When I wake up, I'm alone in Bianca's small room, though the smell of her still lingers in the air, the soft warmth of freshly baked bread with a hint of sharp spice. It's dark except for a thin line of light coming in from under the doorway, and I can hear voices and the scrapes and clangs of cooking coming from the kitchen on the other side. For some reason, these sounds practically lull me back to sleep, where even the softest whisper back at camp is enough to jolt me wide awake. For the first time in weeks, I slept without being plagued by vivid dreams of monsters and prophecies.
I groggily push myself up, and notice a scrap of paper falls down the blanket as I do. I grab it, and go to slip it into my empty pocket so I can look at it somewhere more brightly lit, but when I do, my fingers brush against something warm and furred. I jerk my hand away with a gasp when I feel it move.
I hear a small squeak. The pixie from the night before pokes its head sheepishly out of the folds of my skirt.
"You!" I hiss. "I told you I want to be left alone!"
"Don't bother lady, no," the pixie chirps, flying up to hover before my face. "I hide!"
"Hiding in my pocket does bother me," I say. "How long have you been there?"
The pixie makes a shrug-like gesture. "Sleeping?" it says ambiguously.
I pace in a tight circle, giving a little huff. I want to shoo the creature away again, but who knows what mischief it will get into within the palace. "Fine!" I say, after a moment. "I don't know what to do with you, so go back in there and stay hidden."
The pixie beams at me before diving back into my pocket, twittering in a way that sounds almost like a tiny bell and trailing tiny tufts of glowing blue substance like dandelion fluff.
I pause before venturing out into the kitchen, looking back at the little tent around Bianca's mattress. Just a season ago I stumbled in here during the darkness of the night, whispering confessions of magic and then stealing them back again, terrified of what I'd just admitted to. But it was not my gift that had ended up dooming us, as I'd so feared. In the end, it was the only reason any of us survived. Aurelius, Aisling... They now look to me for protection and guidance. And Ezebel...
How quickly things have changed. I straighten, lifting my chin as though to brush off the heavy memories. No one looks my way when I step into the morning light of the kitchen. It's later than I thought, based on the sunlight streaming through the windows. After softly closing the door, I glance down at the slip of paper crumpled in my other fist. "Had to run an errand, but I left you something sweet on the back counter! Kisses, Bee."
I wind my way through the kitchen maids bustling about, careful to avoid someone with a teetering pot of boiling water, ducking out of range of a large wooden spoon someone waves aggressively in emphasis of the latest court gossip. I hear more mention of faeries than ever before. Children's stories have come alive in the palace. They're real and they're dangerous. They poisoned the queen; who knows what's next? People are afraid, but everyone's more brave when bathed in the bright glow of morning sunlight, and I hear a note of excitement in their tale-telling.
I search for what Bianca left for me, and eventually I see it pushed to the back of the farthest counter. Behind the mounds of dough put aside to rise is a small bundle wrapped in a napkin and tied with string. Beside it is a note with handwriting that matches the one in my hand: "For Bianca's favorite. Don't touch!"
I step into a shadowy corner of the room to untie the present. Biscuits, still slightly warm from the oven, dripping with gooey chocolate. I breathe in their sweet smell, smiling. There is nothing better than chocolate. I take a tiny bite, catching the crumbs in the napkin as best I can.
