The barn smelled of hay and damp earth, the kind of smell that made some people wrinkle their noses, but Lena found comforting. It reminded her that no matter the chaos of the palace, some things—like mucking out stalls, feeding the animals, and sweeping straw—remained stubbornly mundane.
She bent over the trough, scrubbing stubborn mud from a wooden pail while Ashikai lounged nearby, his golden eyes half-closed, tail twitching in contentment. He was happily chewing on his favorite patch of grass, which Lena had been warned was the one he liked most—sunlit, slightly sweet, and annoyingly impossible to keep clean.
"You know," she said, shaking her head, "you are the only fox I know who enjoys eating grass that smells like manure."
Ashikai flicked a lazy ear at her. It's aromatic, he countered telepathically, and energizing. You wouldn't understand.
"I understand perfectly," she replied, crouching down to scratch behind his ears. "You're just… ridiculous."
He purred at that, though it came out more like a grumble of approval.
Lena stood, brushing hay from her sleeves. "Alright, enough lounging. We've got work to do."
Ashikai only blinked. Work? he asked silently. I thought this was your job to sweep straw, not critique my gourmet habits.
"Shut it," she muttered, laughing. Someone has to supervise.
Before he could retort, the barn door creaked sharply. Lena froze.
A palace servant stood in the doorway, posture rigid, eyes sharp, the kind of gaze that made you feel instantly small.
"You," he barked, "have been summoned by the Demon Queen."
Ashikai's ears flattened. Lena's stomach dropped.
"…Understood," she said calmly, though her hands itched to brush the dirt from her uniform. She nodded at the fox. "Stay. Take care of yourself."
He frowned at her, voice low in her mind. You're walking into a lion's den.
"I'm used to lions," she muttered, turning away.
---
By the time Lena arrived at the rose shed, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows over the neatly trimmed hedges and climbing roses. Marianne was kneeling among the flowers, scissors in hand, trimming thorns with surgical precision. The roses seemed almost alive under her gaze, their petals darkening as if responding to her touch.
"I asked you to clean my shed, didn't I?" Marianne's voice was soft but carried the weight of command.
Lena swallowed. "Yes, Your Majesty. I—"
"I've been busy," she added quickly. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."
Marianne's head flicked, and in a motion faster than Lena anticipated, the silver pruning scissors sailed through the air. Lena stepped back, dodging instinctively, feeling the wind from the blades whip past her face. The scissors sank into the wooden trellis with a solid thunk.
Silently, Lena exhaled, tilting her head in mild annoyance. Nice throw.
"You have quick reflexes," Marianne said, eyeing her carefully. "Interesting."
Lena said nothing, only narrowed her eyes, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Marianne straightened and summoned a maid, who immediately appeared, head bowed, hands ready. "Tea," Marianne commanded, voice precise and sharp.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the maid said, bowing lower than Lena thought possible.
The tea arrived in delicate cups, steam curling like serpents. Marianne gestured toward a cup. "Drink."
Lena shook her head. "No, thank you."
Marianne's eyes glinted. "You refuse tea offered by a queen?"
"I prefer not to drink things offered after objects are thrown at my head," Lena replied evenly, though her lips twitched into a half-smile.
For a moment, Marianne simply studied her. Then she laughed softly, almost approvingly. "There's something about you," she said. "Something that calls me."
Lena tilted her head, confused. "Calls you?"
Marianne stepped closer, her gaze intense, fingers brushing a petal lightly, almost casually. "Yes. Even in your chaos, you're… distinct. Not everyone leaves a trace in places they don't touch."
Lena blinked. "I don't—"
Marianne waved her hand, dismissing her hesitation. "Clean the shed. Do your work well, but understand this: it's not only the roses that watch here. You leave marks where you walk. Be mindful."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lena said, shoulders tightening as she stepped back.
As she moved toward the shed entrance, Lena's eyes flicked to Ashikai resting in her mind. She imagined his golden gaze following her, silent warning threading through the connection they shared.
I'll keep watch, he said simply. Don't be reckless.
I'm always reckless, she replied with a smirk, though her stomach fluttered slightly at his concern.
The sun dipped lower, turning the roses to shadows of red and black. Lena's mind wandered, replaying Marianne's words—the part about something calling to her. Something more than thorns and roses, more than the mundane chores she completed every day.
She couldn't yet name it, but she knew it was true.
And somewhere deep beneath the surface, Lena felt the first prickling sense that the world was bigger than chores, bigger than thorns, and certainly bigger than a fox munching his comfort grass.
---
If