“Kallias.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. After a moment, she dropped her gaze to her papers, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I hope it goes well for you.”
I spiraled down the Cireendium staircase to the kitchen. Warm scents rose—rich broths, fresh bread. The air thickened with steam from bubbling pots. Laughter and clattering metal echoed through the kitchens.
“Nienna—Your Majesty!” Gertrude waved me over, her apron dusted with flour. She bowed, then pulled a small sack from her pocket. “These were tucked behind the pantry. Are they your beans?”
I took the bag, ran my thumb across the faded lettering.‘Kahve’stood out in half-smudged print.
“Yes! These are the beans!”
“This note was with them.” She unfolded a scrap of paper. “It says to sweeten and serve with cream. Cuts the acidity.”
“Can you brew it?”
“I’ll have it in a blink!” She pressed a pastry into my hand. “You must be starving after last night.”
I choked on a laugh.
She paled, flushing crimson. “Oh—no disrespect intended! I just meant… you didn’t eat much at dinner.”
Biting back a grin to capture my mirth, I took the treat with a nod and let her retreat in peace.
Apples filled the crisp—tart and sweet. The sugar on top crunched between my teeth. Its buttery crust reminded me of Radaan and all the different meals there. I wondered what Kallias made of our food. Compared to the continent, Draconia’s dishes were humble—simple in taste.
Moments later, Gertrude returned with a mug, steam curling above the rim.
The liquid wasn’t dark like it should’ve been. Instead, it held a soft, milky hue. Familiar scent—earthy and sharp—rose from the cup, tempered by a hint of sweetness.
With a thank-you, I carried it to our rooms, eager to share it with him.
He sat at the desk, papers fanned in disarray.
“You’re late,” he grumbled as I shut the door. He didn’t look up, only separated one sheet from the rest and set it aside.
“For good reason,” I said, settling on the desk’s edge.
He glanced at the mug, frowning as he shuffled through another stack. “One moment.”
I stayed quiet, inching my knee toward his. The front panel of my dress slipped between my legs, revealing pale leggings. His hand found my thigh, hooked it closer, fingers firm as he continued sorting.
Inventories. Schedules. Rough maps and half-scrawled dates.
At last, he sighed and leaned back. “Now. What is it you have for me?”
“Kahve.” I grinned, holding the cup out.
He looked into the mug like it held poison. “Perhaps it’s better to keep the drink in Radaan.”
“No.” I laughed. “The cook found a proper bag this time. That other batch was steeped with beans from your ship.”
“You made tea from black beans.” He grimaced, then shuddered. “That should be considered treason.” He sniffed the drink’s contents, swirled it. “Kahve’s not usually so pale.”
“Gertrude found a note. Says it’s best with cream and honey.”
“Did you try it?”
My brows pulled together. “I’ve never liked it to begin with.”
