Page 26 of A Crown of Fates

That’s all the encouragement I need. “Let’s do this.”

I catch the young boy as he dives for me then slip out from under the table with the small girl right behind us. When I stand, Estee and her friend Drea are shaking their heads.

“You don’t want to do this,” Estee says.

“I’m just finishing what you started, Starlight.” I grab a handful of noodles and throw them at the two women just as the teenager stands up from under the table. Spaghetti sticks to her hair and her eyes widen at me then she runs to join the other ladies.

Estee finally cracks a smile.

I take the two littlest kids with me, motioning for them to gather ammunition—brownies, mashed potatoes, and various bits of food on the table. “Get ready. We have to get them before they attack us!”

With our arms full, the three of us set up on the other side of the table, moving chairs to act as a wall at our backs.

“I’m Benji,” the boy says, bringing one of the treats to his mouth.

“Well, Benji. That’s our ammunition you’re eating.” I chuckle. “Are you going to let them overpower us for a bit of dessert or trust that I’ll have all this food replaced once we’ve won?”

He shrugs and makes me laugh harder as he replies, “A little of both.”

“I’m Addie,” the blonde girl adds, filling her hands with dinner rolls.

“Nice to meet you both,” I tell them with a friendly grin. “Now, let’s show them why they shouldn’t mess with us.”

Both kids giggle, and the battle begins.

A well-aimed blob of pudding thrown by one of the kids splatters across Drea’s cheek. She freezes for a moment, stunned, before laughing out loud. “Oh, it’s on now!”

I throw a handful of shredded cheese at Estee, who deftly ducks out of the way, only to have them land on a snarling Drea. Estee’s face lights up in surprise, and for the first time since meeting her, her defenses start falling away.

Estee laughs alongside the teenager—a genuine, bright sound—and it makes my heart swell. As much as I want to lose myself in that joy, I push it aside to focus on later and go back to the task at hand: getting them covered in as much food as possible.

“More ammo!” I yell to Benji, who’s now tossing brownies across the room like they’re throwing stars, while Addie, still giggling uncontrollably, flings spoonfuls of peas toward anyone who steps into her path.

The dining hall erupts into chaos—laughter echoing against the wooden beams of the ceiling, the sounds of children shrieking in delight, and the continuous barrage of food flying across the table.

Estee narrows her eyes at me playfully. “You think you’re winning, don’t you,Your Majesty?” she taunts, holding a serving ladle like a catapult, ready to launch a glob of gravy at me.

“I think I’m doing pretty well,” I reply, dodging the incoming food, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face. It feels good to be in this moment—carefree, not thinking about my duties or the burdens weighing on me. Just living.

Estee, with an expression of mock determination, makes her way around the table. “You’re going down!” she shouts, launching her gravy-loaded spoon at me.

I try to duck, but I stumble into one of the chairs, allowing the thick, brown liquid to catch me square in the chest. The warm goo slides down my shirt, and I can’t help but chuckle. “You’ll pay for that.” I scoop up custard and fling it toward her.

It lands in her hair, making a mess of the dark strands. Estee gasps, her eyes wide, before she bursts into laughter. And it’sbeautiful—carefree and genuine, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle at the edges and lights up her entire face.

The children are howling with their own giggles, pelting whatever food they can find, and Drea throws herself deeper into the fray, smearing mashed potatoes onto Benji’s cheek while dodging stray splatters of sauce.

The madness grows, and soon, the dining hall is a battlefield of laughter-filled war calls and feigned vengeance—a far cry from the solemn, silent place it usually is.

Estee locks eyes with me, still grinning, the custard now dripping down her face. And for just a moment, I let myself hope. That this lightness, this joy can stay—that she might stay.

“Truce!” I call out, holding my hands up in surrender, as I take in the mess we’ve made. “Truce before there’s nothing left to eat!”

Estee raises a brow, looks down at the remains of the food then back at me. “Hmm,” she says, smirking as she wipes her dirtied hands on her already ruined clothes. “But only because I’m starving.”

Drea stands, brushing noodles from her dress, and the children come out from behind the chairs, snickering as they take in the state of everyone and everything. I step forward, offering Estee a hand to shake on our momentary peace.

When she takes it, warmth spreads through me—a hint of the connection that, for so long, I didn’t believe I would ever have. However fleeting it is, it’s real and worth fighting for.

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