Fourth: Misty

 I could feel that he had left. My cheeks reddened when Velvet gave a knowing, sly smirk. I wanted to tell her to mind her business but it likely would have only served to give her ideas.

 She kept checking the pizza as I laboured a tall glass of water. We were silent as we waited. The longer time stretched on the more my stomach ached. I could smell the hearty beef and fresh tomatoes. It hit me then, how much my sense of smell had heightened. I took a deep breath. The dough was made perfectly with basil, rosemary, garlic, and chives. The sauce was made with tomato, a pinch of asparagus, cloves, turnip, and onion, all perfectly ripe. Atop the pizza had beef, bacon, and just a touch of chicken. I took in another deep breath. It tortured my stomach but it fed my soul. My sense of smell had become far more powerful than I could have imagined.

 My eyes snapped to Velvet as she grabbed yogurt from the icebox and put some into a bowl. I watched as she cut up several fruits and slid the bowl across the island to me.

 "Thank you."

 "I'm here for whatever you need."

 I looked at her as I ate some of the fruit salad. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. 

I returned my attention to the salad. The tension in the room was so thick I could have been underwater.

 Eventually I gave in and asked, "What do you do here?"

 "You would call me a blood slave."

 "What would you call yourself?"

 "Velvet," She answered simply, as if that told me anything.

 "So they don't simply drink from you?"

 "Only Claudette, the queen, and no. I take care of the castle for her as well."

 I nodded once and returned to my salad. My mouth was suddenly dry. I watched as Velvet took the pizza from the furnace and set it on the island. She cut it into wide slices and motioned for me to take my pick. A cloud of steam poured from my piece. The cheese, wide and thick, stretched to fill the space from my plate to the pizza. When I sunk my teeth into the soft, buttery, pillowy dough I groaned. My stomach was at war with itself about whether or not to savor the best meal I'd ever had.

"I didn't think I could impress a princess."

I looked at her. Her smile grew when mine appeared.

"You're easily better than our chef. Thank you."

Her eyebrows raised, "Wow, thank you."

"No thanks necessary," I hummed before I began eating the crust, something I'd rarely done. After the crunch of the outside the inside parted before my teeth could touch it, "Where did you learn to cook?"

"Formally? I didn't."

"I don't know if I can believe that."

"I have a good memory. A long time ago I started cooking by throwing things together and it evolved from there."

"I couldn't trust myself to do that."

She clicked her tongue, "Rich girl."

"You're one to talk," I snapped, feigning offense.

"I'm not born rich."

"Good point."

I grabbed another slice. I took smaller bites this time. Such a perfect meal deserved to be experienced. We were silent for a moment then. The air between us had settled into an easy comfort. After we finished the pizza I stood and was about to excuse myself when she leaned down to grab a bottle of red wine.

"Can you get the glasses?" She asked as she pointed behind me.

I got two glasses from the cupboard and set them on the island. She was unscrewing the cork. When it made a satisfying POP she poured the dark red liquid into the glasses. We clinked our glasses together and drank. The taste of grape was strong. Undertones of olive chased it. I typically hated olives but whoever had made the wine caused me to second guess myself.

"Do you like the castle?"

I used the wine as an excuse to pause, "It's beautiful."

"You don't feel at home, though."

"Well, it isn't my home."

"When you go home how will you hide your lycanthropy?"

"That isn't something you should worry yourself with."

"Misty," Her voice shifted from the delicate touch of a sheet of satin to a cool, refreshing breeze, "I lived in your kingdom during the divide. You should consider your safety."

"I appreciate your kindness but I know my family," I argued firmly, "They would not hurt me."

"I don't mean to upset you."

"No, but it certainly didn't stop you from accusing my family of being a threat to me."

"I'm not making any accusations. I hope that your change makes them rethink their assumptions, but it's impossible to ignore the threat of if they don't."

I took another sip. The taste of aged grape and olive lingered on my tongue.

"I know you're coming from a place of concern." I paused and drank again, "This whole thing makes me uneasy."

"Us, you mean?" When I didn't respond she continued, "You just need time. That's okay."

My eyes met her own. Within their vast depths worry and compassion swirled about.

"What brought you here?"

"It's a long story," It wasn't a refusal but a warning.

"I'd like to hear everything."

She began with that same glowing grin. The setting was around fifty years ago. She was thirty, the age she looked to be now.

She was staring out the attic window and into the night sky. The barrage of screams were far away, made further by how worn down her fear had become.

The home she occupied wasn't her own, and so the sound of shattering glass forced her to bolt upright but she wouldn't dare to scream. Instead she watched the hatch, her heart pounding in her chest.

Suddenly the hatch burst open and she couldn't help but squeal before scurrying to the wall.

Claudette watched her, her clothes bloody and torn, her chest heaving. She put one finger to her lips. The pounding of several feet shook the house. Velvet and Claudette kept their eyes locked onto each other.

"She went this way!" One of them called.

They flooded out of the house. Claudette's breathing slowed but remained as deep. She moved to stand before the younger woman. She held out her hand and helped Velvet to her feet.

"You're a good girl," She hummed, "But you're a criminal, too, aren't you?"

Claudette's eyes shifted to the knapsack that was stuffed to the brim. When she returned her attention to Velvet the younger woman felt shame bleed onto her face until a cold, smooth hand graced her cheek. A dainty thumb stroked her cheekbone.

"It's alright," She hummed, "You're safe now. I'll protect you. I promise."

Before Velvet could process fully what was happening tears were pouring down her face and her arms were holding the older woman as tightly as she could.

Please be real. She though, begged, to whoever would listen.

Claudette cradled Velvet in her arms. They didn't speak another word for the night. The next day Claudette snuck Misty into the castle. She gave her a meal fit for a king. Claudette lost many good soldiers that day. From then on she could take solace in the fact that she didn't have to carry her losses alone.

Velvet was miles away. When she returned to the present she held the ghost of a smile.

"I know you don't trust them. Please talk to Dread. Keep an open mind."

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't make any promises. Instead we drank together in silence. We later went for a walk together. When I returned to Dread's room he was sitting before the fire with a book. I shut the door and leaned against it. I looked down at Venom and he turned to look up at me. Dread could see me through his eyes. I didn't know how much he'd seen, how many secrets he knew.

"Dread?"

He put the book down on the coffee table and turned to face me. Staring into his eyes brought about butterflies in my stomach but I couldn't let it show.

"I didn't thank you for giving me a safe haven for my transformation, so, thank you."

"Anything for you."

I laid Venom on the bed and grabbed a nightgown that Dread had left at the foot of the bed for me. I went into the bathroom then and locked the door behind me.

Through the open window I could see the moon. She was waxing. In a matter of days I'd transform.

I turned to the mirror and dropped my dress. My eyes travelled over my body. I felt that there had been changes but looking at myself I just got the feeling that something was wrong.