"I have no idea what you guys are getting me into, but I am not going to do it."
The carriage rocked gently as it moved forward, the wheels grinding against stone and dirt in a steady rhythm. The curtains fluttered slightly with every turn, letting in thin slivers of evening light. The smell of polished wood, leather seats, and faint incense filled the enclosed space.
"Do it?" Vinegario said calmly. "You are already in the carriage. In a few minutes, we will arrive at the location."
Straw sat stiffly between the two men, her arms crossed, her knee bouncing despite herself. Vinegario sat across from her, composed and unreadable, while Apple sat beside her, unusually quiet for once. The destination loomed closer with every roll of the wheels, whether she liked it or not.
Apple's attire was completely different from what he normally wore. Gone were his comfortable royal garments and familiar colors. Instead, he was dressed in something formal, layered, and sharp. The fabric caught the light when he moved, making him look older, heavier somehow, like the weight of the crown had finally settled properly on his shoulders. If Straw had not known him, she might not have recognized him at all.
Vinegario, on the other hand, had changed in a different way. He wore a long beard that covered the lower half of his face, thick and carefully styled, disguising his usual sharp profile. This was the first time Straw had ever seen his mouth move clearly. Even then, the beard seemed intentional, as if it was still hiding something rather than simply decorating his face.
Straw studied him from the corner of her eye. She had already come to a conclusion. It had to be a scar. It made sense. The constant masks, the hoodies, the way he avoided prolonged stares. People who hid did so for reasons. Vinegario had plenty of them. Still, none of that explained how she had ended up here.
One moment she had been existing peacefully within the palace walls, and the next she was wedged inside a moving carriage with two men. One was a prince who looked at her like she had committed a crime punishable by death, and the other was a king who had been unknowingly tormenting her for days over stolen pudding.
Her stomach twisted, and not just from nerves.
"What if the princess finds out?" Straw said, breaking the silence. "She comes looking for me by 7, and I won't be there."
Vinegario did not even look at her when he answered. "I don't know. Why does she need you by seven?"
Straw hesitated, then cleared her throat. "Well… 7 is my curfew."
Her voice dropped slightly at the end, the word curfew tasting strange in her mouth. She stared at the floor, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous it sounded coming out loud.
"Mine is 9," Apple said immediately, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"7?" Straw turned sharply toward him. "How come you have 9 and I have 7? That's not fair. Even though my daily time is spent touring around the whole mansion, which I am not, I have probably seen every corner of that place. Some are scary, some are bloody, some are intriguing, and..."
"Well, nobody asked you to fuck my niece," Vinegario cut in flatly. The carriage seemed to freeze for half a second. "You took her flower, and you have to pay for it. Maybe next time, look at the gender and the name."
Straw stared at him, then laughed sharply, unable to help herself.
"Oh, oh, I definitely knew the gender," she shot back. "Maybe not the name, but I knew who I was fucking. And it was fucking amazing. We do fuck every single day now, and if she doesn't see me in bed tonight, she will be mad."
Apple let out a quiet cough, suddenly very interested in the pattern carved into the carriage wall.
Straw leaned back, folding her arms again. For all her bravado, unease curled in her chest. She still wasn't convinced about what was happening or where they were going. The ride felt too deliberate, too planned. The way neither of them explained things properly made her skin itch. For a brief moment, a ridiculous thought crossed her mind. What if she was being kidnapped?
"Mr. King," Straw finally said, voicing the thought she had been chewing on, "are you taking revenge on me?"
Apple looked genuinely startled. "What? Why would I take revenge on you? You have done nothing wrong."
"I am the pudding thief," Straw said, exhaling. "I ate your pudding, and I didn't tell you because I was scared I would get beheaded. And if you're taking me somewhere to be executed, please let me see the princess one last time."
The words came out fast, tumbling over each other. Apple stared at her for a long second.
"You are the pudding thief," he said slowly. "I knew it. I just didn't have enough proof."
"You did," Straw replied immediately.
"You may be the only one with pink hair in the palace," Apple said, his tone calmer now, "but you were my least suspect because you mean so much to my little sister, and I didn't want to frame you."
The tension snapped. Straw's eyes widened, fear evaporating in an instant and replaced by something bright and electric.
"I mean so much to the princess?" she said eagerly, leaning forward. "How? Tell me. Tell me."
Apple's expression hardened, annoyance flickering across his face.
"I'm not telling you anything," he said. "You ate my chocolate pudding, and you made my sister try to take the fall. You are a bad girl, and bad girls need to be punished. When we get back home, I am going to tell Berryanna to punish you very severely."
He pointed directly at her, accusation clear in the gesture. Straw smirked.
"Just so you know," she said lightly, "she already knows about it, and she didn't do a thing. Now tell me how I mean so much to her, and I will play along with whatever you and your hoodie uncle are up to."
Apple opened his mouth, then closed it again. He said nothing.
As they were about to reach the location, Vinegario reached into his coat and pulled out a folded list. He handed it to Straw with a practiced motion, his fingers brushing against hers for barely a second.
"These are your instructions," he said. "This is your role at the feast."
Straw unfolded the paper, scanning it quickly. Her eyes skimmed down the page, faster than Vinegario probably expected. When she realized the setting was a feast, her shoulders relaxed and her earlier irritation melted away. A feast meant food.
When the carriage finally came to a stop, the door was opened from the outside. Warm light and noise rushed in, music drifting through the air along with laughter and conversation.
Straw stepped down first. Once her feet hit the ground, she folded the paper neatly and handed it back to Vinegario.
"You need to hold on to it so you won't forget," he said.
"No worries," Straw replied. "I already read all five questions. I know what to say to Lady Diane."
Vinegario raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then fill me in."
Straw did not hesitate.
"How close were you and the late Lady Bart? When was the last time you had a conversation? Does she have any enemies? What was her relationship with the late Lord of Finance? And do you have any locations of the inns she goes to?" she said quickly, barely pausing between sentences.
Vinegario stared at her, then looked down at the paper, silently confirming every word she had spoken. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. He was impressed, even if he refused to show it.
"Your questions are robotic," Straw added casually. "They sound like cops during an interrogation. If you expect me to blend in and befriend the lady, those words need to be rephrased."
With that, Straw turned and headed inside the feast, Apple following closely behind her.