Rafia gestured across the room for me to come to her.Bless you, Rafia.I curtsied again and fled from the spotlight.
“Well, that was a mess.” I whispered to Rafia. “Can we get out of here?”
“Yes Miss.” Rafia nodded, barely concealing a smile, and together we hurried from the chamber.
It took a full hour for the flush of embarrassment to leave my face. I bathed and dressed, all the while playing over my abysmal interaction with the king—that hateful elf. Had he smirked at me? Were the king and gaggle of royals dressed in their finery laughing over the poor, hideous, crass human?
Who cared? Not me. I was over it. Nothing more to do than prepare for tomorrow.
And just like that—Rafia led me back down to the gardens to my kitchen. It was time to take a true inventory of what needed fixing.
I stepped through the front door of my kitchen and jumped to see someone sitting at the kitchen counter. Lila, as beautiful as ever in a bone white gown, save for the shadows bruising under her eyes. I enveloped Lila in a hug and she pulled me in. We stood for a while, her sitting on a stool, me with my arms around her, embracing as if we hadn’t seen each other in years. Truthfully, it felt like a fortnight since I’d been forced to come to Ravensong. So much had happened already.
“Lila.” I pulled the hair from her face. “How are you holding up?”
Lila puffed out a harsh laugh. “Well, after getting rejected so thoroughly by the king? I’m just great.”
I’d been relieved when she’d been sent away, as if it was a mark in the king’s favor. But she was devastated.
“He brought me out here. Led me to believe he’d chosen to be with me, then he just dumped me off with a servant like unloading a disgusting pile of trash.” Lila wiped at her eyes.
“Maybe he just wants to get to know you?” I offered.
Lila scoffed. “He has yet to invite me to dine. He’s shown no interest in me. Won’t even look at me.”
“So now what are you going to do?” I asked.
Lila shrugged, bottom lip protruding.
“That’s it.” I held up my magic spoon. “We need sugar.”
That got a true smile from Lila. She sat and gossiped about the staff and everything she’d been able to glean from her short time in the palace while I combined sugars and butter, vanilla and flour.
“So, your servant…” I prompted.
“Yes. Dahlia.” Lila smiled. “She’s a dear. She keeps telling me that I need to take walks to clear my head, but don’t think Ididn’t notice that she wanted to come to the same section of the gardens—right where the very handsome gardener is working.”
I smiled. This is what we both needed. Gossip and sugar. Rafia offered us a cup of hot apple cider she’d been warming.
I took a sip and smiled. “You remembered the cinnamon, Rafia. Lovely.”
Rafia beamed.
“She’s out there now collecting some chamomile,” Lila said. “Says it’ll be calming or something, but I know she’s just looking for an excuse to see Mr. Handsome Gardener.”
I giggled. “Want to help cut these cookies into hearts? For luck?”
Lila didn’t seem too eager, but nodded and took to the rolled-out dough with an unmistakable fervor. Cutting cookie dough was very definitely not a strong suit for Lila.
“You’re free, Lila,” I said, gently. “Free to do as you please. What if you hated the king? What if he’d forced you to be with him? The way I see it, you got away from a tough home situation, out of a very unwanted marriage, and now?” I tucked a strand of brown hair out of Lila’s face. “You’re free to learn who you are. You’ve always been beautiful, way too pretty!”
Lila elbowed me.
“But now you get to find out who you are,” I continued. “Not who these men—and yourmother—want you to be.”
Lila sniffed, doubt coating her voice. “Yeh, you’re right, of course.”
“But?” I asked.
