Marietta took a knife, cutting the dough into narrow strips to create the stalks of the vine pattern she had seen around the palace. Woven throughout the vine pattern, she added small leaves and placed them over the pie. To ensure the crust was golden brown when it came out of the oven, she brushed on egg mixed with water.
She slid the pie into the oven and wiped her hands off on her apron. Satisfied, she thought it was a pie she would have been proud to sell in her shop. Marietta paused, realizing the room had gone quiet as the kitchen workers all stood around her station slack-jawed.
The elven man’s mouth hung open as he asked, “Dare I ask where a noble lady learned to bake like that?”
She bit her tongue. The truth would bring more questions. Did anyone know she was a baker? Half-truths would have to work. “One of life’s greatest pleasures is making things for others to enjoy. Some ladies stitch, others paint. I prefer to bake.”
“Even so, in all my years running this kitchen, I have never once seen a noble use it.” His brows furrowed.
“By the sounds of it, I’m a first of many things for this court.” Marietta took off her apron and folded it, leaving it at the workstation.
At her table once more, Marietta ignored the gawking workers. The pie had distracted her from her hunger, which gnawed at her once more.
The kitchen blurred as the excitement passed. No one bothered Marietta as she ate, waiting for her pie to bake. Lost in her thoughts, Marietta devoured the food, thinking of her workers in Olkia. Did one of them discover Tilan’s body? That she was missing? Or did Keyain’s army march on her home before they got the chance? She sent a prayer to whatever god was listening, hoping they were okay. Each of them came to her to train, dreaming of opening their own bakeries one day.
After an hour had passed, she returned to the oven. As she pulled it out, the crust was golden brown, and the sweet scent of berries and buttery crust intoxicating. The pie was one of her best. If only she could stay to confirm it, but she needed to return. Keyain would be waiting, and he didn’t need to know about her performance in the kitchen. The elf found her as she set the pie on the counter to cool.
“It looks perfect, Lady Marietta,” he said in an incredulous voice, his brows raised.
She smiled. “I’m sorry for taking up a spot in your kitchen. Satiros has differed greatly from Olkia. But you have offered me the greatest comfort.” Her hands crossed over her chest.
“I’m happy to have brought you some relief, and I apologize. I forgot you came from Olkia. A shame what happened to it,” he said, his eyes far off as he thought. “Some friends just traveled there last year. They raved about a bakery in the downtown area. It had an absurd name, like Rising Bread, or Raisin Above something….” He rubbed his chin in thought. “I can’t remember. Does it sound familiar to you?”
“Unfortunately, no,” she replied with a sad smile, her heart cracking with the lie.
Chapter Nineteen
Marietta
Marietta left the pie for the kitchen workers to eat, confident they would love it once cooled. The servant led her back to the infirmary.
She thought baking would have helped her shake the hollow feeling in her chest, but she only missed the life she couldn’t have back. The thoughts caused her throat to tighten, so she pushed them away.
Keyain would be furious she had thwarted whatever plans he had made. Marietta didn’t care. Let him feel as much pain as he brought upon her. If possible, she would make him suffer.
The nurse who cared for her passed in the hall, wide-eyed at the sight of Marietta. She didn’t seem too surprised that she was no longer on drugs, meaning Keyain had already yelled at her.
The door of her room was ajar as she approached, the area beyond it torn apart. The mattress was bare; the sheets ripped from it, and the pillows’ feathers littered the floor. Keyain sat in the chair, his forearms on his knees. As he looked up at Marietta, he clenched his jaw, eyes burning.
No one should see this side of him, herself included. Marietta pushed the door closed behind her to hide his shame. That was the temper she remembered, the one she hated.
“Well, did you have fun?” he snapped.
“The most fun I’ve had in over a month.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the door.
The reddened skin along his neck flushed a shade deeper. “Found the Queen’s little note.” How Keyain had known it was from Queen Valeriya was beyond her. Perhaps it was her handwriting or the words she shared in the garden.
Marietta stared at Keyain, forcing him to speak. “Anything to say for yourself?” he asked.
“Do you think I want to live my life drugged beyond comprehension in Satiros? Being the brainless wife of some warlord?” Marietta tilted her head as she spoke to him.
“Minister of Protection,” he ground out, “and I did it to protect you.”
“Protect me? You had me attacked in my home. I watched your soldiers slit my husband’s—my actual husband’s—throat. And you dare tell me you’re protecting me?”
A sigh escaped his mouth as he rose to his feet. “If you knew the truth, you’d choose to be drugged. Unless you want your knowledge of Enomenos used in the next attack.”
“What are you talking about?”
