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As this was an official welcome banquet, her nephews were eating elsewhere. And probably having more fun. What was it about official dinners that gave everyone such long faces? They hadn’t even finished the soup course yet, and the conversation had dwindled to nearly nothing while everyone picked at their food, if it was possible to pick at soup.
Maybe having a fancy dinner their first day there after taking a train through the night hadn’t been the best idea. But time wasn’t on their side. Tomorrow, they would launch straight into meetings and visiting Parliament.
Essie tapped her foot on the floor. Everyone in this room was family, at least to her. Even if they were going to talk about war and weapons and traitors later on, they didn’t have to be stuffy now. “So...Mother and Paige. How has the new shampoo and conditioner been working?”
“I love it. My hair has never felt this good.” Paige ran her fingers over her pinned curls. “No wonder elves wear their hair down all the time, if it feels like this.”
Edmund swiped a hand over his short-cropped, brown hair. “It’s done wonders for my hair. Can’t you tell how sleek it is?”
Julien nudged Edmund and ran his fingers over his beard. “My beard has never felt this good.”
Now this was the family banter Essie was used to.
Jalissa sniffed and set down her spoon, nudging her soup a little farther away from herself. “We elves do not wear our hair long for petty reasons.”
And her family had managed to offend the elves. Already.
The serving staff whisked away their bowls of soup—both finished and unfinished—and replaced them with plates of steamed and seasoned vegetables.
Spices. Seasoning. Essie stuffed a bite in her mouth with only minimal blowing to cool it down first. She closed her eyes, savoring the burst of flavor on her tongue. How she’d missed seasonings like this. The elven dishes were flavored with little to no seasoning, making them plain and somewhat bland most of the time.
Beside her, Farrendel made a small choking sound. She glanced over at him in time to see him swallow, eyes watering, as if he’d just eaten one of the hot peppers that grew in the southern kingdoms.
These spices weren’t that hot. They weren’t even the spicy kind of spice. Just normal spice.
Unless...Essie eyed Jalissa as the elf tried to surreptitiously scrape the spices from the vegetables. Elves had sensitive hearing and smell. Why not sensitive taste as well? That would explain why their foods were so bland. They didn’t taste bland to elves.
She leaned closer to Farrendel. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
He breathed out a sigh and pushed the plate a little farther from him. Averett was glancing between Farrendel and Jalissa, as if he sensed something was wrong but didn’t know what it was.
Essie pushed her chair from the table and stood. “I’ll be back in just a moment.” As she passed Averett, she whispered, “I’ll take care of it.”
Hopefully he understood what she meant and would relax instead of worry.
Essie hurried down the main corridor. It would’ve been quicker to take the servants’ hall that connected the dining room directly with the kitchen, but it was narrow, and Essie didn’t want to get in the servers’ way. They were already working hard enough to put on this fancy meal without having their princess bumbling into them.
After hurrying down a short section of stairs, she pushed the door open into the kitchen. The clanging, bustling, whistling, hissing, shouting, sizzling clamor of the kitchen smacked into her along with a wave of heat and mouth-watering aromas.
“Princess Essie!”
Essie blinked away the cloud of steam in time to see Head Chef Figo barreling toward her. He was tall and lean as a whip, probably due to his habit of running to stay in shape. His hair streaked with gray at the temples, but the lines on his face were more from smiling than age.
He stopped short of hugging her and swept an elaborate bow instead. “Welcome back to my kitchen, princess.”
“How I’ve missed your cooking.” Essie resisted the urge to give him a hug.
“I’ve heard elven cooking leaves much to be desired.” Chef Figo shook his head. “My servers tell me your elf husband doesn’t seem to appreciate my cooking.”
“That’s why I’m here, actually.” Essie tried to think of a polite way of phrasing it. She didn’t want to offend Chef Figo or make the elves sound rude. “Elven food tends to be bland and use very little spices. I thought that was just how they preferred to cook, but I realized tonight that elves have a more sensitive sense of taste than we humans do. A little spice goes a long way for them. So what tastes good for us humans is overwhelming for them.”
“Ah, I see.” Chef Figo nodded, looking over at the pieces of steak, laid out in preparation for the main course. “I shall see their dishes as a challenge to create masterpieces without spices.”
“Thank you. I know they will love your cooking once the level of spices is no longer overpowering for them.” Essie breathed in a deep breath of the savory aromas filling the kitchen. “After tasting your cooking again, I’m going to miss it all the more when I return to Estyra.”
“I will give you a list of spices to purchase.” Chef Figo gave her a wink. “Perhaps you can teach the elves to cook properly.”
“That would be wonderful. Even if I have to sprinkle the spices on once the plate is set before me, it will be worth it.” Essie’s mouth watered as another wave of delicious smells reached her.
