Author's note: Wow, has this one been on the back burner! Sorry about my complete lack of updates, but it's my very first crossover and my first romance, so I'm having a lot more problems than I thought I'd have. Just bug me to get working; hopefully that will get me moving. Thanks so much to Rhapsody, Ireland O'Reily, Falco Conlon, Robyn, and SpotslilBoidie for their reviews; I hope you like this part as well. Also, thanks to Firefly for allowing me to make her evil (very different from what she's really like). Enjoy!
The kitchen smelled of honey-wheat bread baking and about to burn. Several young servants (although they were much older than they had been when they initially began to work at the manor) rushed around the space, grabbing for jars of strawberry jam and containers of butter. Their cheeks were all suffused with a faint crimson due to the small mountain of burning logs in the fireplace. Not given much time to converse, they mainly worked in silence to prepare breakfast for the mistress of the manor who, as it was well known, was not a morning person and therefore apt to fire any sluggish servant.
"Did she ever wake up on the wrong side of the bed," grumbled Fairy as she entered the kitchen from the dining room, scowling and eyes narrowed. "Get the butter. The tea's cold. I didn't want this kind of bread. Who put the tack in her nightgown?"
"Probably Snipeshooter," Boots chuckled as he stirred a massive pot of soup boiling over the fire.
The girl glared at the teakettle as she poured steaming liquid into a new cup. "Hope she burns her tongue on it," she muttered bitterly.
Maniac smiled warmly at the frowning blonde. "I'll serve breakfast for you today, if you watch the bread for me," she offered, to which Fairy breathed a loud sigh of relief. "Thanks. For a minute I was sure she was going to stab me with her fingernails or suffocate me with her feather boa."
"I wouldn't put it past her," Snaps mumbled in an uncommonly bitter tone from the isolated corner in which she had been cracking eggshells and dripping the yolk into a bowl.
The other servants eyed Snaps sympathetically, realizing the cause of her bad mood. Only two days prior, Medda (who had been particularly in need of tax money after she had purchased a new sterling silver necklace for Firefly) had sold Snitch to the palace. There, no doubt, he would be imprisoned and, when he had served an acceptable time in jail, shipped to New Jersey, never to see his home or Snaps again. The servants were silently returning to their work when Luna entered the kitchen. Her countenance was unusually somber and she offered only a vague greeting to her friends. Mischief and Racetrack cast each other a bewildered glance over the firewood they tossed into the flames. As she stood on her toes to reach a pile of neatly folded napkins, SB inquired, "Hey, Luna, you okay? The moon didn't stop rising or anything, did it?" She gave the girl a playful smile in hopes of raising her friend's spirits.
A slow grin suffused at the corners of Luna's mouth. "I certainly hope not," she replied, "because we're going to be rather busy tonight."
Boots halted his stirring and cocked his head curiously. "What do you mean?"
"Snitch is still being held in the palace's prison, right?" she prompted her friends.
At the mention of Snitch, Snaps lifted her head, her eyes wide with hope. "The Refuge," she remarked cautiously, wondering what Luna was getting at, "where all of the young servants are held before their future is determined."
"Too bad it's always determined that they're sent to Jersey," scoffed SB.
"Well, the palace is going to be in somewhat of an uproar today, what with the prince having escaped this morning," the raven-haired girl continued with a sly grin. Off the confused stares of her peers, she shook her head absently. "Let's just say a little bird told me. Anyway, with the guards all concerned about the prince's whereabouts…"
Snaps's eyes brightened as she realized Luna's plan. "Then they won't notice if a certain unjustly held servant isn't in the Refuge any longer." Leaping from her corner, she threw her arms around Luna's neck and exclaimed, "That's perfect!"
Skittery remained solemn, frowning unconvinced. "But what about Medda? Won't she notice if the servant she just sold is scrubbing the floors and serving her breakfast again?"
Maniac shook her head indifferently. "We can cross that bridge when we come to it."
"Not to mention…" Luna murmured, digging into her pocket and extracting the heavy velvet purse. She tossed it onto the counter where it opened and spilled gold coins onto the wood. "We can purchase some of my father's belongings that she sold to pay off her taxes."
Fairy's blue eyes widened at the sight of the coins sparkling in the light of the fire. Raising her head to meet Luna's cheerful gaze, she sighed, "How about tomorrow you serve breakfast and I'll get up early to pick apples?"
