"Does Prince Willem's household not tell you what they like?" I ask as I stab a piece of duck with my fork and taste it. I pull a face without meaning to.
Nate laughs. "Not your thing?"
"It's not Chef Stephens' fault," I respond. "It's the sauce, I don't like the way it feels on my tongue."
"I should have known."
"It's fine," I assure him. "I don't have to personally like everything that we serve. I think Father will like this dish."
"Pleasing the King is probably high up the list of things we should be doing," he muses.
"Yes, probably."
"Well, you'll be glad to know that's the savoury food tasted."
"Does that mean I get to try what you've made for the banquet?"
"It does." He clears away the duck dish and places another covered plate in front of me. He pulls off the lid and reveals what looks like a cake with nuts around the outside, and fruit and rosettes of whipped cream on the top, artfully laid out in the way only a master baker like Nate would be able to pull off.
Admiration for him flows through me. "It's beautiful," I whisper.
"It's meant to be," he says.
"What is it?"
"Slagroomtaart," he says.
"That's a funny name."
He laughs. "It just means whipped cream cake."
"I thought you said it was a tart?"
"Taart," he corrects, lengthening the a as he does. "It's the word they use for cake in Wafeland."
"Why would they call a cake a tart? That's just confusing?"
He laughs. "That's just what they call it."
"What do they call actual tarts?"
"Depends on the tart," he responds. "Apple tart is appeltaart."
"Well, that's just confusing," I respond with a hint of exasperation.
His laughter makes me laugh too.
"Never change, Evie," he says.
Footsteps sound at the entrance to the kitchen, and I look up to find Nate's father in the doorway, killing the amusement that had been hanging between us. Nate straightens up, seeming a lot more uncomfortable than when it's just the two of us.
"Chef Matthews," I say with a polite nod. I hope he didn't hear Nate calling me Evie. He's said before that his father doesn't like it, even if I have no idea why.
"Your Highness," he responds, an unreadable expression on his face. It becomes even more so when his gaze drifts to his son. "I brought the cheesecake."
"Thank you," Nate responds. "Princess Evelyn is trying the food we're planning on serving for the banquet and giving feedback."
"Hmm." His father enters the room and sets the plate down on the table with a little more force than is strictly necessary.
