Page 12 of Tall, Royal and Grumpy
How did I fuck up so badly on the first night?
“Would you like to run through your presentation for tomorrow now or later after a rest?” Shehryar asked as he walked me up to my room—the correct one—when we returned to the palace.
“After dinner, Sher. But only very quickly,” I said. “So, go rest until then, and enjoy yourself for a few hours. And no thinking about work or messaging me work-related questions.”
His defiant posture made it seem like he was going to argue the resting thing, but his shoulders relented, and he nodded. “All right. But if you need me, Princess, you call me. Immediately.”
Ten minutes later, I came out of the room dressed in a burgundy, knitted jumper dress and leggings, and made my way down to the palace kitchen. If things with Kai hadn’t exactly gone to plan, I could at least make sure the kitchen staff were okay with me snacking my sorrows away.
Delicious smells of spices, sweetness, and fresh bread snuck into my nose as I pushed the swinging metals doors of the kitchen open, a single circular window in each one. The kitchen was a maze of industrial cookers, sinks, and silver countertops and islands dotted around, with staff everywhere creating a harmony of sizzling and clattering sounds. They were all so focused on their pre-dinner prep that no one noticed I’d entered. Until one young man came bouncing in his step towards me.
The young man’s brown eyes popped before he doubled over in a dramatic bow. “Your Highness,” he said, his grin bright and friendly. The freckles across his nose added to his boyish charm.
I returned his smile. “Hello…”
“Ah.” He practically jumped forward. “I am Michael, His Highness Prince Kai’s equerry.”
Of course. Of course, the one person I ran into for help had to be linked to the man whose attention I couldn’t grab in the right way. The world was taunting me.
“Oh, well hello, Michael. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said. “You couldn’t happen to direct me to the head chef, could you?”
A sweet frown took over his brows, crinkling his freckled nose. “Was there something wrong with any of your meals?”
“Oh, no.” I shook my head. “I simply had a question about some snacks.”
“Oh. Oh, of course then, allow me to lead the way.” He didn’t even wait a second. He spun around with a flourish and marched ahead. I followed by his side. “The head chef is Nur, and his nephew, Pierre, is the sous chef. There are two head pastry chefs. Lola is on holiday, but my husband, Roger, is here today.” He glowed as he said that. “They’re in the pantry, planning orders and meals and whatnot, so I’ll introduce you, Ma’am, to them all.”
“Nur, Pierre, Roger,” Michael called out as we reached the far right corner of the kitchen where there was a big silver door half open.
“Michael,” a man’s voice came from inside. “You only just left Roger and I cannot and will not—oh.”
In the open door of the pantry stood an older man I assumed was the head chef, Nur. He was of a sturdy build, neither short nor tall, and had the typical silver hair and ruby red eyes of someone from the Crimson Cast, with soft wrinkles around his eyes and strands of white in his hair.
His striking gaze went wide, and he stepped forward and bowed. “Your Highness.”
Two other men suddenly appeared behind him. It was quite obvious which one was Nur’s nephew.
Michael’s husband, Roger, bent his head immediately as he spotted me, but Nur’s nephew, Pierre, admired me from head to toe with his ruby red eyes. He seemed older than me, maybe close to Kai’s age, and must’ve only been half Crimson Cast, because his short, wavy hair was a silvery brown, with the faintest of freckles splashed across his light, olive-coloured skin. Pierre was tall like Kai, but leaner, more athletic, but honestly, he was objectively really handsome too.
His eyes met mine and they glinted in a mischievous, arrogant way that was insightful and funny.
The man was a flirt. He knew it. I knew it. The world knew it. And he clearly loved it.
His wide mouth stretched into a cocky, lop-sided grin as he stepped out from behind Nur and leaned over in a flourish of a bow. I couldn’t help but smile at his show as he took my hand gently in his larger, roughened fingers and brought it to his mouth, pressing the softest kiss to my knuckles.
“Crown Princess Esmeralda, what a wonderful and beautiful surprise to see you down in our kitchen; I couldn’t have wished for better company to join us,” he said and let me slip my hand from his. “I’m Pierre Farhan, the sous chef of the kitchen, so if you ever need anything, Your Highness,” —his voice dipped a tone— “you can call upon me whenever you want. I’d be more than happy to help.”
His uncle, Nur, made a choked sound. “Really now?” the older man said, sarcasm lifting the depth of his voice. “Wasn’t it just a moment ago that you said to me it was completely unfair I hadn’t given you any leave over the Peace Celebrations, and that you wanted to take a break?”
Pierre didn’t even glance across to see Nur’s incredulous expression. “I have no idea what you mean, Uncle Chef. It seems the exhaustion of age is playing with your memory. Maybe it’s time to consider retirement.”
Roger and Michael covered their amusement with coughs from where they were huddled together, and I pursed my lips together trying not to laugh as Nur’s pale skin flushed pink. “Why, you—”
A chortle burst from Pierre as he flinched away from his uncle. “I’m kidding, old man. Relax.”
“Do you know what? Go. Go now. Go check on everyone’s prep while I talk to Her Highness,” Nur instructed, waving the clipboard in his hand at Pierre like he was swatting a fly away.
“But Her Highness likes my company, don’t you?” he said and nodded himself. “It would be rude to leave when she has asked for me to stay.”