*****
Medda's long pink fingernails drummed a slow, steady tattoo onto the mahogany table. Her mouth was set in a tight, demanding frown as though it had been carved that way. Aside from the disappearance of the somewhat-forced smile she had adopted, she didn't appear that much different from the time she had first arrived at the manor. Her flaming hair was often dyed to conceal any possible strands of silver. Any wrinkles or figure flaws were hidden by expensive make up and yards of colorful satin. But what remained the most vivid throughout the years were her eyes, alert and cold and calculating; and at this moment, they were focused on the door.
"Where is that girl?" she muttered irritably.
"Probably lazing about somewhere," drawled Firefly as she inspected her perfectly sculpted nails. "We really put up with too much from her, Mother. Yesterday she barely dusted my room."
Harlaquinne, who had been studying the intricate pattern on her empty plate, lifted her bright blue eyes. "She did an excellent job on my room yesterday," she piped up enthusiastically. At the sight of her mother and sister's identical glaring eyes, she bit at the corner of her lower lip. Her shoulders fell as she waited for the inevitable response.
Medda paused dramatically, her eyes becoming slits as she focused on her youngest daughter. "Harlaquinne, dear," she practically hissed her words. What have I told you about speaking without being spoken to?"
"A…a lady of breeding…" she trailed off as she tried to recall one of her mother's numerous lectures, "…doesn't?"
From across the table, Firefly smirked and sniggered softly as she buttered a piece of bread. Medda sighed in either defeat or contempt and tossed a few flaming curls over her shoulder. She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, as though asking for divine intervention, before turning her attention back to the door. "Where is that girl?" she repeated hotly. "Luna!"
"Coming," a breathless Luna answered as she rushed into the room, balancing several plates on her arms. As she placed the dishes in front of her family members, she murmured absently, "Good morning, Stepmother…Firefly…Harlaquinne."
Harlaquinne's expression brightened at the remark, and a response was halfway out of her mouth when she caught sight of her mother's narrowing eyes. Instantly she lowered her head, wincing slightly like a small animal. She studied her plate intently, as though she found her eggs absolutely fascinating.
Medda either didn't notice or didn't care about her daughter's reaction. Instead, she eyed Luna distrustfully. "Where were you?"
"I was gathering apples," the dark-haired girl replied smoothly, "and as the best apples grow at the top of the tree I had to-"
"Yes, yes, that's quite enough," she interjected, waving her hand as though carelessly brushing away a fly. As Luna placed a bowl of fruit on the table, Medda studied the girl carefully. "Your dress is utterly revolting," she finally remarked, spitting out the words as though they were seeds. "No wonder the manor needs such cleaning every day; you must bring in half of the dirt from the fields."
A smirk spread across Firefly's lips as she glanced up from her cup. "There are dogs with more cleanliness than you possess," she drawled.
Medda either didn't notice or mind her daughter's remark. She continued, "I insist that you never appear wearing such an outfit in my presence again."
"Yes, Madame," Luna murmured as she set down the last of the plates. Her expression remained detached, as though her stepmother had simply been commenting on the mildness of the weather. She had grown used to such daily comments from Medda, who seemed to enjoy berating her stepdaughter at any available situation. She made the smallest of bows, her eyes directed at the floor rather than her stepmother's eyes, and moved to leave the room.
Her tongue, however, did not prove to be so courteous at that moment. "Perhaps if you had not sold all of the servants, you would not be forced to see me so often," she muttered sarcastically before she could catch herself.
Eyes widening slightly in anger, Medda whirled around in her chair. "Luna!" she shouted sharply, her voice slicing the air. The girl halted and turned slowly but obediently to face the red-haired woman.
"I should throw you out into the streets for your insolence," she hissed. Her long nails dug into the arms of her chair. "Then you would come to realize how truly generous I have been to you. I have given you all that you could possibly need in exchange for a few simply tasks around the house." She adopted an affronted veneer, as though she couldn't understand the cause of Luna's audacity. "I advise you to think about that as you give both the basement and the stables a thorough cleaning this afternoon, in addition to your other chores."
Luna nodded solemnly. "Yes, Madame," she repeated softly and, managing to control her tongue, slipped out of the room without another word.
Medda sighed heavily and turned her attention to her fresh cup of tea. "Honestly, that girl is more trouble than she's worth. Of course, that's not saying much, is it?" She laughed lightly and sipped at the warm liquid.
To be continued…please review!