Page 47 of Crimson Kingdom
I, at least, owed it to both of us to try a little harder than I had been, and staring at Evander wasn’t helping, nor was it going to make him any less of anaalio.
“See, you’re uniquely qualified for this job, whether you’ve been in the kitchens before or not,” I assured Theo.
“I’m glad you can put my man-labor to some use.” He shot me one of his dazzling smiles.
Once again, I couldn’t help but return it. And once again, I couldn’t help but reflect on how peaceful life could be if we could just get through this week.
We made several more trips for ingredients. Mostly, I was only here for the purpose of directing Theo on what to carry, something he teased me about relentlessly.
“So,” he said as we returned to the kitchens. “I have to say, it was one thing hearing that you made pastries for the festival every year, but it’s another seeing the work that goes into it. Wouldn’t it be easier to let the cooks handle this?”
“Easier, probably,” my mother admitted, “but Avani and I love baking.”
Evander cleared his throat pointedly at her omission of me, and she shot him an amused look like the turncoat she was.
“And it means something to the people,” she continued. “When we give them something we’ve made with our own hands. Of course, the kitchen staff will help also, considering the scope of the work, but a majority of it comes from us.”
“That’s a tradition worth carrying to Socair,” Theo said earnestly.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that this would in no way be fun without my family, and no one in Socair wanted me baking their desserts. So, I just made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat.
“Lord Theo, could I put those muscles of yours to use in the storage cellar for a moment?” my mother asked.
Theo gave a low chuckle.
“There are more of you,” he whispered, before saying in a louder voice, “Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Lord Evander, you can take a break from the apples to help Rowan.” Subtle, she was not.
I shot her an irritated look that she pretended not to notice.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” he echoed Theo’s sentiment in a bland voice, coming to stand a few feet from me.
Mamá and Theo disappeared down the hall. I sighed, pointing to the wooden bowls I had just set out and listing what needed to go in each of them. He nodded, and we worked without speaking.
Avani studiously ignored us both, though that could have been because she was caught up in her own world, in memories of Mac joining us here for every festival for years.
She wasn’t the only one. Between missing my big brother and this mess I had landed myself in, my chest ached, and it was an effort to keep the emotions from my face.
Working with Evander was, at least, a seamless process. He measured out some ingredients while I gathered others. If I needed a particularly stubborn jar opened, I held it out and he wordlessly twisted the lid before handing it back.
Everything was going as well as could be expected until I spun around to grab a whisk at the exact same time he reached for the salt block on the shelf over my head.
My face collided with his chest, and I made the mistake of inhaling.
All at once, it hit me.
His familiar scent. Smokey and earthy and just a little bit sweet.
It was the way his bed had smelled for the weeks I spent nearly every waking moment there.
The way he had smelled when I had slept cradled in his arms the night before Da’ came.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my throat clogging and tears stabbing at the back of my eyes.
Evander froze, his solid body only inches from mine.
He peered down at me through those storm-cloud eyes, a rare bit of softness taking over his expression. “Lemmikki--”