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She laughs and shakes her head before pointing at a pile of potatoes and a knife.
I roll my eyes but know that helping the cook means getting leftovers, so I start peeling.
“How’s your grandmother?”
That was Cook. She never beats around the bush. “She’s doing really well. Considering. She cooks. She cleans, and she’s figured her way around the house and garden.”
She puts a spoon in a pot, then takes a sample of it. Her nose wrinkles, and she adds more spices. “Glad to hear it. I miss Hazel. She’s one of the good ones.”
I wonder if the prince remembers that. I wonder if he remembers that my grandmother was more of a mother to him than his own. That she was the one he went to when he was hurt or sad. That it was her warm arms that held him when he cried.
Who knows if he even knew what became of his old tutor, or if his pampered life erased all the little people that helped him along the way?
The fact that the prince and his family threw my grandmother away like that pisses me off the most, but the truth is that I’m also hurt about losing my relationship with him. We used to study together, laugh together, and play together. We were friends. But maybe I was the only one who saw him that way.
I bet my grandmother, and I have been erased. I bet the moment he saw me today, he only saw my uniform. A faceless uniform, because real connections mean nothing to the fae. All they care about are their riches, their clothes, and having fun.
It makes me angry, even though it shouldn’t.
“How’s your father doing?” Winifred asks me, drawing me from my dark thoughts. She’s moved to the counter to chop some peppers for a dish she’s preparing. Meat is sizzling in a large pan on the stove. I don’t know what she’s making, but it smells amazing.
There are two things I know I’ll get from Winifred at any given moment: delicious food and empathy. She’s the kindest person in this palace, and she’s really taken me under her wing since I’ve been working here. My solace when I’m at work is wherever Winifred is.
“He’s getting stronger. It’s just happening so slowly,” I huff. The image of my weakened father laying in bed flashes in my mind, breaking my heart for the thousandth time.
“Slow is better than not at all, Cassia. Be grateful.” Sweat glistens on her dark brown skin, and I wonder how she manages to stay in here all day with all the fires burning to prepare the palace meals.
I understand her sentiment, but the fae potions to help him regain the use of his legs take more than half of my pay. As the only person bringing money into our home, that hurts a lot, yet I can’t stop buying them. It took us forever to find someone who knew how to make the potion. I haggled the price down as much as I could. When the fae healer threatened to toss out the potion completely over my bargaining, I accepted the price she gave me and went on my way.
I wonder if she added an extra spell to make it work slowly. Fae can be assholes like that.
“I’m grateful. At least I’m trying to be. He took a few steps yesterday. We couldn’t believe it. No one thought he’d ever regain enough strength to stand, much less walk.” I smile.
Dad pushed so hard yesterday. I wanted him to sit down and rest, to not overexert himself, but his determination won out. The way his face lit up as he put one foot in front of the other and walked around our tiny kitchen table will be ingrained in my memory forever.
Winifred reaches out to me and slides a lock of my hair behind my ear. She holds her hand on my cheek and looks into my eyes. “You’re so young. Too young to have all of these responsibilities. First, you lost your mom, then your father lost his ability to walk, and then your grandma lost her sight. All of this is not on you.” She drops her hand and looks away from me. “At least it shouldn't be. You’re doing a great job. I bet no one’s told you that, so I wanted to.”
I take a deep breath, trying to fight the tears threatening to fall, then peel the potato in my hand more aggressively to distract myself. “Thanks.”
What more can I say? That I screw up on a daily basis and will probably ruin my family with my stupidity? That I really hope that she doesn’t regret her faith in me one day?
A server drops a tray on the counter beside me. It’s mostly untouched, so I know the servant will bring it around again in a little while. The tray is covered in bite-sized pastries that look like fluffy bites of pure yumminess. Yumminess, whipped cream, and chocolate.
My mouth starts to water, and my stomach grumbles.
To my surprise, Winifred carefully removes a pastry and shifts the others to make sure no one notices it’s missing one. Leaning in, she shoves the pastry into my hand and whispers, “A little bite for you. Something to sweeten up your day. Hurry up and eat it, so you don’t get caught.”
I shove the small treat into my mouth. My eyes close as I chew the pastry, trying to enjoy every bite. The texture and flavor are divine. The pastry doesn’t just have chocolate in it, but chunks of strawberries, too. I haven’t had fruit in months. The flavor of the strawberries lingers on my tongue. My grumbling stomach interrupts my perfect moment. One pastry isn’t enough to calm the angry sea that is my empty stomach.
Winifred hears my roaring stomach and laughs, wiping her hands on the front of her apron.
“Let’s get you something more substantial. We’re all going to be very busy this week. You need some fuel.” She leads me to the staff porridge pot. I stop short of gagging at the sight of it. Porridge is the very last thing I want to eat, but it’s better than nothing, which is what we have at home.
Winifred uses the ladle and gives me a healthy serving. I take the bowl and do my best to look grateful as I tell her thank you. She gives my elbow a squeeze and heads back to her station. I lean against the wall and force down the porridge. Iamgrateful, but I wish I could take this home. There’s always a way for me to eat here. Food isn’t scarce. I just hate going home with a full stomach and seeing my father and grandmother withering away.
“Cassia!”
I turn and spot Beatrix darting around the kitchen staff and heading for my corner.
