I took inventory of the grimy kitchen’s pots, pans, and trays in the waning light of day. Rafia took note of equipment torepair or replace and sent the servants scattering to complete her commands.
“Truly, all I need is a bowl and some trays to cook the cinnamon rolls.” I could make do with my “magic spoon” until I had more to work with. Daisy’s little carved heart on the handle of the spoon was a painful reminder of the life I was forced to leave behind. Rafia, Gale, Isola, and I worked until well after midnight in the almost cozy kitchen, wiping down wooden and marble tabletops and organizing the supplies that Gale and Isola continued to pilfer from the royal kitchens.
It wasn’t long until I collapsed in the overstuffed couch by the fireplace in exhaustion.
Only a few hours of sleep, and I’d be up baking.
7
SUGAR CURE
Atrill of birdsong filtered in through the dust-streaked windows and I awoke. I checked the small clock on the wall that assured me I was up when I needed to be, so used to the dark early morning hours of baking.
I’d fallen asleep in a tidy little sitting area tucked away to the side of the kitchen. Inside the small parlor, I’d been pleased to find a cozy bricked fireplace, two large fluffy couches, and several shelves filled with all kinds of books, both for cooking and…romance. Mother never let me read her romance books, claiming I was too young to appreciate them. I smiled as I fingered through the pages of a novel. I couldn’t wait to finish these rolls so I could curl up on this couch and read.
But first, fifty cinnamon rolls for the king and his household. Simple, though my worktable leg broke halfway through kneading my dough and the oven took way too long to heat. It needed a real cleaning.
Being in here among familiar, broken and human items, I could almost forget I was in the land of the elves until I glanced out of the windows into the rising dawn. Oranges and pinkspainted the sky through the misting fog. I stepped out of my front door into a glorious sunrise, unlike anything I’d seen in the mortal realm. The gardens glistened with dew-like crystals gilding their tender leaves and swollen fruits. Rows and rows of beautiful produce surrounded me like a maze from a fantasy. Behind me, the back of the white castle rose to the sky as if embracing it. The stone glittered in the morning light. The walls had turrets and balconies for the residents inside. Hundreds of them. It would take weeks for me to find my room again.
There was a scraping, scuffling sound right outside my kitchen, to the left. My heart quickened. Could it be that danger Rafia warned me about?
A figure materialized afar off through the lifting fog, a large basket on her hip. “Ah Miss, good to see you up.”
I drooped in relief and waved at Rafia, grateful to no longer be alone in the gardens. That noise had probably been some adorable out-of-season bird collecting branches for its nest. Rafia followed me in and placed her large basket on the marble countertop. “Vanilla and cinnamon, as ordered. The other spices were not in the storehouse.” Rafia bit her lip.
Disappointment churned in my gut. Great. My first order will be very plain. The nutmeg and cardamom took the rolls to the next level. “It’s alright, we’ll just have to make do with what we have.”
“I did find a few other spices, though I’m not sure if they’ll do anything for what you need.” Rafia lifted the towel from her bounty.
“Hmm. Allspice, cloves, and ginger.” I smelled the fragrances from each blown glass bottle. “This ginger might be just what we need.”
I made two small test cinnamon and ginger rolls and waited for the results. Rafia and I both agreed. They were incredible. A beautiful balance. I wanted to add some chopped apples to theginger mixture, but held myself back. I’d been asked to produce cinnamon rolls and cinnamon rolls were what I’d serve.
With practiced hands, I finished icing the rolls, just in time to get them to the king. Rafia led our confectionary procession up to the royal breakfast chamber. Gale and Isola pushed large marble serving trays on gilded wheels. They didn’t talk much, but moved with a strength and grace I was grateful to hand over this task to.
My heart pounded from my chest as we crested the stairs to the royal serving chamber. The beautiful, bright room sat in the exact center of the palace, facing the back gardens. A perfect spot to enjoy the morning sunrise. Rafia and I placed the rolls on the serving table while Gale and Isola laid out golden utensils and napkins on the many small breakfast tables. These tables were dotted throughout the wide room, affording intimate conversation and a spectacular view of the gardens. Other servants set out bowls of freshly cut fruits, eggs, and delicious meats. The smell caused my stomach to rumble excitedly, but I was not a guest here.
Well, maybe just one small slice of bacon. I reached for a stray piece when I thought no one was watching and?—
“Little Baker.” The Elf King’s deep voice rumbled from only inches behind me.
Heat burned my cheeks as I spun, bacon protruding halfway out of my mouth. I grabbed it and stuffed the uneaten half in my apron pocket praying he didn’t notice. The Elf King towered over me. I resisted the urge to take a step back.
“The first bite of breakfast is reserved for the king.” The Elf King stated, eyes on my apron pocket.
“Oh, I, uh, well…” I stammered, feeling the gaze of everyone shooting darts at me. Somehow, the king and his entire retinue had entered at the very moment I was stuffing my face with bacon.
Aldaar hopped over and pulled the other half of bacon from my apron pocket. “Here you go, brother.” He held the bacon out to the king. “Still warm.”
My face burned as if on fire. I was going to die right then and there.
A smirk lifted the corner of the king’s mouth slightly, then was gone in a flash. “Thank you, Aldaar.”
He accepted the half-eaten piece of bacon Aldaar laid onto his plate—to my ever-living shame. I wanted to bolt from the room, but hadn’t been properly dismissed. All eyes pinned me to the spot.
“Your cinnamon rolls, majesty.” I gestured to the beautifully puffed and frosted rolls, anything to distract from the hostile stares. I curtsied, which was clumsy seeing as I’d hardly ever performed the gesture. Then I remembered I’d slept by the fire all night and baked all morning and hadn’t taken a moment to look over my appearance. My hair, face and dress must be a flour and ash coated mess.
“Thank you, baker.” The king inclined his head. A signal to go?
