So once I hear Lydia’s commanding voice from somewhere down the corridor, I veer right and make the journey towards the window seat I occupy when wanting to avoid duties. I’ve just folded my legs beneath me when apingcomes from my phone.
Percy
bruh, I can’t with my mother’s fucking wifi fr.
Dear God, she’s alive.
Chess
how’s it going over there?
Percy
i messaged to ask you that. tryna process the fact that you signed up for round two of this test
did what you asked tho. bertie dropped off another one of nanna’s journal, lots of notes on how g-spot was v beloved by his servants.
nothing about that night w cillian.
Chess
urgh, haven’t dreamt about the man in the lake again despite wearing the locket
thought i could access more of his memories like that. feels like cillian’s tooth all over again; memory might be broken
but g-spot practically hinted at adelina’s death, like he wanted me to know im missing parts
Percy
still pissed that you touch a bracelet and see purgatory while i look at a dog and burst into tears bc i can taste how badly it wants a bone
sure, our abilities are totally balanced
msg if anything feels cursed-er than usual
also, how’s it going with the prince???
The tasting procession continues, led by Pascoe, who helps balance a five-tier red velvet cake. The gag is reflex, and I slip from my seat before he can spot me. I apologise to the footman I nearly crash into, ignoring the way Percy is spamming my phone. One misstep, and my knee collides with a trolley, pullinganother wave of apologies from me as I flatten myself against the wall to let them pass.
Pascoe looks over, but as soon as the road is clear, I take off in a brisk walk.‘Walk’because Gran always says the ghosts hate when we run inside, something about remembering how they ran before they were inevitably caught. I believe her.Even now, the floors listen for that panic, but I don’t risk feeding them. Once I’m no longer caught up in the traffic of cake tasting, my phone violently vibrates in my hand.
A video call request from Percy.
I swipe the green icon, and her face momentarily appears upside down before she rights it with a sigh. She’s wriggling around, and the phone drops once, and I’m flat on the floor until she picks me up again. There’s a faint squeaking noise in the background that sounds like Aunt Edith calling her name.
“Fucking hell,” she mumbles, shoving bright pink tulle away from her mouth. Her mascara is smudged, and there’s a red tinge to her eyes, one I don’t comment on despite already knowing who caused it. “You picked up!”
“You expected me not to?”
She burrows deeper into her hideout, peeking out in the gap between two dresses before returning her attention to me. “How should I have known? You’ve got Prince Rebel holed up with you in a haunted castle. I wouldn’t have picked up.”
I almost laugh at her deadpan tone but settle for the words I’ve been cradling since she left. “God, I miss you.”
More cakes go sailing past on silver trays. “I miss you too, counting down the days until our birthday.” She squints at the wall behind me. “Oi, what are you doing in the tapestry corridor? Thought you said those eyes watch you.”
“I’m hiding from buttercream.”
Her grin lights up her face, but something hides in the curve of it. “Trade places? I’ll taste cake, and you can be my mum’s doll whilst she lists out your flaws in alphabetical order.”
