Sonya felt horrible. ‘We were friends—weare, still, if you’ll have me,’ Sonya replied, and Elspeth looked up at her. ‘Elspeth, you were the first friend I ever knew.’
Elspeth smiled a little at that. ‘If you had told me what you wished, we could have come up with a better plan together.’
She was right. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re forgiven,’ Elspeth said, smiling. There was that old spark in her eyes. Sonya let out a relieved breath. ‘Anyway, you got me my job back, so there’s nothing left to be cross about, really. Wherewereyou, anyway? That stitch-witch was meant to be tracking you down, but he took a mighty long time.’
The mention of Azam felt like a knife between her ribs. Before she could answer Elspeth’s question, there was knocking on the door.
‘Sonya, please open the door before these guards break it.’ It was Mustafa.
She opened the door of the closet to reveal a handful of guards standing behind Mustafa, ready to break in. Mustafa gave her an incensed look, the ones reserved by elder brothers for their younger sisters. ‘You’re meant to be behaving,’ he said pointedly, but he wasn’t the only one who was vexed.
Sonya glared at her brother. Elspeth ushered the guards and othermaids away, giving Sonya and Mustafa privacy. ‘I’m tired of behaving,’ Sonya replied, stalking past him to head into her room. She sat down at her vanity, pulling pins out of her hair.
Mustafa trailed after her, looking confused. She undid the twists and braids in her hair, letting it all fall down. The tension in her scalp eased, but she still felt pulled taut, on the verge of snapping.
Mustafa came to stand in front of her, and she felt his gaze analyzing her. She could almost feel him thinking.
‘I don’t understand,’ he finally said, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle. He rested a hand on the vanity table, and she saw the ink stains on his fingers. They were always there, but she hadn’t seen them these past weeks while she’d been away.
For some reason, the sight now made her irritation evaporate. She was angry with all of them, but she had missed them, too, and she didn’t know how to stay angry.
Sonya glanced up at her brother to find that he seemed equally conflicted: upset that she had left, but happy she had returned.
He sighed. ‘Can we stop being angry with each other now? I missed you.’
Her eyes welled up with tears as she nodded. ‘I missed you, too.’ Then the tears fell.
‘Oh!’ He pulled her up into a hug, and she held on to him tightly. ‘What is it?’
How could she tell him? About Azam, how she had fallen in love only to be deceived?
Mustafa rubbed her back. ‘There, there, all will be well.’ She pulled away, sniffling, and he gave her a smile. ‘Princesses always get their happy endings, don’t they? I’m a writer. I know these things.’
She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. Azam had told her a story about a princess, once, but she couldn’t recall the ending.
‘Were you all terribly worried?’ she asked.
Mustafa looked away, then nodded. ‘And hurt, too. Whydidyou run away? Is it the tourney? No one would have forced you, Sonya. The suitors are all good men. You’ll be safe and taken care of.’
‘It was all too much,’ she said. ‘I just…I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to fall in love on my own.’
But now she saw just how foolish that was.
‘You can still fall in love, silly girl. You have three handsome, well-bred suitors vying for your affection and your affection alone. One of them may yet be the great love of your life.’
She doubted it. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘And I am sorry for making you all worry.’
‘I’m sorry, too,’ Mustafa replied. ‘I wish I had known how you felt.’ He hesitated. ‘From now on, will you tell me if things are too much? I will stand by you.’
That made her smile. She nodded, and they walked out of her room together. She left the youngest brother and went down to the kitchen. There, the kitchen-witches were busy with preparations for dinner, two boys chopping vegetables while another two stood by the stove, stirring. Sonya inhaled the familiar scent of browning onions and garlic as her eyes searched for one kitchen-witch in particular.
And then she saw her, coming in from the garden door, hand clutching a bunch of rosemary. Arabella’s dark hair was tied up in a twist, messy as ever, and there was a streak of flour across her brow. The familiar sight of her made Sonya’s heart warm.
But when Arabella glanced up, she froze the moment she spotted Sonya across the kitchen. Before Sonya could say anything, Arabella’s voice cut through the room: ‘Everyone out,’ she demanded. The kitchen-witches hesitated, and Arabella raised her voice. ‘Out!’
They cleared the kitchen, leaving Sonya and Arabella alone.Onions sizzled on the stove, undercutting the silence that stretched between them.
