Ginger was thumbing through photos of Sunshine Castle through the years.

  Some were very old, pre?Golden Rays. But most were from after. One was of the date orchard burning.

  Marco hovered behind her, pretending to look but really watching Olivia out of the corner of his eye. In the pictures, Olivia looked like a happy child. But over time, she seemed to change dramatically as she grew older and more isolated.

  Olivia walked into the dining room and set a blue, iridescent carnival glass bowl full of soft, fresh dates on the table.

  The dates, laid out as if prepared for a fine banquet, glowed softly, like each one held a tiny fire inside.

  Ginger paused on one photo. Its colors faded but unmistakable: Olivia as a young girl, smiling while stirring a big pot in the Golden Rays clubhouse kitchen. She handed it to her with a friendly gesture. Olivia winced, then looked again.

  Marbles, in the sweetest old lady voice she could muster, asked, “Why don’t you sit with us, angel? We won’t bite.” She smiled broadly to encourage her.

  Covering her mouth with one hand, Olivia looked to Carly. Carly smiled back. Shaking her head, she said, “Don’t look at me. Do what you want to do.”

  Olivia cautiously glanced at Marco and the others.

  Marco smiled shyly, then bit his bottom lip and gazed toward the spider cracks spreading across the dining room ceiling. He felt the storm pressure building in the room. To him, Olivia seemed caught in something stickier than the pile of dates, and he wanted no part of it.

  I just want to find Prince and go home.

  Slowly, she pulled out a dining chair and sat down. Her eyes were wet and puffy.

  Old Lady Marbles clasped her hands in delight. “Wonderful!”

  Ginger smiled and asked, “Did you cook this soup? It’s very good.”

  Olivia gave her a quick nod.

  Anton agreed the soup was good and added, “It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten warm homemade bread. Did you make this too?”

  Olivia nodded again, this time to Anton.

  Lemon announced loudly, “Those look gross!” She pushed the wrinkly brown dates away from her side of the table.

  “They’re just dates,” Marco said gently. “Olivia picked them out herself. You might like them.”

  “No!” Lemon shot back. “You’re trying to trick me! They look like poop!”

  “Well, I’ll have one!” declared Ginger. Reaching for the bowl, she pulled off one of the dark dried fruits and took a bite, chewing it with relish.

  Old Lady Marbles added, “Mmm! Oh yes… dates are good fiber.” She took one from the bowl and bit into it, exclaiming, “Ooh! So sweet!”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  They passed the iridescent bowl around, and soon everyone had taken some, until only two dates remained.

  “I’ll try one if she has one,” said Lemon, eyeing Olivia with her dare.

  Olivia stared down at the dried fruit in contemplation. Taking her hand off her mouth for a moment, she picked one up and bit into it. Staring right back at Lemon as if to say, Your turn.

  Lemon reached for the last of the sticky dates and frowned. It looked huge in her small hand. Pinching her nose, she closed her eyes and took a bite.

  “It’s chewy!” she declared, smacking her lips. She took another bite and said, “Oh! It’s good!”

  Carly warned her, “Don’t eat the pit. Spit the pit out.”

  Olivia was covering her mouth with her hand again, but her eyes seemed to twinkle a little and to Marco, it almost looked like there could be a smile hidden underneath. Maybe even a stifled laugh. Her eyelids fluttered like tame butterflies, and as her shoulders relaxed, it seemed as if she was about to say something.

  Marco held his breath.

  Lemon abruptly stuck out her tongue, leaned over her plate, and let the pit drop out of her mouth onto it. She said with a grin, “That was so good! I bet that’s what unicorns eat!”

  Olivia cringed, and her face turned red. Marco could see her eyes watering up again.

  “What’s it like to live in a castle? Are you a princess? Why do you make up stories?”

  “Do unicorns eat dates?”

  Shut up, Lemon. Give her a chance.

  He had enough of Lemon’s nonstop nonsense.

  Olivia drew herself upright in her chair.

  The storm buzzed outside, but Olivia crackled even more. And her eyes said more than any words could. As she met the gazes of the adults, she trembled and covered her mouth. Her chair scraped sharply against the floor.

  A flicker of concern crossed Lemon’s face. She tilted her head and asked, “Are you okay? Hey…”

  The stormy monsoon continued beating wind and rain against the old walls of Sunshine Castle. Thunder rattled the dishes and made the lights flicker.

  Olivia cried out defiantly, “I say what is true and drink what is clear!”

  She pounced up the spiral stairs, humming strangely, passionately, as if casting a spell to seal herself off from the world. Her humming swelled to a crescendo until, finally, a door creaked open. Then slammed shut.

  A gust of wind swept through the hall, stirring the napkins and rippling the soup in the bowls. Somewhere overhead, a drip fell from the crackled ceiling and landed with a bright plink into a rain bucket.

  “She’s gone up to the bell tower again. She cries for her Dune Boy. No one can help, not even me, and I’m with her every day,” Carly explained. “I appreciate you folks trying.”

  Angry, Marco’s arm flew up before he even knew what he was doing, finger pointed straight at Lemon.

  He shouted, “Why can’t you just shut up, Lemon?”

  Then everything stopped. He looked at his own hand, hanging there in midair, accusing, dramatic, stupid.

  He lowered it slowly, his face burning.

  Shit, why did I have to go and yell like that?

  A fork clinked against a plate. Someone inhaled sharply.

  Lemon screamed, “What did I do?” She turned red. The people around the dining table squirmed, knowing what would happen next.

  The room went quiet.

  Waaaaaah!

  “Oh, my little dear,” said Old Lady Marbles, placing a hand on Lemon’s shoulder. “You didn’t mean to hurt anyone. But sometimes, even kind words can sting—especially if someone’s already feeling tender.”

  Then came the rumble. Mr. Montebello didn’t rise. He set down his mug and wiped his fingers with a napkin. “Marco,” he said, voice low and even. “That’s enough.”

  “We’ll talk when the rain lets up. And yes, I’m telling your mom. She’s not gonna be thrilled.”

  Marco snapped, “What?” His face flushed. “Lemon talks too much! Look what she did—she made Olivia cry!”

  Anton didn’t blink. Just picked up his mug again.

  “You’re not wrong,” he said. “But you sure didn’t help.”

  “Nobody made Olivia cry,” interjected Carly. “She’s been crying a lot lately, for that Dune Boy, and there ain’t nobody that can help her but herself.”