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Chapter 11 - Palm

  One day, the crates arrived.

  The kitchen was in chaos. Nearly all the staff had been called up, the Crone had returned victorious again, from whatever war she was waging, and the spoils of battle were to be sorted immediately. Carts clattered through the courtyard. Boxes were stacked high, barrels rolled down hallways, voices shouted over one another.

  Minnie kept her head down, eyes on her work.

  But she saw it immediately, as if it tugged at her eyes.

  Her gaze landed on a particular crate, not especially large, not ornately marked, but somehow it stood out from everything else. The top was half-pried open, one corner cracked, and within she saw the gleam of little golden-brown lumps. Something in her chest gave a little jolt.

  “What are those?” she asked a passing cook, trying to keep her voice light.

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  “Dates,” he replied without pausing. “Palm tree fruit.” He was already gone, arms full of sacks.

  She stepped closer and had a better look. She didn’t know how she spotted them so quickly, but there they were, dry, wrinkled, and not remotely appetizing. They really looked like cockroaches, just as Clim had said. And curling among them, barely visible beneath the edge of the lid, was a single frond of pale, green-tipped palm.

  Her heart began to pound.

  The crate looked heavy. The other workers were giving it a wide berth. But when she bent to lift it, she realized it was lighter than it appeared.

  She hoisted it, made a show of huffing and puffing as she moved, stopping now and then to fake a rest, muttering curses under her breath like any struggling worker might. And on one of those pauses, she reached in quickly, fingers brushing over the fruit until they found the strange texture of the frond. She gave it a sharp tug, freed it from the heap, and slipped it into her apron.

  Palm.

  Her hand shook slightly as she pressed the cloth flat. Her whole body hummed with tension, but she didn’t let it show. Not yet.

  Later, she would let herself feel it. But for now, she lifted the crate again, gritted her teeth, and got back to work.

  Her last task, complete.

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