.”

That was the mystery I still didn’t understand. She mentioned it so casually, as if it were a foregone conclusion, but I had yet to hear one good reason the palace staff was so sequestered.

“Why isn’t anyone allowed to travel between here and the city? You said something about a security concern. Is it truly that dangerous?”

“Well,” she hedged, “Falerin kidnapped so many Wielders during the war . . .” The far wall of her room suddenly became a very interesting thing that apparently required all of her attention.

Knowing Mellie as well as I did, it was easy to spot there was something she wasn’t telling me. She’d never been a particularly good liar.

“Mels, there hasn’t been any conflict with Falerin in almost thirty years,” I pointed out, my brow raised.

The sigh she let out was deep and weary. “There’s a lot you don’t know about this place yet, Quinny. One of the conditions I agreed to in order to hire you on was not to share all the details, but there’s a good reason they try to keep everything inside the castle walls.” She gave me a pointed look I didn’t quite understand.

“How do you handle it?” I asked. “I think I’d go mad.”

“It’s just part of the contract of working here for most of us. For me, the benefits outweigh the disadvantages right now. And there is a good reason, which helps me to rationalize it, but it is difficult. That’s why Serena is so hard on you. She left a lot behind when she took her position five years ago. I haven’t pressed her for the full story, but I know it eats at her that she can’t go back.”

The conversation was making me nervous. The more I pushed, the fewer answers I received.

“Mellie, you make it sound like the place is cursed.” I hoped the teasing I tried to inject into my tone was light enough to hide my unease.

Mellie patted my hand. “Oh, nothing so dramatic, Dumpling. Don’t you worry.” I couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t quite meet my eyes as she changed the subject to the evening meal.

“It’s time to start prepping for supper. We should go wash up.” She stood and turned, hesitating a moment before facing me again.

“I wish I could tell you, Quinny. I really do. It’s just one of those things, you know?”

I didn’t, but I nodded anyway, not wanting to alienate myself from my only friend. Though I still had the distinct sense that she was keeping something from me, I swallowed the nagging feeling of betrayal and dropped the subject, turning my attention to the task at hand.

. . .

On my first day off since starting work at the palace, I slept in. My body hadn’t yet adapted to the early morning hours of my new position, and I found myself in a constant state of fatigue. My tendency to stay up far too late reading, as I had last night, didn’t help matters, but I hadn’t been able to put down The Eriargen Encounter .

Glancing at the clock, I found I could barely call it morning. I stretched, sighing with contentment, and contemplated how I would spend my day. Though I was enjoying my employment, I had missed the village. Perhaps today I would venture out to the shops.

For now, though, I luxuriated in my warm sheets, watching particles of dust dance in a beam of sunlight from my open window. Pleasant chatter wafted in from the street, and a soft breeze blew the lace curtains gently.

When I finally extracted myself from my quilt, I found Mother sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea out of her favorite rose-patterned china.

“Good morning,” I ventured.

To my surprise, she regarded me cordially.

“Good morning, darling. It’s lovely to see you.” There was a hint of passive-aggression in the latter half of her greeting, but I ignored it. This was the most civil she had been to me in a week.

Busying myself by preparing some breakfast, I debated whether I should invite her out with me today. If I didn’t include her, I knew I’d likely get the same refrain that I wasn’t spending enough time at home. Besides, with a planned activity to occupy us, and passersby to stimulate conversation, there was a chance we could make it through the afternoon unscathed. Maybe it would even be healing for our relationship.

“I was planning to go into the square today,” I said, looking back at Mother, whose expression fell immediately, the corners of her mouth turning down. “Would you like to join me?”

She perked up at that, a small smile gracing her face. Guilt twisted in my gut at the sight. All my mother wanted was to spend time with me. Was that truly so horrible?

“Well, I do need a new pair of gloves,” she mused. “We can make an afternoon of it!”

A short while later, we found ourselves in the crisp sunshine of Lilifel’s town square. The oak trees were just beginning to don their autumn coats, burnished bronze and scarlet leaves drifting down like snowflakes.

A deep inhale filled my nose with the scent of the cinnamon apple turnovers being sold at a stand in front of the locksmith’s. I hadn’t seen this one before. It was likely a traveling cart, only in town for the season. I longed to try one of the pastries, but my heart sank as I watched the purveyor heat them with an open flame in his palm. If I purchased something from a Wielder in front of my mother, I knew it would start a fight.

Perhaps I should’ve come alone after all . . .

Reluctantly leaving the cart behind, I followed her down the street and allowed her to sweep me into her favorite tailor’s shop. Like the bakery stand, the modiste on our own street was owned by a Wielder, so she made the trek to the square every time she needed to update her wardrobe.

