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The earthiness of wooden browns and the grays of a large stone oven contrast each other beautifully, making the kitchen one of my favorite places to visit, not to mention the fresh cookies made after breakfast each morning. A flurry of flour has settled in the air, its bitterness prompting me to keep my mouth closed as I walk through.
No sooner did I begin my search for the bowl of honey when I see Aunt Margaret standing in the back pantry. Her head is bent down, whether reading or praying I’m not sure. What would my aunt be doing down in the kitchens? Slowly, I move around the corner, trying my best to emanate the stealthy, human-sized cats I learned reside in Jadeya, moving just out of her line of sight.
“Did you miss me after I left today,” I say, jumping out of a shadow.
She gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape. When Aunt Margaret sees me, she takes another deep inhale, smoothing her skirts, standing a little straighter than before as she turns to fully face me. Her widened eyes diminish to their normal size, and her stiffened body loosens again.
She takes her free hand to rub at her eyes. “I don’t know why that brings you so much pleasure.” Her eyes narrow at me, followed by a smile that matches my own. “Yes, yes. I missed you today. You left me with Lady-never-stops-talking and her tedious daughters, who seem to be having a competition on who can move the slowest.”
“A lady rises above gossip and unnecessary, scandalous conversation,” I reply, in the best impression I can do to mimic my aunt.
“Your sarcasm isn’t earning you any favors. And I promise you, it was necessary to say.” A long exhale escapes her.
My aunt has become one of my greatest confidants over the last few years. If it weren’t for her, I’m not sure I would have any clue how to be a queen. Once she heard of Evander’s passing, she cancelled all her planned visits as Ambassador of Felshan, and came to me almost straight away.
“With Evander gone the kingdom needs you, Lena. We need you to be strong. We need you to be brave. We need you to be more than you ever thought you could be until now,” she told me, a hysterical ten-year-old little girl whose entire world was flipped upside down.
It would take another two years for her to convince my mother that I needed proper training as the newly appointed Crown Princess of Felshan. Of course, that didn’t stop her from giving me lessons on the side, underneath the watchful gaze of my mother and father. Their anguish induced fragility just couldn’t take seeing their young daughter fill the role of their lost son. If it weren’t for the woman in front of me, the overwhelming burden of rising to rule a country would have been too great to bear. I shudder to think of where I would be without her.
Lady Margaret smiles at me. There’s nothing I love more than seeing her break her own rules, poking fun at the boring trio my mother decided to invite as honored guests for tonight’s events.
“It was unkind of you to call Roan a dog.” My eyes are firm, but soft around the edges. I’ve never understood why she disliked him, and I wish they would find a way to make peace with one another.
“Yes. I suppose that was underhanded.”
“Perhaps an apology when you see him next would be appropriate,” I say, eyebrows raised.
“An apology? Please, Lena. Let’s not be dramatic.”
“It’s not dramatic. It’s right.”
She takes a deep breath, one eyebrow raised while her lips press tightly together. “I’ll think about it.” I know that’s the best I’ll get from her, so I change the conversation.
“Tell me, Aunt Margaret. What brings the king’s sister down to the dark hole of the kitchen pantries?” It is strange for her to be down here. She’s not one to nab a newly baked pastry, nor is she in charge of the menu this evening.
She narrows her eyes at me as she decides what to say next. “Do I need a reason to be down here?” My aunt turns toward the door, peeking her head out and scanning from side to side before popping back in.
She’s waiting for someone. I feel a bolt of delight at the idea. A lover, perhaps? I’m no fool to her beauty and strength, or the desires usually saved for marriage. It would be natural for her to have a love interest— even a secret one since she has never married.
It’s strange to think of her this way. When my brother died, she turned into my shoulder to cry on, the kind words whispered for reassurance as I passed by, the one who went riding with me when I couldn’t take any more of the constant crying of my mother, or the ghost that my father had become. The one who came and added the finishing touches to my outfits before dinner. All the things Evander and mother used to do.
Grief had turned everything backward, and Aunt Margaret did her best to right it again. She may not be the most affectionate woman, but there are wells within a woman’s heart that run deep, often unseen by anyone exceptthe one.
She senses my distraction, using it to her advantage. “It’s getting late, and you need to go get ready. I can walk you back up and help you get dressed if you’d like.”
I’m mentally preparing to ask about her mystery man when suddenly, a girl enters the room. I’m not sure I’ve seen her here before, but it’s hard to tell without full light. There’s a familiarity with her that I can’t quite pinpoint.
Her light brown hair is tied neatly back into a braid that reaches midway down her back. She’s wearing a dark blue maid’s dress, but it doesn’t fit her quite right. I don’t know that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but she is certainly attractive. My brother would have definitely approved. Roan would approve. I tick my head to side, remembering how he’d teased me earlier about the handsome guard, Parker Aldren.
Suddenly the girl bends down, grabbing the hem of the dress and flinging it up over her head. I jump back, turning my face to shield my eyes at the scene before me. I stifle a gasp so as not to draw attention to our little pantry corner.
“Oh Ari, for heaven’s sake. It’s not that bad,” my aunt whispers sharply, raising her hands in the air and shaking her head.
“I don’t know how women wear these things all day!” the girl exclaims.
My eyes open when I hear her speak, spotting the blue dress crumpled on the floor. I expect to find her standing in her underclothes, but she’s fully clad in an entirely different outfit.
As I stare at her more attentively, I realizegirlisn’t a great assessment of her. She can’t be more than a couple years older than me, but definitely older as the sharp lines of her face boast the noticeable absence of the pudginess of youth. The way she holds herself brings an air of confidence and awe to the room. She is most definitely someone who’s won her fair share of poker games, or fights, or both. Maybe brute strength isn’t everything someone needs to take care of themselves on the streets of Turin.
