The Crown Prophecy

Chapter 8

“E xcuse me, Quinn, can you please pass the butter?”

James gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up from across the room as Serena uttered what might be the first polite sentence she had ever directed toward me.

I rolled my eyes but smiled, completing her request and returning to the lemon meringue cookies I was preparing for dessert tonight.

After dusting the hardened peaks with a bit of powdered sugar to add aesthetic flair to the dish, I changed into a clean apron and headed upstairs for my serving shift in the ballroom.

As soon as I entered the room, Colette hurried up to me, eyes still full of worry.

“Did you find out what happened?” she asked.

I froze. In my concern for Evander, I had completely forgotten about my promise. Surely if the contestants were in danger of having their power drained, he would give them the chance to leave, wouldn’t he? It wasn’t my place to reveal that information. Not yet.

“They have a lead on something and they’re working on it,” I promised, “but I can’t say much more than that.”

Colette looked as if she were going to push harder, but before she got the chance, the doors swung open and Evander entered the room, distracting her.

First he greeted Lucy, who was practically slack-jawed at his appearance. He made his way around the room with a confident stride, listening as the Wielders told him what they were working on and smiling that dazzling grin at them. A dull ache in my hands altered me to the fact that I was gripping my serving spoons tight enough to leave marks on my palms.

I forced myself to look away. This was good. This was exactly what he needed to be doing.

When I glanced up again, Evander had made it to where Vanessa was leaning against the wall and slung his arm around her shoulders goodnaturedly. Freya glared at them from across the room with a vitriol so intense I was surprised Vanessa’s clothing hadn’t caught fire. I waited for the ugly jealousy to hit me again, but the way he touched her looked casual, even familial. If Vanessa had lived in the castle for most of her life, they had probably grown up together.

When she swatted him away from both her and Colette, he crossed the room to speak to Anissa, the light-Wielder. She batted her eyelashes at him in a way that made me recall his comment in the stairwell. I could practically see her mentally calculating the size of the tiara she would need. She leaned in closer and put a hand on his arm, right over his bicep. Evander smiled, putting his hand on the small of her back, and I swore the lamps glowed a little brighter.

I dropped the spoons.

The clatter as they hit the floor drew Evander’s attention, and his eyes met mine, widening in shock for a moment before he schooled his features into the mask of composure he wore so often.

I turned my focus to Colette, who was now creating climbable bougainvillea vines on the ballroom wall, and didn’t dare look up again until he left. Before I even heard the doors open, I felt his presence grow more distant, as if some of the warmth had leached from the room.

As soon as the doors shut, Vanessa strode up to me, crossed her arms, and looked at me expectantly.

“What was that?”

“The prince, I believe,” I quipped. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with her sour behavior. Even after several weeks, she still looked at me with a challenge in her eyes, like she was sizing up an opponent. The last thing I needed was for her to think that I was part of this competition.

“Don’t bullshit me,” she snapped. “I could see you clenching your jaw from across the room. You know him.”

“Well, he is my employer,” I said dryly.

Vanessa narrowed her eyes at me.

“I’ve known Evander since we were children, and he’s never been flustered by a servant that way.”

“Don’t you have some training to do?” I asked, ignoring her interrogation.

“You cannot mess with this competition, Quinn. Let it be.” She leveled her gaze at me and fire blazed in her amber eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Unconvinced, she turned on her heel and stalked away.

. . .

That night I asked Serena to take Evander’s tray to his quarters. To my surprise, she didn’t even argue with me, and I got some desperately needed space.

In exchange, I was tasked with taking dinner up to a Wielder on the third floor who was feeling “under the weather” and would be dining in her rooms. I wondered if she had lost her magic, too.

On the third flight of stairs, as if summoned by my thoughts of him, I came face to face with Evander.

Deja vu.

“You didn’t come tonight.” He glowered down at me, unsettled.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” I joked, trying to break the tension already building in the stairwell.

Ignoring the forced attempt at casual conversation, Evander tried again. “Why didn’t you come?”

“I sent Serena with your tray,” I explained. “It should be there any minute.” With that, I tried to sidle past him, but he squared himself up on the steps, blocking my way.

“I wasn’t asking about the food.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. No. This wasn’t fair to either of us. Wasn’t fair to me.

“I know you had a busy day ,” I said, hating the snide edge that slipped into my voice, “so I assumed you’d had enough female company for the day.”

“Is that what this is about? My visit to the contestants?” He barked a laugh that made my chest seize up in anger.

“Of course not.” I straightened my spine and forced myself to make eye contact. “I was the one who told you to spend time with them. And it isn’t my business.” I tried again to make it past him, but he took a step down, backing me into the curved wall and caging me in by leaning on it with one forearm.

We were close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. He smelled like parchment and ink and leather and . . . whisky? Had he been drinking?

“It didn’t bother you at all?” he challenged, fire in his eyes. “Because it bothered me. It bothered me that there was only one person in that room I wanted to talk to, but I was stuck making small talk with half a dozen other women I wouldn’t look at twice if it weren’t for their casting abilities. I hated it. Didn’t you?” His eyes bored holes into mine as he challenged me to admit something that I shouldn’t. Couldn’t.

“No,” I breathed, willing myself not to shake.

“Interesting,” he purred, pushing off the wall as if this were a game of cat and mouse.

“Glad to have entertained you.” Finding myself again in my anger, I shoved past him, stomping up the stairs like a petulant child.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous,” his voice came from behind me.

I stilled. We couldn’t go there. Especially when an ugly part of me whispered that he was right.

“Go drink some water, Evander,” I said, still not turning around.

“I like the way you say my name.” I dared a glance back and saw him sitting on the steps, eyes closed as he leaned against the wall, one corner of his mouth pulled into a smile. Setting my jaw, I pushed the image out of my mind.

“Goodnight.”

I continued up the stairs and returned to my job. I only hoped he would do the same.

. . .

I’d barely begun the process of kneading my dough before Mellie pulled me aside, a concerned frown on her face.

“What’s wrong, Quinny?”

“Nothing,” I snapped.

“It looked like you were picturing someone’s face on that dough,” she observed with a raised brow. “Is Serena giving you trouble again? Because I’ve already warned her-”

“No. Everything is fine. I’m just going to finish this up and head home.”

It was obvious she didn’t believe me, but cornering me into talking about my feelings had never worked before so, to her credit, she gave me some space. I felt like an angry teenager again, hiding things from my mother.

When the rage softened and I could think a bit more clearly, I felt bad for taking my frustration out on my dearest friend.

Before I headed home, I made sure to give her a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

“Sorry, Mels. It’s not you.”

“I know, Dumpling. But who is it?”

“Nobody,” I sighed, and I wasn’t lying. Nobody but myself. I needed to get a hold of my emotions. My anger, yes, but also the other ones. The ones I didn’t have words for and absolutely did not want to talk about.

I slipped out the kitchen side door, pulling my cloak around me to ward off the autumn chill as I headed home. As much as I tried to ignore it, a part of my mind lingered in that stairwell, wondering what would’ve happened if I had stayed.