As she selected a pair of kid leather gloves, I wandered the store, looking at the fussy, trussed-up gowns on the mannequins.

This year’s styles are so stuffy , I thought.

In the far corner of the shop, though, was a sweet pink dress that was unlike most of the others in the shop. It was fitted through the bodice, with long bell sleeves and a flowing skirt. Turning the tag over, I noticed it was marked as discounted.

“Would you like to try that on?” a tailor asked. “The woman who commissioned it wasn’t able to make the final payment, so it’s looking for a new home. It isn’t really the style this season, of course, but it’s charming in its own way, I suppose. It looks to be about your size.”

With a glance over my shoulder, I found that Mother was still occupied with the gloves. The attendant waiting on her was biting his lip nervously as she peppered him with question after question about their material and craftsmanship.

Surprising myself, I nodded to the tailor, who showed me to a small curtained section in the back of the shop. In the middle was a small pedestal, surrounded by three standing mirrors.

“Someone will be with you shortly to help you with the garment,” the woman said. I didn’t really need help donning the dress, but I nodded anyway, content to be waited on after a long week of caring for others.

As I ran my hand over the soft fabric of the dress I had picked out, the voices of two women carried over from the next pedestal.

“Even the crown prince would be taken with you in that gown, Fortunata! I’d wager he’d propose on the spot.”

Her companion barked a laugh. “Unlikely. From what I hear, the man doesn’t give a second glance to anyone he considers below his rank, male or female.”

Mellie’s words rung in my ears. He may be respected in the castle, but my initial criticism of him hadn’t been baseless. Not that idle gossip in the modiste was a reliable source of information, but this was much more in line with what I had heard about the prince.

“That’s only because he hasn’t seen you in this dress,” the first woman giggled.

Fortunata ignored her. “Royalty or not, I wouldn’t want to be tethered to someone like that. I can’t believe he still hasn’t married and taken the throne.”

“Perhaps he hasn’t found love yet.” The supposition was sweet and wholesome, and I imagined the young woman might be wringing her hands as she said it.

Her friend, however, wasn’t so sentimental. Her tone remained resolute as she continued her admonishment of the prince. “Even if he isn’t interested in romance, you think he’d do it for all of us Wielder subjects. How long has his mother been ruling alone? Four years? My father says that when there were two monarchs on the throne, his casting was twice as strong. Nothing like before we had to power the damn wards, but certainly better than the paltry excuse for magic we have now. If you ask me, the prince isn’t too far from King Orobas.”

My head shot up at that, and I was thankful for the cover of the curtains around me as I listened with interest. While I certainly wasn’t one of the prince’s adoring fans, comparing him to the Falerian king seemed like a stretch.

“Oh, you can’t be serious, Tunie!” the first woman gasped. “You can hardly compare the prince not marrying to starting an entire war.”

“I’m only saying that in a way, they’re both acting against Wielders. Orobas may have been more antagonistic, but isn’t the prince harming the kingdom’s magic in his own way by refusing to take the throne? If Falerin ever breaches the wards, we wouldn’t even have enough magic to defend ourselves.”

“I suppose I can see your point, but being a bit spoiled and selfish doesn’t make him nearly as horrible as Orobas. ”

A being of smoke and mirrors, the Falerian king was only spoken about in frightened whispers. I’d heard many conflicting tales, but they all agreed on one point: the man hated magic with an unparalleled passion and was willing to go to extreme lengths to stamp it out.

“Nothing compares to evil like that,” she continued, keeping her voice so low I had to strain to make out the words. “My uncle was captured during the war, and I overheard him telling my mother about what the Falerians did to him while he was a prisoner. They used some unnatural stone to cut him off from his Gift while they probed him for information about Enorias’s wards. Orobas would’ve executed every last one of us with a drop of magic if he had gotten in.”

“Thank the gods the shields held true then,” her companion replied. Returning to a normal volume, she added, “I still don’t like the prince though.”

“I don’t know, Tunie; his face might convince you to look past his faults,” the first woman continued. “I caught a glance of him once as his carriage came through the city, and he was so stunning . . .”

Rolling my eyes, I tuned out the conversation. I’d heard enough of that from Mellie.

Where was the attendant? I was running out of time before Mother would notice I was gone.

I was about to give up waiting and try the dress on by myself when the woman bustled in, a tape measure draped around her neck.

“Apologies, miss. We have a very demanding guest up front and I was called in to assist with some of her more . . . pressing questions.”

I stifled a laugh. I couldn’t imagine who that could be.

