Chapter 1
The rain had been falling for hours. Not the kind that tapped gently at the windows, but the kind that slapped the roof like it was angry.
Like the sky was punishing them again.
Inside the crooked little wooden house at the edge of Elowen Woods, Mellisa pressed a blanket against the ceiling, trying to catch the latest leak. Her arms ached. Her dress clung to her skin. Her toes were cold.
“Missa?” came a sleepy voice.
She turned. Joanna stood barefoot on the creaky wooden floor, her hair tangled from sleep, her cheeks rosy from the chill. She held a chipped tin cup in one hand and a soggy blanket in the other.
Mellisa softened immediately.
“Yes, baby?”
“Da roof’s cryin’ ‘gain.” Joanna looked up at the ceiling with big, confused eyes. “It’s makin’ da drippy sounds.”
“I know, sweetpea.” Mellisa folded the damp cloth again and tucked it tighter into the gap above. “It’s alright. It’s just a little storm.”
Joanna shuffled forward, stepping carefully around a sleepy black crow who blinked one eye open.
“Missa… we gots bweakfasts today?”
Mellisa’s heart cracked.
She squatted down and pulled her sister into her arms, soaking up the warmth of her tiny body. “Not today, honey. But maybe tomorrow. Tobble hid a few berries. We can share those later.”
From the corner, Tobble—a small squirrel with more attitude than size—grunted from inside a carved-out acorn bowl.
“I didn’t hide them. I stored them. For emergencies.”
Then he muttered under his breath, “Starving counts as an emergency, doesn’t it?”
Joanna giggled softly. “Tobble’s funny when he’s angwy.”
Mellisa smiled tiredly and kissed her sister’s forehead. “Go curl up with Wrenna, okay? I’ll fix the fire.”
A soft, russet-colored fox was curled near the hearth, her tail wrapped protectively around a pile of patchwork quilts. She lifted her head gracefully and gave Mellisa a knowing look.
“Children should not know hunger,” Wrenna said gently, her voice always sounding like wind through leaves. “Yet here we are.”
Mellisa didn’t reply. She just stoked the embers, watching tiny orange sparks float up before fading like dreams.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Later that morning, the rain had softened, but everything was still wet. Mellisa changed into her maid uniform—threadbare and faded blue—and pinned her hair up with trembling hands. The palace didn’t allow loose strands.
Joanna followed her outside, holding her hand.
“Will you comes back early, Missa?”
“I’ll try, lovebug.”
“Can you brings da bread da prince gave last week?”
Mellisa froze. She hadn’t told Joanna that Prince John had slipped her that bread. She hadn’t told anyone.
Joanna grinned, innocent and sleepy. “I saw you hidin’ it in your apron.”
Mellisa laughed quietly, pressing her forehead to Joanna’s. “You little sneak.”
Behind them, Cawley—the crow—flapped up onto the roof.
“Go now, go now, girl with hands. Palace wants clean, palace wants shine,” he croaked lazily. “But come home before the sun yawns. Bad things in the woods when it sleeps.”
Mellisa nodded and kissed Joanna’s forehead one last time before walking into the foggy woods toward the palace.
She didn’t know it yet, but today would not be like the others.
Today, Prince John would notice her eyes weren’t smiling.
And he would ask why.
