“I’m so sorry. When did this happen?” I asked.
“Mother died in the spring and Father died last winter.” Aldaar’s chin quivered. “The shadow sickness took him.”
“Your mother, too?”
“She lived to six hundred and twenty years,” Aldaar said proudly, “one of the oldest of our family.”
I blinked, trying to understand the vast and long-lived world of the elves, so foreign to my human existence.
“So now Elden has to be a boring grown up elf.” Aldaar poked the pie dough with his fine finger.
So, the Elf King was the son of the king, not the same one who’d taken maiden after maiden for hundreds of years. And both his mother and father had died. I didn’t think the elves could die. Lore told of fair folk living centuries long, staying youthful and deadly beautiful even as their minds grew crafty and sharp. Wasn’t Ravensong called the Undying Lands? I wondered if the king’s shadow sickness had to do with the blackness my friend Sam told me about—the one killing plant and livestock in the human realm, or the blight Jel was studying. Or if all three were one and the same.
“I’m sorry, Aldaar.” I wiped my floured hand on my apron and placed it on his shoulder. “I hope these delicious tarts will bring you and the king some peace. I know it can be hard to have to grow up so fast. Give your brother time. This is new for him as well.”
My heart warmed at the words, a low radiating heat that enveloped my whole body. Both Elden and Aldaar had lost their parents. Their father, just like me. I didn’t know why I bothered defending the king, but there it was—and he had a name. Elden.
Aldaar looked up at me through long white eyelashes and leaned in for a hug. “I’m glad you’re here, Noelle.”
I almost said,me too, but remembered my home—the one I’d been taken from. At least in this moment, I was happy to give what little comfort I could to this young child. I held on tight as a few small tears escaped my eyes.
“Alright, let’s make these tarts as beautiful as we can.” I wiped at Aldaar’s damp cheeks with my apron. “Hopefully they will at leasttastemagical.”
Rafia made her way in with a sack of flour and brought it to the larder. She started scrubbing the countertops as Aldaar and I chatted, the smell of currants and cinnamon wrapping around us like a mother’s embrace. We decorated the mincemeat tarts artfully with little stars cut from the pie crust, then placed candied orange and lemon peels in each center. Aldaar and I finished the tarts as the sun began its descent for the evening. I smiled at my own little secret, my silly little rebellion of mincemeat tarts. They were delicious, though the mincemeat was always better after a week in cold storage which allowed the flavors to deepen.
“You will join us for dinner, won’t you?” Aldaar asked as I hugged him goodbye.
Rafia washed the dishes in the sink as I plated the shining tarts that were to be delivered tonight.
“I’m sorry, Aldaar, but—” I started.
“Shh.” Soap dripped from Rafia’s hands as she fixed me with a stern glare.
I started again, confused. “I’m sorry but?—”
“Shh.” Rafia shushed me again and whispered through a grin. “You mustn’t say no to the prince.”
Aldaar stood straight, arms behind his back beaming. “Yes, Noelle?”
I’d been beaten by a tiny royal elf. “I’d be happy to join you for dinner tonight, but I’m afraid I do not own any fine dresses for such events, I?—”
“Perfect.” Aldaar chirped. “We shall have them made! Rafia, please order Noelle as many dresses as she may like. I want you to be there when my brother tastes our magic tarts.”
“But they’re not magic!” I protested.
“I know they will be. See you at supper!” and with that, Aldaar leapt from the cottage, leaving me standing like a fool, mouth agape.
I turned to Rafia, “Don’t say no to the prince? Really?”
Rafia had the tact to at least look slightly chagrined. “No one would ever dare turn down the prince for such an honor as being a dinner guest.”
“But I can’t go like this, and you know I don’t have anything suitable to wear. Plus I hate the king with a burning…hatred.” I groaned. I didn’t think I could handle another run in with the king. He was becoming quite…unbearable with his strange insistence that I had magic.
“The prince has authorized me to get you dresses!” Rafia wagged her magenta eyebrows. “And I know just who to call upon.”
New dresses and dinner with the insufferable Elf King. Tonight. I fought back the nerves in my stomach as they flipped and tickled. I was very much not excited to see the king again. Yes, he was unbelievably handsome, but he was pure evil. A proud, arrogant, insufferable male. I hated him. I’d need to get these girlish feelings and ridiculous attractions out of my head before I saw him tonight. I would not, could not, let his beauty make me forget about who he truly was.
I followed Rafia out into the late afternoon sun, the savory bread dough forgotten on the countertop.