The attendant helped me into the dress, closing it in the back with a line of fabric-covered buttons, and pushed the curtains aside so that I could see myself.

The sight made me smile, full and unreserved. The gown was lovely. It was flattering, easy to move in, and I loved the color. This would be a wonderful use of my first wages.

“Quinn! There you are!” Mother’s voice came from behind me. I caught a glimpse of her in the mirror as her face turned sour.

“Oh, how horrid,” she complained. “So plain. And that color clashes horribly with your red hair, don’t you think? This one would be much more suitable.” She fingered an elaborate baby blue gown on a mannequin near her and I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Well, the pink dress wouldn’t be very practical in the kitchen anyway , I thought.

With the tailor’s help, I removed it and emerged from the safety of the curtain wearing the plain clothes I donned before leaving the house. Glancing to the left, I saw the two women I had overheard talking about the prince.

True to her companion’s gushing, the woman on the pedestal looked resplendent in the lilac floor-length number with a corseted waist that accentuated her form. Her friend clapped her hands together in delight, rising off the floor a foot or so as she spun around.

At the sight of her magic, Mother’s face screwed up in disdain.

“We should leave,” she ordered.

Too dejected to argue, I followed her, and didn’t try on anything else for the remainder of the day.

. . .

The following morning, tension hung thick in the air of the kitchen. Helga, the head chef, shuffled around frantically, preparing to feed the large company the prince was entertaining for the contest. The carriages began rolling in last night and I was told they’d be staying for at least three months, so our workload wasn’t about to lighten up.

Mellie and I worked side by side at a set of over six dozen miniature bread boules; While I may have thought three bread ovens a bit excessive when I first arrived, I was beginning to see the necessity.

I hummed to myself, taking care to score the top of each in a delicate leaf pattern. My lame dragged across the floured surface with ease and I admired my handiwork. Royalty always had someone to impress, it seemed, and I hoped that if anyone would enjoy the pretty detailing, it would be those used to luxury. Of course, it was also possible they would be so busy trying to hold up their massive heads that they wouldn’t notice. Either way, I was enjoying the act of creating them.

These would hold a butternut squash bisque that I could already smell from the next room over, topped with dried cranberries, walnuts, and pumpkin seeds. My mouth watered just thinking about the blend of sweet and savory flavors.

Lost in my reverie, I didn’t take notice of the door to the kitchens opening with a creak. Even if I had, I likely wouldn’t have thought anything of it. With a staff so large, people were always coming and going as they worked towards completing the various tasks that were required to get a meal worthy of the royal family on the table.

Suddenly, though, the room became eerily quiet. Even the fire in the ovens seemed subdued somehow. The only noise I could hear was my own soft humming, which I stopped sheepishly, raising my head to see what had caused such a hush.

All at once, the air was sucked out of the room.

Standing in the doorway was a man with the most arresting blue eyes I had ever seen. My ego didn’t even stop to chastise me on the ridiculousness of such a thought as I drank in his form: tall and barrel-chested, he took up a sizable portion of the doorway. He looked to be in his late-twenties and had the posture of someone who held themselves in high regard.

Prince Evander.

It was the fine brocade doublet that gave him away as royalty. The dark blue garment featured intricate golden embroidery that must’ve taken a team of seamstresses weeks to complete. The luxury extended down to his finely tailored pants and shiny leather riding boots.

True to Mellie’s gushing, he had a strong jaw and dark hair with a hint of a wave as it swooped off his face. His penetrating gaze was currently trained on . . . me.

“Are you quite finished? Or would you prefer we all pull up a chair for the show?” His deep voice was calm but threaded with quiet danger. This was a man used to getting anything he asked for at the snap of his fingers.

The arrogance in his tone pulled me back to reality as I recalled the stories I’d heard in the tailor shop about our sovereign-to-be.

I set my jaw and squared up to him, determined that I would not be cowed or humiliated by this man.

“Nearly, sir,” I gritted out, forcing myself to finish the last few notes of the song I’d been humming. It was foolish, and I don’t know what made me do it, but I had always been a bit hotheaded.

Serena sniggered under her breath, Mellie elbowed me, and I dropped into a small curtsy, suddenly remembering that this man was not only our prince but also my employer. While I didn’t put much stock in royalty, I didn’t want to lose my position.

I swore I saw a hint of a smile playing at the left corner of his mouth, but it quickly vanished.

“Enlightening,” he drawled. “Since your attention clearly isn’t on your current task, perhaps you could be the one to tell me why my guests are upstairs sitting at an empty table?”

