Vengeance Wears A Crown

One afternoon, while Adele was preparing their meal, Anna entered the room with excitement written all over her face.

"Mom."

Adele glanced at her. "Yes, Anna?"

"Do you remember the palace?"

The spoon in Adele's hand stopped moving. For a moment she said nothing. Then she turned slowly toward her daughter.

"Why are you asking me about the palace?"

Anna didn't notice the fear hidden behind her mother's voice.

"I heard they're looking for new maids."

Adele's face hardened instantly. "No."

"No?"

"I said no."

"But you haven't even heard what I wanted to say."

"I don't need to." Adele turned away and went back to the food.

Anna moved closer. "Mom, please. Just listen to me." When Adele stayed silent, she pressed on. "I've been looking for a job for a long time. If I get a position at the palace, I'll earn enough to take care of you. We won't have to struggle anymore."

Adele set the spoon down hard. "Anna." Her voice had gone stern. "Never mention that place again."

"But why?"

"Because I said so."

"But, Mom—"

"Anna!"

The name cracked through the little house, and Anna fell silent, staring at her mother, confused by the sudden anger.

Adele took a breath, visibly working to steady herself. "The palace is not a place for a girl like you."

"Why? What's wrong with working there?"

Adele looked at her for a long moment, and something surfaced in her eyes that Anna had never seen before.

Fear. Plain and unmistakable.

"You wouldn't understand," Adele finally said.

Anna folded her arms. "Then explain it to me."

"I told you — never go near that place."

"But why?"

"Because I know what happens there."

Anna's heart skipped. "What happens there?"

Adele didn't answer. She turned her back and returned to the dinner, and Anna was left staring at her, frustrated. She had never understood her mother's hatred of the palace. For years she'd dreamed of working there — imagined herself in the fine uniforms, walking its enormous halls, earning enough to change both their lives.

She had no idea that her mother's fear came from a past Adele had spent years trying to bury.

That Evening

Dinner was quieter than usual. Anna and Adele sat across from each other, the tension from earlier still hanging in the air. Anna wanted to ask more, but she knew better than to provoke her mother again.

Then, without warning —

"Ah — ah — ah!"

Adele doubled over, coughing violently. The spoon slipped from her hand.

"Mom?"

She pressed one hand to her mouth as another cough tore through her.

Then Anna saw it — a small dark spot of blood on her mother's palm.

"Mom!" Anna was on her feet at once. "You're coughing blood!"

"I'm fine."

"You are not fine."

Adele tried to stand, but her knees buckled, and Anna caught her before she fell.

"Please, sit down."

"I'm okay, Anna."

"You're not okay!"

Adele struggled to catch her breath, and tears filled Anna's eyes.

"How long has this been happening?"

Silence.

"Mom!"

"I'm fine," Adele repeated, weaker this time.

"You keep saying that, but you're not."

Adele finally met her daughter's eyes, and there was sadness in them now, not just pain. "Go to my bedroom," she said. "On the right, near the corner — you'll find my medicine. Bring it to me."

Anna ran. She tore through her mother's small room, searching, until her hand brushed against something beneath the bed.

A wooden box.

She stopped. It was old, dust-covered, and looked as though it hadn't been opened in years.

"What is this?"

Curiosity won out. She knelt, pulled it free, and rested her fingers on the lid — and was about to lift it when her mother's weak voice reached her from the other room.

"Anna!"

She startled up. "Coming!" She pushed the box back beneath the bed, found the medicine a moment later, and hurried back.

"Here, Mom."

Adele's hands trembled as she took it. Anna watched, anxious, until her mother's breathing finally began to settle.

"Are you feeling better?" Anna asked, sitting beside her.

Adele nodded. "Yes."

Anna wasn't convinced. Something was wrong — something her mother wasn't telling her — and she meant to find out what.

A short while later, Adele rose. "I'm going to bed now."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Adele said, forcing a smile.

"Mom, you just coughed blood."

"I said I'm fine." Her voice softened. She touched Anna's cheek. "Just eat your food and take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Goodnight, my daughter."

"Goodnight."

Anna watched her disappear into the bedroom, an uneasy feeling she couldn't name settling over her. Something was wrong. She was sure of it now.

Later that night, she lay awake, unable to stop thinking about the wooden box. What was inside it? Why had her mother hidden it? And why did Adele go pale with fear every time the palace was mentioned?

The questions circled without answers until sleep finally took her.

She had no idea the answers were far closer than she imagined.

At Pavan's Chamber

The maids of Prince Pavan's quarters lined up in two neat rows, as they did every evening, to present his dinner. Salaza, the maid mistress, chose one of the newly appointed girls to carry it in.

"Go inside and present the meal," Salaza said calmly.

"Yes, ma."

"Remember — never look into the Prince's eyes. Don't speak unless he asks you to. Don't move unless he asks you to. Head bowed, all the way in."

"Yes, ma."

The maid walked into the chamber, head lowered, the tray balanced carefully in her hands. The room was decorated entirely in black — bed, chair, even the sheets — and so quiet that her own footsteps echoed off the walls.

Prince Pavan sat cross-legged on the bed, fingers tapping restlessly against his knee, as though he'd been waiting far too long for something.

She set the tray on the table across from him and stepped back, eyes still down.

"Why are you late?" he asked, his voice cold.

She said nothing. Her pulse hammered in her throat.

He reached for the food, took a bite — and spat it out.

"What is this? Who made this?"

Her hands began to shake. Without thinking, she looked up.

"Your Highness, it was made in the royal kitchen," she said, her voice unsteady.

"Did I ask you to speak? How dare you look at me!" He swept the plate off the table.

Crash.

The sound carried into the hall, and every maid outside went rigid. They knew that sound.

Salaza's eyes flicked toward the door.

"You're fired," Pavan snapped, jabbing a finger at the exit.

The maid fled, tears streaking her face — tears of fear, and of relief that she hadn't ended up in the dungeon like the others who'd broken his rules. She slipped back into line beside the others, head down.

"Thank goodness," she whispered, wiping her eyes.

Inside, Pavan sat in silence. He reached for the glass of wine beside the framed portrait of the late Queen Elaza and stared at it for a long moment. The anger drained out of his face, leaving only grief behind.

"I miss you, Mom," he said quietly, tears rising as he touched the frame with two fingers. "If you were still here, none of this would have happened."

For that one moment, the cold, feared Prince Pavan disappeared, and all that remained was a son who missed his mother.