The castle ran with a skeletal staff. The only place I ever saw people was the kitchens, where baskets of goods were deposited, deals bartered for, and tailored clothes left. No one ever ventured further, so, if gossip were to be found, that would be where.
The slate floor in the kitchens had been swept and cleaned, a faint twang of polish masking the ever-present rose essence. The chef kneaded dough in the center, small flakes of flour spinning in the air around her.
I sidled up to the table. “Do you have any of those meat pies to spare? Lady Lilyanna would like to keep some close by so that I don’t have to keep shirking my other duties and running down here multiple times a day. They're her absolute favorite, she swears they’re the finest in the queendom.”
The chef continued to work the dough, slapping it upon the wooden table. Her brow beaded with sweat; her plump cheeks flushed. “You mean you don’t want to have to keep running down here bothering me, aye lassie.”
I ran my finger through a trail of flour leaving a deep slash. “You know me so well.”
She harumphed, flipping the dough and continuing her unbroken rhythm.
Nails scrabbled faintly across the ceiling, the hair on my arms rising as a chill whispered past. In the corner of the room, spots of ash dribbled down the walls and formed into a tumorous mound on the floor.
“She tells me they are a favorite of some of the locals,” I said. “But no one else can replicate them without using magic. Is there a lot of magic in town?”
“Tam!”
I froze, my spine erect, muscles seizing.
“If it isn’t you again.” The prince strode inside the kitchens, mimicking my position across the table with one hand resting on the wood. Only mine was clawed into a fist and his rested delicately in the white dregs of flour.
“Wants some of the small pies, Your Highness.” The chef kept her eyes on her work, the dough slapping and squelching as her knuckles drilled into it.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Tam. I should’ve told you,” the prince said.
Clement moved to stand by my shoulder, his hand resting featherlight upon the small of my back. His presence seeped into me, a foreign calm battling against the burning irritation. Didn’t either of them have better things to do?
The pile of ash in the corner dispersed as if it had never fallen.
“I’ve had to request that all my staff turn their attention to the upcoming wedding feast. So, there will be nothing going spare for the next week or so.” He dragged his forefinger through the flour dust and winked at me before licking the tip clean.
Clement’s hand pressed firmer against my back, but my nails unsheathed. Without warning the magic surged, unwilling to be placid any longer and latched onto my irritation.
“However, you are always welcome to dine with me.” The prince pushed off from the table and headed toward the corridor. “Alone, if you want.” His lips curved. Spots of white flour embedded into the cracks like pus.
“You’re breaking my table, lassie,” the chef chided. She swatted at me, and I declawed my hand, leaving behind deep gouges in the wood.
Clement shot me a look before he left. Did he know what I was looking for? He could have warned the prince and orchestrated this little coincidental trip. But no, he usually found me alone to keep his warnings private.
The castle might know. I eyed the corner which sparkled, ash-free in mockery.
But it wouldn’t stop me.
I couldn’t get out again until that evening.
I’d spent the remainder of the day watching the sun sink painfully slow and planning my next move. I wanted to find out where the woman was being held. If she had blood magic, even traces, I needed to know what they were doing with her and why. Something or someone in this castle was involved and it wouldn’t be long before they came for me.
“Lilyanna, get your cloak. We're going for a nighttime stroll.”
She clutched the thick woolen material to her chest and grimaced. “Why?”
I groaned and took the cloak from her, flapping it around her shoulders and cinching it tight. “The prince mentioned something about seeing the stars. He said it’s rarely clear here in winter and tonight there are no clouds.” I pushed her toward the door. “And something about wishing on a star, or equally stupid, I wasn’t really listening.”
“The wishing star!” She bounced out the door immediately peppy. “Tam, you know what that means, right?”
A flutter of guilt skimmed through my veins. “No, tell me.”
She looped her arm through mine. “Oh, I will.”
