Young Writers Society

Lark shivered in the freezing fog that hung about the castle moat, her skin bunching into thousands of little dots. She’d found an hour or so of free time and thought it best to take Cadence out to play, then ran into Waverly at some point. Lark didn’t know why, but the girl had followed her outside, chattering incessantly about this and that, and how Misty would love to swim in the moat. And worse, she had a real coat of which Lark could be jealous.

As the one-fifteen gong echoed through the air, the girls stopped talking to watch their dragons splash around in the murky water. Their scales glimmered like freshly washed dishes, and if it weren’t for the fog and temperature, someone might have mistaken the day for a summery one.

“You know, Iris and I were thinking, since we heard rumors about the housekeepers in the wing, that we could do a little something for you,” Waverly said suddenly. “You remember Iris, right? The girl from this morning? Well, anyways, we heard that somehow, all of the prior head housekeepers of the Academic wing had disappeared mysteriously. And we thought that maybe it was because of some great big secret, and they’d been in danger because of that, and that maybe you’d need something to help with whatever that might be.”

“Oh, um…” Lark didn’t know what to say, really. She didn’t like being reminded of her predecessors’ fates, and while it was sweet of the apprentices to care, she also wasn’t sure she wanted their help.

“So we decided to give you a nice knife.”

Lark blinked. Her gaze turned towards Waverly, wide and confused. A knife? Whatever for?

“It’s a good weapon you know, for last resort. We’re going with a kind of iron and ash mix that, for one reason or another, is very strong. And the handle is going to be covered in black leather and-”

“No. Stop.” Lark brought her hands up into a ‘halt’ gesture and averted her eyes from Waverly’s face. “I really appreciate that you’d do that for me, but I can’t be carrying a knife. I’m a maid. I clean and deliver and take orders. I don’t know what happened to the other heads, but I’m going to stay out of it as long as possible.” She said it confidently, exaggerated, as though she had decided on the verdict the moment she had an inkling about anything. Lark even surprised herself with the statement.

Looking out at the grey, lumpy clouds that covered the sky, Waverly sighed. It was an odd thing for her, what with the cheery first impression and all.

“You know,” she said, voice soft and airy, like a mystic or prophet, “you may not have a choice.”

A beat of silence passed, and the cold afternoon pressed on Lark’s body. Pressure, pressure, pressure. It was everywhere she looked, everywhere she went. She needed to say something, an agreement or an argument; it didn’t matter. Anything.

But she didn’t. Instead, hard, raspy breaths caught Lark and Waverly’s attentions, and they turned around to find one of the younger maids hunched over, hands on her knees. Her breath rose in steamy, tired clouds before she looked up at Lark.

“The assistant director needs you in the kitchens immediately.”

How odd. “Did she say which?”

“The middle ones,” the maid said, nodding. “Hurry, you need to be there now.”

Lark took a step forward. Wait a minute.

“What should I do with my dragon?”

For the shortest moment, the other maid’s eyes widened. “Your dragon is here? Uh, well, is there anyone you can leave her with?” She pointed at Waverly. “The alchemist, perhaps?”

In the corner of her eye, Lark saw Waverly move to say something, but the girl stopped, bit her lip, and looked at the dragons splashing in the moat. They were dripping with happiness, shaking off hundreds of droplets of the stuff. Too bad they had swum in too far for the drops to reach Lark.

“We only just met yesterday,” Waverly said. “I can’t look after Lark’s dragon.” She turned back to Lark, her golden curls flying with a little too much cheer. Her smile was too wide, her eyes so knowing.

Then Lark felt it, the same feeling she’d gotten from Dorian earlier that day. It was like Waverly was telling her to keep Cadence around. But why?

The maid looked around and rubbed her hands together. “I guess there’s no helping it. Let’s just go inside. Dragon too.”

As they beelined for the kitchens, Lark felt a surge of self-consciousness rise in her throat. Eyes watched from every direction, disapproving and jealous. She wasn’t supposed to have her dragon with her on duty; only housekeeping staff with doll or pygmy dragons could keep them around.

Yet the hurry was enough that when Lark met the assistant just outside the kitchens, there was no annoyed lecturing or yelling, only a mildly confused facial expression when Cadence stepped to Lark’s heel.

“Ah, good you’re here. Terribly sorry for the rush, but carry this, please.” Stepping aside, the assistant gestured towards a large, silver tray. Atop it was a delicate, spiraling, porcelain tea set, painted with pink flowers and green and gold accents. A faint trail of steam rose from the spout of a stout little teapot, and Lark could smell its flowery taste.

As Lark picked up the tray with trembling hands, the assistant sent the maid off to wherever other duties called. She ran a hand through her fiery hair and spun to face Lark.

“Well, you’re here now. Let’s get to the fifth guest room. That's where you'll be taking this tea to every day.”

As Lark and the assistant rushed over meters and meters of green carpet, the assistant gave further details. Urgency crept through her voice the way green tinged a sick person’s cheeks.

“There are very special instructions with this tea,” the assistant said. “Two spoons of sugar must be placed in the tea, which the occupant will do herself, but if she doesn’t, you must insist. I haven’t a clue why, but that’s the rule. If the occupant faints, alert one of the apprentices immediately.”

