One Word Response

*Hezzlie*

Natalie is fairly distraught by the time we make it upstairs from Wilma’s room. She’s still shaking and crying a little when we take a seat in a parlor and call for some tea and biscuits. That just sounds like the sort of thing a lady of the house is supposed to request when she has a guest.

Not that Natalie is a guest. She works here, after all. And she lives here. But right now, I am the closest I’ve been to having a friend over since before I went to Peripheral, and I’ve missed that, even if that’s not the most important part of what’s going on right now.

Natalie dabs at her eyes with a tissue. She has the box next to her on the velvet couch where we are sitting. I’ve never been particularly good at soothing people. My mom is great at it, but a lot of times, I felt like she was babying me, and I never liked that, so I probably give people too much space when they need less. Still, I’m patting her shoulder. “I just can’t believe this,” she finally says, not for the first time.

“I know. I couldn’t believe it either,” I admit. “I still can’t. But it’s true. We just have to accept it.”

“It’s just so hard to believe that she could betray all of us. She was like a grandmother to me. I remember when I was a little girl, she’d sneak me cookies from the kitchen and always had a kind word and a hug for me.”

“That sounds very much like the Wilma I know,” I agree.

“When I first started working  as a maid, she taught me everything I needed to know. It was hard work, but she made it fun.” She sniffles, wipes her nose, and plucks another tissue. I look around for a trash can for the old one but don’t see one, so she wads it up and holds it in her other hand. 

Right now, she is what my mother would call a “hot mess,” and I wish I could call my mom in here to do what she does best and mother Natalie, but she’s out training with Veronica. Our cousin witch is leaving in two days. She still isn't particularly happy that I’m stronger than her, but we’ve earned her respect, from what I can tell, and Mom wants to learn as much from her as she can before she goes.

And takes a moonstone with her–which I’m not sure is a great idea, but I understand why Rowan has decided to give it to her. I can’t imagine the Blackwells or any other witches going in against us with King Solomon or any other tyrannical king who treats his people so poorly. After all, the witches keep to themselves mostly because they don’t want to be taken over and manipulated the way King Solomon treats all of his people. That’s what Veronica has told me anyway.

A maid brings in the tray of biscuits and tea. She pours a cup for me and one for Natalie, and I can tell she’s concerned about Natalie. I assume they are friends when Natalie takes the tea and says, “Oh, thank you so much, Erin. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no trouble,” the other woman, who is probably a few years older than us, says with a nod. I don’t know her very well. It’s mostly been Wilma and Natalie who have waited on me since I’ve spent so much time in my room. 

“Thank you, Erin,” I say in a dismissive tone, though I’m smiling. I’m sure Natalie isn’t the only member of the staff that’s distraught about Wilma, and Erin and the others will probably talk to Natalie in private later. Right now, I’m not thinking of Natalie as a servant, though. 

Natalie sips her tea, momentarily giving up on her crying. I pick up the plate of biscuits–which are really just shortbread cookies, I think–and offer one to her. She takes it, snaps it in half like she’s beheading an enemy and crams half of it in her mouth.

I bite back a laugh. So much for the two of us pretending to be dainty royals. I take one, too, and nibble on it like I think a princess is supposed to. We sit in silence for a bit. It’s starting to seem a little awkward. Am I really so bad at talking to people now? I finally ask, “How was the rest of your trip?”

Shrugging, Natalie says, “Fine. Corey’s mom is very nice, as is his stepfather. I’m not sure she was particularly happy when he said he wanted to come back here, but obviously she let him come.”

I nod and take another bite of my cookie–biscuit–as Natalie shoves the rest into her mouth. I give her a moment. She’s eating angry. I get that. I’ve done it a lot of times. It’s easier with a fork because then one gets to stab things. 

We are still just sitting here awkwardly when I hear Rowan’s voice in my head. ‘Where are you?’

‘In the parlor nearest the stairs that go downstairs to the basement,’ I tell him. ‘With Natalie.’

‘Oh, good,’ he replies. ‘That’s who I need to talk to.’

My forehead furrows, and I see Natalie arch an eyebrow. I’m sure she can tell that I’m talking to someone through the mind-link. I’m not very good at it. In fact, it’s hard for me to not move my mouth. ‘Okay,’ I say, and it’s more of a question than a statement.

‘I need to tell her something, and she’s not going to like it,’ he continues.

I’m not sure what to think of that. She’s already crying, so maybe that makes it a good time to get it over with. On the other hand, she probably can’t take a lot more bad news. 

I still haven’t thought of an answer when Rowan walks in. He stands in the doorway for a moment as Natalie beheads another biscuit.

Rowan looks at me, and I shrug. “What’s going on?” he asks.

Natalie’s eyes widen, and she starts to stand, but I push her back down. “He’s not the king right now,” I tell her. “You’re my friend, and he’s my fiance.”

She looks at Rowan for confirmation, and he nods, crossing the room to sit in a chair on her side of the couch. “Is everything all right?”

“Not even a little bit,” Natalie tells him. “We went to see Wilma.”

Now, his eyes are on me, and it’s that same look he used to give me before I realized we were mates when I thought he might try to murder me. But it dissolves pretty quickly. I shrug. “We needed closure.”

He nods, accepting that. “Well, I’m sure that wasn’t easy. For either of you.”

“It wasn’t,” Natalie says. “But… the more I think about what she’s done, the less sad I become and the more angry I am.”

“That seems… normal, I think,” he replies. He runs a hand through his hair and can’t quite decide whether or not to scoot back in his chair. 

“How’s Corey?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“He’s good. I took him out to train with Brody. One of the other warriors got hurt, though, and I had to call James to come out there,” he explains.

“Oh, no. Is he okay?” I’m still trying to figure out why he’s here, and I’m wondering if maybe the guy who got hurt is someone Natalie knows, and he wanted to tell her in person.

“He’s fine,” Rowan says dismissively. “Just broke his leg. But… Natalie, I need to tell you something.”

She tips her head to the side as she stares at him. “What is it, Alpha?”

“Well… when James came out there… I noticed something. I know this might not be easy for you to hear in light of why you left the pack to go visit Corey, but I think you need to know.”

She doesn’t blink, nor does she speak. She looks like a mannequin, staring at him. 

Uncomfortable, Rowan clears his throat. “James and Corey are mates.” He blurts it out so fast, I have to think through it a couple of times before it registers.

Natalie is struggling, too. She still hasn’t moved.

Carefully, I lay a hand on her lower arm. “Nat? Are you okay?”

A few seconds later, she blinks and inhales deeply enough that I know she wasn’t breathing before then. “Oh, yeah. I just… it sounded like you said James and Corey are… mates,” she says. Then a stream of nervous laughter comes pouring out of her mouth.

But no one else is laughing. Rowan nods. “That’s precisely what I said.”

The laughter stops immediately, and Natalie’s eyes widen, her already pale complexion growing even more white. When she opens her mouth, only one word comes out. “No.”