Chapter 2: Chapter 1

The late afternoon sun poured over the Carlton estate like molten gold, its rays spilling across the meticulously trimmed hedges and sprawling cobblestone courtyard. A breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the mingling scents of lavender and roses, so thick and heady it felt like the garden itself was breathing. Bees buzzed lazily from bloom to bloom, their hum a quiet backdrop to the symphony of rustling leaves and distant bird calls.

It was the kind of place where time stretched out languidly, where girls in white lace dresses might sit beneath parasols, sipping tea as though the world beyond the garden's edge didn't exist. It was the kind of place meant for someone like Madeline Carlton.

Queenie Weston, or Q as she insisted everyone call her, was not that someone.

She hung upside down from the lowest branch of the apple tree, her knees hooked over the rough bark, her red curls falling in wild tangles. A glass jar dangled from her fingers, its contents clinking softly as she swung. A pale blue beetle crawled along the edge of a leaf within her reach, its iridescent shell catching the sunlight.

"Stay right there, little guy," she whispered, inching closer. Her fingers grazed the edge of the leaf, and with a quick flick, she trapped the beetle in the jar. She grinned triumphantly, holding it aloft. "Gotcha!"

"Do you ever plan on acting your age?" came a voice from below. Calm. Measured. Unimpressed.

Q tilted her head, her upside-down gaze falling on Madeline—or Maddy, as she insisted on calling her, much to Maddy's irritation. Seated beneath the shade of an iron-wrought chair, Maddy was the picture of composure. Her blonde curls framed her face perfectly, not a strand out of place, and the crisp white of her dress caught not a single smudge. A leather-bound book rested in her lap, its pages thick and yellowed, and beside her, a delicate china teacup balanced on a saucer, the tea still steaming.

"Act my age?" Q scoffed, swinging herself upright and dropping from the branch with a graceless thud. She brushed dirt from her patched skirt, her grin unbothered. "Pretty sure being eighteen means I can catch bugs whenever I want."

She thrust the jar toward Maddy, who didn't flinch.

"Look at this beauty, Maddy. Mr. Havers says these things bring luck to farms. Rare as anything."

Maddy glanced at the jar with a faint wrinkle of her nose before returning to her book.

"Somehow, I doubt a beetle will solve your farm's problems more efficiently than fixing that fence your chickens keep escaping through."

"Shows what you know." Q tucked the jar into the pocket of her apron. "Not everything has to be practical and boring, you know. Not everything has to be about books."

"And not everything has to involve dirt," Maddy countered, lifting her teacup with deliberate grace. "But I suppose that would be asking too much of you."

Q rolled her eyes and crouched in the grass, her fingers tracing the line of ants marching along the edge of the stone path.

"It's a miracle we're even friends, huh?"

"Undoubtedly."

They couldn't have been more different if they tried. Q, with her quick tongue and rough hands, always smelled faintly of earth and hay, as though the farm had claimed her as its own. Maddy, with her poised elegance, carried the air of someone born to finer things, her words, her movements, her very presence belonged to the quiet, polished corners of the world.

And yet, for reasons neither could fully articulate, their friendship had endured. It had weathered the inevitable clashes, the teasing, and the unspoken gulf between their lives. Q had always assumed it would weather anything.

That assumption faltered the moment Maddy spoke again.

"I received a letter this morning." Maddy said, her tone carefully neutral.

Q glanced up, brushing her hands against her apron. "Yeah? From who?"

Maddy hesitated, a rarity. Her fingers smoothed the hem of her skirt, though it didn't need smoothing, and her voice softened.

"From the Royal Ascension Princess School."

The words fell like stones into the tranquil quiet of the garden. Q blinked, certain she hadn't heard correctly.

"The what now?"

"The Royal Ascension Princess School," Maddy repeated, her composure returning with each word. "They've accepted me. I leave at the end of the week."

The weight of it hit Q like a punch to the chest. Her breath caught, her knees buckling slightly as she sank onto the grass. The beetle jar tumbled from her pocket, rolling away, forgotten.

"You're leaving?"

Maddy's lips pressed into a thin line, her posture still impossibly straight.

"It's not forever."

"But it's long enough." Q's voice cracked, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "You're leaving me."

The tears came suddenly, hot and unstoppable, streaking down her dirt-smudged cheeks. She swiped at them angrily, hating the vulnerability of it. Hating how final the word leaving sounded when Maddy said it.

Maddy set her book aside and knelt beside her, the folds of her dress brushing against the grass. She reached out, hesitant, and took Q's hand in hers.

"Don't cry," she said softly. "We'll write letters."

"Letters?" Q pulled her hand free, her voice thick with frustration. "How's a letter supposed to replace this? The garden? The bugs? Us?"

Maddy's composure faltered, just slightly. She looked away, her gaze drifting toward the horizon where the sun dipped lower, staining the sky with hues of amber and rose.

"I don't want to leave you behind," she said finally. "But this is… important. It's the opportunity of a lifetime."

"For you," Q bit out. "Not for me."

The silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding. Somewhere, a cricket chirped tentatively, its song rising with the approaching evening. Q stared at her hands, dirt caked beneath her nails, and wondered what she was supposed to do without Maddy's steady presence beside her.

"What if you forget me?"

Maddy's breath hitched, and for the first time, the certainty in her gaze wavered. She reached for Q's hand again, holding it tightly.

"I won't."

"But what if you do?" Q pressed. "What if you meet all those fancy girls, and they're everything I'm not?"

Maddy smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You're my best friend, Q. No one else could ever take your place."

The words were meant to be comforting, but they felt like a promise too fragile to hold. Q wanted to believe them. She wanted to believe that some bond between them could withstand the distance, the time, the changes that were already beginning to pull at the edges of their lives.

But as the garden fell into shadow and the sun sank below the trees, all Q could feel was the quiet ache of knowing everything was about to change.