She freezes as my thumb swipes across the red apple of her cheek. I moved without thinking.
“You had a little flour,” I tell her, my voice coming out raspy.
For a moment, I’m lost in the double image of her eyes—the sapphire blue of her illusion overlaying the deeper aubergine—with my hand still cupped on her cheek. Both versions of her are stunning.
Even in these simple clothes, doing something as mundane as cooking, she’s graceful and regal. More than that, though, she’s been sincere with me, eager to learn. She’s funny when she lets herself relax, especially when she surprises herself and her cheeks turn pink. A quaint cottage kitchen is as dazzling as any palace with her laugh and effortless beauty to brighten it.
This is why I need to keep myself in check, remember that this is all pretend. Someone like her would never associate with someone like me in the real world, and daydreaming won’t change that.
Fortunately, Hugo’s warning snuffles sound down the hall before my body can get any other wrong ideas. “I, uh, should go get Eevi. You can mix the two flours and salt together while I’m gone.”
I flee from her unreadable expression, grateful to escape to the warm sleep-smell of the bedroom to compose myself.
Chapter 13
Talvie
Lark finishes showing me how to fold the simple rye dough around the rice filling, sealing each Karelian pie with careful crinkle folds. We get them into the oven just in time for the kids to come barreling through the door.
They must have stopped to collect Aili because she enters with them, her nose wrinkling as she sniffs the air. “Oh, that actually smells good.”
Lark taps her nose. “We’ll trade you a fresh Karelian pie for a smile.”
The resulting tooth-baring sneer makes us both laugh.
“Close enough,” Lark says, then glances at me. “Although it’s up to Val, really. She’s the one who made them.”
“What, no. I didn’t—” I don’t deserve the credit when Lark did all the real work. “Of course, you can all have them. I didn’t really—I couldn’t have done it without your help. I would have burned the place down.”
“Wouldn’t be our first fire,” Johannes mutters, while Juani silently points a finger at Helkki behind her back.
“I’d love a Karelian pie,” Katja says appreciatively.
Mikael, still big and intimidating, hums his agreement from the doorway.
Lark finalizes the matter with a sharp clap of his hands. “Good. Because we’re going to be doing more cooking around here to stretch our funds and our stay.” He wipes his hands on a cloth. “In fact, I need to go talk to Daria about cutting the meal plan, but first, we need to tell you all something.”
He inhales dramatically and then takes my hand.
What is he…?
Before I can move, he lifts my fingers to his lips and presses a kiss to them. Warmth burns into the spot, leaving my fingers tingling for far too long after.
“We’re to be married,” he pronounces.
A heartbeat of silence.
I blink. My breath freezes.
Then the room erupts.
The kids all talk over each other—Katja steps back with narrowed eyes, Aili whines a long run-on question, while Johannes whispers something to Juani, capped by a sneeze in his brother’s ear. Juani curses.
Helkki barks question after question, bouncing on her toes. “Are you in love? Didn’t you just meet? Does this mean we’re moving? Will we live with Val’s family? Oh, are we going to the Sundalands? When is the wedding? Can I carry flowers? Ooh, can the flowers be on fire?”
Eventually, Lark can’t take it anymore and drops his mask. While he drowns in laughter, I’m reeling, heat surging up my neck to my face.
I didnotfall for his tricks, not even for an instant.
