Forgiven

'''Note: This story was written for a short story comp. My promp was "What would you give your enemy for breakfast." This was the first thing that hit my head. Sorry if it's dark. And tragic. And creepy.'''

-Bluey

-Before-

I rushed into the kitchen, apron flying, the egg basket swinging dangerously. "I'm so sorry I'm late!" I gasped, sliding the basket across the bench.

The kitchen servants are clustered around Mother, who's swaying and wailing. Strangely, there's a message page standing near them, looking very sorry for himself. Every one of them stares at me, mouth open and eyes wide. Pots and pans lie abandoned on the stoves, and a faint smell of burning wafts through the air.

Something's wrong.

I stared back, confused and worried. Could we have been sacked? No, that couldn't be right. Only last night Duke Wilhem agreed that my mother is truly a very good cook. But...

Then I'm swept up by Mother, who's hazel eyes were filled with tears. There were more wrinkles and creases on her tired face, and her hair was wild and straying from her userly neat bun.

"Oh Tanya...Tanya...my dear daughter...", she cried softly, clutching me to her breast. I hug her back, but I'm still confused. What is wrong? She hasn't been like this since Father died.

"Mother? Where's Evie?" I asked, worming my way out of her embrace.