Melissa Spatiatis.
The scent of pungent herbs and old wood is in the air as I push open the heavy oak door of my father's workshop, it is a high, vaulted ceilings. To my right, there are a series of arched windows, each the size of a doorway, it would have let in shafts of golden light if it weren’t in the evening. There are long worktables laden with alchemical instruments and strange, gnarled roots. Healers, apprentices, and patients would have been here if it weren’t night…who I did not expect to see is Queen Lupita.
My blood runs cold as I am taking off my gloves.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Melissa, she heard you were coming and she wanted to join.” My father says, walking out behind her to meet me.
I have a lot to say. Like how I do not want her here…but they remain on