That was it? The crown prince came down to the kitchens to complain that they didn’t have an appetizer? According to the clock above the chopping station, dinner didn’t even begin for another seven minutes.

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes, which would have been a catastrophically bad idea after that stupid display of insubordination, which I was already very much regretting.

“My deepest apologies, your Highness.” I forced my gaze downward in supplication.

“Yes, well, apologies aren’t nearly as useful as action, are they? Please see that they’re brought up now.”

Jacques, who was tasked with overseeing the food as it was carried to the main dining hall, lunged for the tray of appetizers, his torso stretching halfway across the room. The poor man looked as though he might faint at any second.

“Not you. Her.” The prince’s eyes hadn’t left my face.

I opened my mouth to protest that I wasn’t even on the cooking or serving staff, but thought better of it when Mellie stepped on my foot without an ounce of subtlety.

“Of course, your Highness. Right away, your Highness,” she answered for me.

“Good.” Turning towards the stairs, he was gone without another word.

“Nice job, Quinny,” Serena said, arching a blonde brow. “I was wondering how long it would take you to get yourself thrown out of here, but this surpasses my expectations.”

Ignoring her, I turned to Mellie. “What in the hells was that? What should I do?”

Mellie wiped her hands on her apron, glancing around the kitchen to make sure no one could hear us. “I have no idea, Dumpling. I’ve never seen him down here before. The only thing to do now is follow his orders and keep your head down. The prince has no idea about our arrangement, and if we’d both like to keep our jobs we need to make sure he doesn’t suspect anything. You just earned yourself a lot of attention that you shouldn’t have,” she reproached.

“He doesn’t know?” I asked, incredulous. “Aren’t you afraid someone else is going to tell him? Serena would be thrilled to get me fired.”

“No, he doesn’t, and he’s not going to find out. He never comes down here and I doubt he’s ever spoken to Serena.”

Shoving the tray of miniature quiches into my hands hastily, she warned, “Just go up, hand this to one of the staff, curtsy, and come straight back down. Don’t say a word.”

I grabbed the tray with shaking hands, fear finally catching up to me after my ill-advised show of temper, and willed my feet to move toward the door.

“Quinn.” Mellie stopped me. “You know I love you. But now is not the time to let that temper of yours get the best of you.”

I nodded mutely and began my trek up the stairs, mentally kicking myself.

What had I been thinking? I just mouthed off to the crown prince for the gods’ sakes. Taking the bait from my mother was one thing, but this was a whole new level of idiocy. Mellie had risked so much for me to be here, and it had only taken me one interaction to ruin her efforts.

Why hadn’t I just held my tongue? Something about the man, his aloof haughtiness, sparked defiance in me. Perhaps it reminded me of my mother and I was doomed to spend my life pointlessly trying to wriggle out from under the thumb of authority.

Determined to complete my task without incident, I used my back to push open the door of the dining room and turned to step inside.

Once again, I found myself in an eerily silent room. About twenty well-dressed young women sat listening with rapt attention to an older gentleman standing at the head of the table. A target painted on the northeast wall caught my eye. It seemed a strange addition to the royal dining hall.

A miniature cloud appeared over the table at the man’s command, dropping a light snowfall that dissipated just before it reached the dinner guests. The room broke into polite applause. A Wielder, then.

Keeping my footsteps as light as possible, I tiptoed toward the waitstaff lining the walls, praying no one would notice me amidst his speech. Once I’d handed another staff member the tray of quiches, I began to creep back towards the service door.

As I moved, the cloud started to darken and crackle. With a flick of his wrist, the man sent shards of ice flying into the center ring of the target with a loud thwack . My eyes widened as a life-sized figure of ice crystallized in front of the target and pulled the shards out with a frigid hand.

I barely contained my gasp; a Gift that powerful was unheard of. This wasn’t a simple cantrip to draw attention to a stall in the village square. This was a powerful spell. The amount of magical energy it must have taken . . . it was unbelievable.

The Wielder spoke to the assembled party. “In the Old Days, magic was abundant in this kingdom. Since the war with Falerin, much of our resources have gone to holding the wards, and Gifts have dwindled to an ember of what they once were. However, I can assure you that you will find your abilities far more powerful within these walls thanks to the special efforts of Queen Evalina.”

What? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The vast majority of Wielders in Enorias had no idea that casting that strongly was possible anymore. Hoarding this magic within the castle was selfishness on a level I had never even considered. If the Crown was willing to keep this power even from their fellow Wielders, what must they be keeping from Mundanes like me? I looked around the room to see if anyone else was as shocked as I was.

The prince sat at the other head of the table, seemingly unfazed by the Wielder’s show of power.

