Page 31
Kaera seizes the moment to finish the matter, her commanding posture returning. “You heard her, Gavin. Take your squires and go check the delivery wagons at the outer gate right now. Iris, go with them and make sure the count is done correctly this time. I want a new report on my table before noon.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Iris replies smoothly, giving Elara a look of appreciation before turning around.
Gavin offers a brief bow and exits, Iris and the other guards close behind. The loud clatter of their heavy boots fades down the corridor, leaving the lower kitchen in quiet once again. The chefs and servants let out a collective breath, slowly returning to their workstations to handle the preparation tables.
Kaera turns to Elara, her cold expression melting into a wide, bright smile that brings back her familiar warmth. She places a hand on Elara’s shoulder, a gesture that breaks the last of the boundaries between them. “I cannot thank you enough,” she says. “I did not expect you to stand up for me like that. You handled him perfectly.”
Elara returns the smile, her heart warming at the praise. “I only said what I know is true. My father’s men did the exact same thing back at the castle. However, my legs were trembling the entire time.”
Kaera nods. “Absolutely. When you force yourself to remain stern or neutral, acting completely unlike your usual self, you can barely believe the words come from your own mouth.” A pause follows, her gaze shifting to the chefs who relax and resume their quiet conversation, before continuing. “It makes your body weak. Your mind races, overthinking whether what you did was right or wrong. Your knees almost buckle.”
Elara raises her eyebrows. Her body is weak from the adrenaline, even as the panic clears. Her hand clutches the hidden seed pouch Asma gave her earlier as she replies. “I feel it.”
“Yes, I apologize,” Kaera exhales softly. “It is frightening at first. You did amazing, nonetheless.”
“Thank you,” Elara says. “Gavin’s commentary was harsh and unnecessary. You bake beautifully, and I am sure of it just from the cookies you gave earlier.”
Kaera’s cheeks redden again. “Maybe we can bake together next time! Perhaps a cake or cookies?”
“I would love that. We should make different flavored cookies,” she suggests nervously, her shoulders shrugging with curiosity.
“I would love that,” Kaera nods, right before one of the female bakers approaches her with a kind smile.
“Your Highness, we would love for you to suggest what dessert to make for the evening,” one of the baker’s insist.
“His Majesty has already ordered the pastries for the upcoming feast, but we would love your opinion on the flavor combinations,” the other baker explains, bowing respectfully. “We know you possess excellent taste in sweets, and your guidance would ensure the execution is perfect.”
Turning with her smile growing further, Kaera inclines her head excitedly. “Of course, I will be with you in a bit.” She looks at Elara with a slight raise of one eyebrow, a silent request to accompany her.
Elara’s face lights up for a moment, but she frowns the next. “I am sorry, I wish to rest.”
Kaera’s smile fades, though it remains warm. “That is fine. Please rest well, and you can come down here any time.”
Elara shares one last smile before stepping out of the kitchen, making her way back to her bedchamber. Without losing a second, Elara races to the vanity, pulling out Cael’s booklet. With a tight swallow down her throat, she opens the leather cover and turns to the second page.
I bear the sorrow of each dawn and night,
Praying the cruel world to grant my spirit strength.
Met with cold malice despite this hollow wealth,
Cruel whispers steal all my peace away.
Only the memory of the girl I once met,
Guides my dark soul and keeps my purpose true.
I live to see her gentle light return,
Sustaining this ghost until our paths align.
Elara sits by the edge of her bed, her eyes focusing on the handwriting and the words of pain written beautifully across the vintage paper, her heart aching. Cael’s suffering from his silence, enduring his people’s hatred toward him for something he cannot stop or control, brings a familiar pain through her.
Closing the booklet to let the new poem sink in, she picks up the second volume Elias provided. Opening the stiff, thick cover, so different from the soft, worn booklet, she starts to read.
Though her focus continues to drift.
XIV