Lark nearly stumbled as they passed the painting of Ritter. “Why in the power of snap-dragons would a person faint while taking tea?” She stopped walking, and Cadence rubbed against her skirts as though Lark might fall over again.

“That’s something I’d like to know myself,” the assistant said, turning around. “Now come on; we’re going to be late.”

There were more instructions after that. Lark learned that she was to stay with the occupant of the fifth guest room until every drop of tea was gone. Conversation ought to happen, but it should veer away from anything Lark might consider serious. She needed to be courteous, extremely so, and discovered that the door was only to be opened for the medical apprentices, head doctor, or a member of the royal family.

When finally, all the rules had been covered, Lark and the assistant stood before the door to the fifth guest room. It was a nice door, made of dark cherry wood with polished brass handles. The other doors in this hallway were much more elaborate though; the first one had been carved with a relief of some elaborate magic ritual, and the second one’s door frame was decorated with elegant metal vines and leaves.

The assistant took a deep breath and patted Lark’s back. “I’m so sorry I forgot to tell you about this yesterday. Good luck,” she said, before spinning around and hurrying back to the lobby.

Lark stared after her, and then at Cadence. The dragon was acting strangely now; she had her tail curled tightly around her legs, and her wings and shoulders hunched inwards. Cadence never did that.

“I’ll be fine,” Lark said to herself. She forced herself to smile, and her eyes pretended to light with joy, and then she opened the door and stepped into the fifth guest room.

Lark hadn’t known what she might expect, but this wasn’t it. The guest room was almost as bare as her own, the only difference being the presence of a wooden chair and nightstand. The bed was a little nicer too, but only a smidge.

Even more surprising was the occupant herself. It was a little girl, probably ten, maybe older, since Lark knew what that too-taut skin and bony frame meant. Everything about her reminded Lark of herself at that age; the girl’s brown hair was matted, and her eyes wore purple-grey bags underneath. Her eyes, though a curious brown, held the slightest touch of green, as if the girl envied something in others, yet didn’t know what it was.

“Hello there,” Lark offered, waiting until Cadence entered before closing the door as quietly as possible.

The girl said nothing back, only shifted her gaze to Lark’s dragon.

“I’ve brought tea,” Lark said. She tried to hold her smile, she really did, but it was hard to do with Cadence sitting right there. She could frown, fuss over the little girl’s gaunt appearance; her dragon’s presence let her. Yet she couldn’t.

After setting the tray on the nightstand, Lark took a seat, immediately noticing how deceptively cheap the chair looked. It had been carved for comfort.

“So, uh, what’s your name, Miss?” Lark asked. She tried to smooth out her skirt, even knowing that it would take a good bit of pressing to make it lay flat again.

The little girl sniffled and began pouring her tea, her hands quivering, frail. Everything about her seemed blank, not quite there, like the newer maids who weren’t used to being without their dragons. Every ounce of her focus was put into the tea; it was a lifeline, something to hold on to.

When the teacup was full, the girl finally opened her mouth to speak. “I’m Reina.” That was it. Two words. She picked up a tiny silver spoon from the tray which Lark hadn’t noticed before and dipped it into a cup of sugar.

“That’s a nice name.”

The girl furrowed her brow, watching a spoonful of tiny white crystals shake out into her tea. “You think so?”

“Oh yes,” said Lark. “It’s got a nice ring to it.”

“My father doesn’t like it.” As she spoke, Reina’s face was entirely straight. There wasn’t even a glimmer of sadness in her eyes or a curve from an angry mouth. She dumped a second lump of sugar into her tea and stirred, the spoon scraping against the porcelain.

“That’s a shame.”

The scraping noise continued, and Cadence made a strange sort of ‘meep’ noise before scratching an ear with her foot. Then she stood up and walked to Reina’s bedside to stick her nose into the sheets. All the while, Reina just kept stirring and watching the dragon.

It got to the point where Lark thought the entire situation felt absolutely ridiculous. Reina stopped stirring at some point, which Lark’s ears were quite thankful for, and sipped her tea. Cadence just kept on poking about. It was like she was searching for something that she knew was there, but couldn’t find it.

The whole thing went on for thirty minutes, which Lark only knew because Reina set her teacup on the tray just as the chimes rang a jubilant melody for two o’ clock.

“I am finished,” the girl said, “thank you for your company.” Then, instead of staring at Cadence, she looked at Lark instead.

That was her cue. Standing up, Lark smiled at Reina and picked up the silver tray, the porcelain pieces rattling slightly. She whistled for Cadence and creaked open the door.

“Have a nice day, Reina.” And then she stepped through, Cadence following behind.

When the door was shut, Lark let out a long, slow breath. She looked at Cadence, who sat facing the door, her tail thumping on the ground in slow, thoughtful waves. She looked at the teacup, which held the faintest ring of light brown tea around the bottom. Something felt off.

For a long moment, Lark looked at the sugar bowl, studying the half-covered paintings of flowers and vines that lined its inside.

It dawned on her.

Reina had no dragon.