Page 55 of Onyx Cage: Volume II
My interactions with Korhonan had been limited since my arrival. Mostly, I tried to stay away from him and all of the fury he inspired. He had been cordial, of course, aside from a few scattered glares here and there.
In this rare, unguarded moment, I could almost remember what it was like to think of him as a friend. Then, he shook his head, returning to his food like he had pushed whatever suspicion he was forming right out of his head, and all at once, I remembered what it was to exist on the other side of his impeccable ability to lie to himself.
He could play the part of the doting hero all he wanted, but his ignorance could have gotten my lemmikki killed. Let alone the price I had paid for it all those years ago.
It was hardly my fault if he was finally putting together what had been obvious from the day she agreed to marry him at the Summit. Rowan didn’t belong to him.
Not then, and sure as hell not now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
We went straight from breakfast to the kitchens.
Light filtered in through the small windows near the ceiling, casting a golden hue over the warm stone bricks lining the walls. Even if I couldn’t see the larger, proper kitchen through the narrow doorway at the far end of the room, I would have suspected this one belonged to Rowan’s mother.
There was something almost homey about the space. Fresh herbs grew in pots that hung from the ceiling, their vines spilling haphazardly from the pottery.
Which made no sense, so I chalked it up to whatever breeze she stirred with her quick steps around the room. She was clearly familiar with the kitchen and wasted no time at all throwing on an apron and tying back her long, dark tresses.
Avani and Rowan followed suit, proving once again that they, too, were familiar with the process. I briefly tried to imagine Ava doing the same thing, wondering if she could ever allow herself to be so casual with a task that was beneath her station before deciding this was unique to the queen’s side of the family.
Once we washed up, aprons in place, Queen Charlotte gave us each our marching orders.
“Avani and I will start preparing the dry ingredients. Rowan, can you show Lord Theodore to the storeroom? And Lord Evander, could you begin peeling those apples?” She pointed to a large basket on the floor filled to the brim with large pale pink apples with golden stripes.
It was interesting, the way she switched from formal to maternal without seeming to realize, but I nodded nonetheless, picking up the knife on the table.
Avani was already busy measuring out spices from the canisters on the long wooden countertop, and Rowan stood in the doorway next to Korhonan. Her scrutiny was as obvious as every other emotion that flitted across her features, but I set about my task like I didn’t feel the weight of her gaze burning through my skin.
Socairan dukes-in-training didn’t exactly take shifts in the kitchen, so my knowledge of food preparation was decidedly lacking. While I had learned throughout the past week that Lochlannians could be finicky in their tastes, Socairans did not alter the food as it was presented to them on their plate. Nor could we justify the waste of a perfectly edible part of an apple.
Still, precision with a knife was nothing new to me, and it wasn’t a stretch to apply my particular skill set to the fruit before me.
I had deftly managed to strip the entire apple without breaking the peel before realizing I had no idea where it went.
“What do you do with the peel?” Though I strove to keep my tone even, I had to wonder if they tossed it out in a waste heap somewhere.
“Just put it in the bucket right there,” the queen pointed to an empty steel container.
“None of it goes to waste,” Rowan added, her tone…softer than usual. “They split it between the cattle and the pigs.”
I nodded, vanquishing memories of a singularly spoiled princess setting down her butterknife to allow my men to enjoy more of what was a rare luxury for them. When she was glaring and posturing and fuming, it was easy to forget the pieces of herself she had revealed over her long weeks at Bear.
Or maybe it was just easier, period, not to remember a version of her that had been selfless and funny andreal. The one who had done what she could to keep my people safe and fed, and even happy, when the opportunity presented itself.
Then again, wasn’t that why I was standing in a kitchen peeling an endless bushel of apples instead of sitting back at Bear while Taras negotiated a perfectly acceptable trade agreement?
“So where do we start?” The intrusion of Korhonan’s voice on my thoughts made me consider putting some of my other knife skills to use, but I kept my attention fixed on the new apple I had pulled from the barrel.
“Flour,” Rowan murmured, turning to go and breaking her stare at last.
The next hour passed in a blur of spiraling apples along with the backdrop of Rowan’s idle chatter and occasional giggle while she and Korhonan walked back and forth from the larder. More than one reference was made to his biceps by both parties involved, and I had to remind myself how precious food was to my kingdom to avoid expelling all of my breakfast.
Avani was predictably quiet, appearing to be lost in a rare moment of peace, and Queen Charlotte surprised me somewhat by following her lead. The rest of the staff must have been dismissed, because we were the only five people in the vast kitchens, something Korhonan felt the need to comment on.
“So,” he said on one of his many trips hauling bags of flour around, “I have to say, it was one thing hearing that you made pastries for the festival every year, but it’s another seeing thework that goes into it. Wouldn’t it be easier to let the cooks handle this?”
“Easier, probably,” the queen responded. “But Avani and I love baking.”