“It is now time to strengthen the Rial line once more by choosing a bride for our own Prince Evander,” the man continued. “In order to strengthen our great land, we have devised a series of tests to determine which contestants possess the appropriate magical skills and how strong they may be for each of you.” He nodded at the contestants. “Three trials have been designed to determine which of you will make the most suitable bride for our crown prince. It is Queen Evalina’s wish that she see him wed by the end of the year, so each task will be spaced one month apart, concluding at the Winter Solstice with a royal wedding.

“Participation is, of course, elective. For those who choose to continue, a word of warning:

“These events will test not only your magic, but your resourcefulness, preparation, and cunning, so I encourage you all to spend as much time working on your Gifts as possible. The first task will take place tomorrow morning and is designed to test whether you possess an appropriate affinity for the magical arts. No details will be given before the remaining trials, and you must be ready for anything.”

The room broke into applause once more. Their adulation was punctuated with bursts of magic, colorful flowers springing up from one young woman's plate as a flock of songbirds circled the head of another. It seemed some of the ladies were already showing off.

I could feel my face heating in indignation as I blinked hard, trying to see how these vile people could feel justified in their actions. A firm hand encircled my arm and pulled me back towards the door, bringing me back to reality.

“Quinn,” Mellie hissed, “We need to GO.”

Panting in the stairwell, I put my hands on the narrow passageway walls to steady myself.

“What was that? ”

Mellie caught up to me, closing the door behind us, and rubbed a hand over her eyes wearily.

“Come with me,” she said, and swept by me towards the servants’ quarters without another word.

. . .

As soon as the lock on Mellie’s door clicked into place, I rounded on her.

“Mellie, did you know?”

My oldest friend in the world shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my eyes as she stared at the ceiling. I waited, but she gave no answer. The walls of the room seemed to close in as I grappled with the weight of the deception I had just uncovered. Not just from the Crown, but from Mellie as well. She had always felt like the healthy mother figure I’d never had, and the idea that she might be hiding her true self from me was too much to process.

“How can you possibly be all right with this?” I asked her. “These wicked people have been lying to everyone. ”

“You weren’t meant to hear any of that,” she started.

“Unbelievable! I never thought I’d agree with my mother, but she’s right. The royals are evil. ” My voice sounded much too high, even to my own ears.

Mellie frowned; not the reaction I would have expected. Her quiet discomfort was enough to give me a second of pause as she began to explain.

“Deep breaths, Dumpling. As I said before, there are a lot of things about the castle you don’t know yet. Things that I’m not at liberty to tell you. The queen–” she paused, choosing her words with care.

“The queen and I have known each other for many years. Trust me when I tell you that I wouldn’t have asked you to come and work for a monster. There are larger things at play here.”

I scoffed. “Oh, I’m sure she’s told you a very convincing excuse about why they’re keeping all this power to themselves, but I’m not about to be so easily fooled.” Mundane or Wielder, I wouldn’t let anyone stay in the dark about what was being held from them. “The people deserve the truth, and I’m going to give it to them.”

Mellie paled. “You absolutely will not. Quinn, you can’t just decide you want to be a vigilante without fully understanding the situation. Do you know the kind of unrest that would cause? You have no idea–”

“So tell me!” I shot back. “Tell what could possibly justify something like this, I beg you.” My face burned with righteous indignation.

Mellie sighed. “Evalina is my friend, and she’s a good woman. I don’t want to keep you in the dark, Quinny, but I can’t betray her confidence either. Let me find a way to help you understand. Give me a few days.” Her pleading look cooled my temper an almost imperceptible amount, but it was enough.

Though I wanted to storm out, I couldn’t turn off the tiny, rational part of my brain that reminded me that in nine years of friendship, Mellie had never betrayed my trust. There were so many things I had asked of her and so many of my secrets she had kept. If anyone deserved the benefit of the doubt, it was her.

“Fine.” I snapped. Hurt flashed in her eyes and my tone softened. “This isn’t like you, Mellie. You’re a good, selfless person. I don’t understand why you would be complicit in something like this.”

“I haven’t changed, Dumpling,” Mellie said, and I could tell from the earnest look in her caramel eyes that she meant it. “Just let me figure out a way to help you understand without betraying my friend’s trust.”

Tears clouded my vision, though I wasn’t entirely sure why I was crying.

“Oh, Quinny,” she sighed, taking my hand in hers and patting it gently. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? This must be overwhelming for you and I’m sure you need some time to yourself. Just promise me you won’t repeat any of what you learned today.”

Against my better judgment, I promised, “I won’t.”