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They finish with, “If you ever cross him, well, he’s a true nightmare.”
twenty-four
I Am the Girl Who Fights
Alessia
I am reeling after all the revelations Das Celyn gifted me with. About them. About Fern. About Rainer.
Maybe I fit in here better than I could’ve ever expected. And I wasn’t wrong about everyone carrying their own trauma.
Das Celyn leads me downstairs. The purple ruffled skirts swish around my ankles, and the bell sleeves billow around my arms obnoxiously. With its sweetheart neckline, the dress is much more revealing than I’m used to, showing my collarbones and upper chest area. But with the excess of tulle and layered skirts, its smothering me.
My hair wraps tightly around my head in a sort-of braided crown, and already it’s giving me a headache.
“I look ridiculous,” I whisper to Das Celyn.
“You look clean for once,” they hiss back.
We pass by the kitchen, and Das Celyn spots a few servants struggling to balance trays with a plethora of foods.
“For fae’s sake,” they mutter.
“What is it?”
“I step away for an hour to help you get ready and they fall behind.”
The kitchen is much busier today, with every surface covered with food. Smoky scents fill the air, dancing with the lighter, sweeter scents of desserts. About a dozen fae run around, manning the various ovens and stacking fancy trays high with artful designs of fruits, baked goods, cheese, and meats.
“We got hands, Benjo,” Das Celyn calls out to a flustered male who’s barking orders around the room. There’s no animosity in their voice, just acknowledgement. Turning to me, they say, “Grab a tray.”
I try to ignore it, swallowing the lump in my throat. “What exactly is going on today?”
“The prince is hosting an important brunch between courts today.” Das Celyn sighs. “I have much work to do, so if you’re done with the irrelevant questions, let’s move before Benjo puts us on slop duty. Grab a tray, bring it to the formal dining room, and get your scrawny buns back here and do it all again.”
Slop duty doesn’t sound like something I want to familiarize myself with, so I follow their lead.
Das Celyn grabs a tray right before one of the servants almost drops it. “Take this.”
They thrust the silver tray hosting a pyramid of chocolate-glazed doughnuts at me, and I quickly accept it, careful not to let the pastries lose their balance.
“You want me to… serve this?”
They narrow their eyes at me. “What? You’ve been upgraded to training with the shifters and now kitchen work is beneath you?”
“No it’s not that. I just—” I glance down at my fancy dress, confused. Lowering my voice, I whisper, “Why am I dressed like this?”
“It’s customary to dress up when serving royalty.”
My nose scrunches. I’ve never seen anyone dress up to serve Rainer. “I didn’t get the impression—”
“Stop gabbing and let’s go. We need to drop these off and get back here. Clearly the kitchen is struggling without me.”
I don’t miss the flicker of pride crossing their face at the thought of being needed.
We carry our trays down the hallway. I take it slow, careful not to let the doughnuts topple over. A few faeries pass, carrying a variety of trays and plates and pitchers, but none are dressed as elaborately as me.
My stomach pitches.
