Book One: The Marigold's Larkspur ~ A tale of mystery, magic, and obsession.

Chapter Sixteen

Callidus was absent from dinner that night.

"I won't eat any of this." Cressida mumbled, as she stared at the large platter of lemon tarts, cakes, and assorted desserts he had sent along with a brief message; 'I apologize for missing dinner. I shall see you in the morning. Please enjoy. Callidus'

Mint carried the platter to the coffee table in front of the twin settees, placing it down with a heavy exhale, before looking at Cressida in confusion. "Cilla said these were your favorites."

Cressida turned to Cilla, unamused. "Cilla."

Cilla briefly paused, her fingers in the process of clearing the table. "Oh, are they not?" she asked, expressionless, before resuming her actions.

"Cilla, you know I hate lemons."

"Ah. Lemons. I thought you hated melons. My mistake, your highness." Cilla replied, effortlessly carrying the large stack of dirty plates to the rolling cart.

Cressida sighed, "Well, that explains why every meal has been followed by a lemon dessert."

Mint looked at Cressida sympathetically, "I'm sorry, your highness. I didn't know."

"It's not your fault, Mint. Thank you for bringing them, please help yourself." Cressida said, gesturing towards the desserts.

Mint hesitated for a moment before nodding and reaching for a small lemon tart. She bit into it tentatively, her eyes widening in delight. "Oh, this is really good!" she exclaimed, before quickly glancing at Cressida in apology. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Cressida smiled at her, "It's alright, Mint. I'm glad you're enjoying it." She watched her for a moment before turning her attention back to Cilla, who was now cleaning up the last of the dishes, her movements smooth and practiced. "It's not the first time Cilla has pulled this trick."

"Really?" Mint asked, as she chewed. "That isn't very nice, Cilla."

A small smirk of a smile graced Cilla's face as she stacked plates. "I have not the slightest idea what you both are talking about. It was an honest mistake."

"Right. Just like at my 10th birthday celebration, and you swore up and down to the chef that my tastebuds had 'finally matured' and I suddenly liked lemon cake. And I ate no dessert the entire party."

Cilla's expression remained unchanged, but there was a glint in her eye that suggested she was enjoying this exchange. "It was an especially good harvest that year. The lemons were the size of a head."

"I remember," Cressida replied, "Because I threw one at your head."

Cilla shrugged. "That must be why I keep forgetting, your highness. Children's heads are very delicate."

Cressida rolled her eyes but couldn't help but laugh at Cilla's dry wit. "Well, thank you for reminding me why I never let you plan any of my events."

"You're missing out, your highness."

Mint giggled, before reaching for another lemon tart. "Well, I think they're delicious. Maybe you should give them another try?" she suggested, her tone helpful.

Cressida wrinkled her nose, "No thank you, Mint. Maybe one day. But for now, I think I'll stick to desserts that I actually like."

Mint smiled as she looked up at the two of them. "You two sound like my sisters and I. You've known each other since childhood, haven't you?"

Cressida nodded with a smile. "Yes, Cilla was chosen to be my playmate when I was... four I believe."

"Five." Cilla corrected. "And you chose me. You saw me helping my mother mop the corridor, and demanded I let you 'play with the bubbles' too."