Unbearable. She was honestly unbearable sometimes.
Elysia stalked over to the great wooden chest and flung it open, rummaging for shoes. She wasn’t sure anyone could get on someone’s nerves quite like their own mother. Or perhaps it was just her mother. She snatched out a pair of soft, supple black boots that ran the lengths of her calves with tiny buttons up the side and yanked them on before stomping back out the door.
If dear Mrs. Parker could not be disturbed, then Elysia had her own mysteries to solve.
It was time to visit an old friend.
She’d been putting off this visit even though she’d felt a whisper of knowing that he’d be able to help. Not that anyone could blame her for avoiding Rollie.
Last time she’d seen him, he’d chucked a lit candle at her head from a foot away. Hair singed and wax blobs dripping down her face, she’d bolted from his home as he screamed at her.
Elysia’s hand drifted to her hair in apprehension.
Yes, she was going to need reinforcements. If she wanted to keep her hair, anyway.
Chapter 5
Elysia walkedwith her chin held high and a cordial expression pasted onto her face, making sure to greet any servant or fellow Crown member as she passed.
Hello.
So good to see you.
No, no, I haven’t seen Beatriz lately.
She was no longer sure how much of it was an act. Maybe it had once been real as she streaked through these halls with Remy and Daphne, laughing as they hid behind heavy embroidered curtains and chased the castle hounds and cats. But now, she smiled to keep her parents’ questions away and to ensure that they would not rip away her life outside these walls. She smiled because she was in the business of procuring truth and lies, and should she fail, her father would not hesitate to ruin her.
She peeked her face around the archway into the kitchens and found them bustling, as expected. The smell of fresh bread had her mouth watering before she even took another step. Elysia liked living on her own. Really, she did. But soot and storms, did she miss the food here! The scent of roasting meathit her nose and her stomach grumbled on cue, as if she hadn’t just eaten her weight in cookies at Fillie’s.
She stayed tucked out of sight for a moment longer, enjoying the familiar sight of the organized chaos that was Lynd’s kitchen. Pans clanging and shouts ofbehind yourang out. Never a dull or leisurely moment, that was for sure. The head chef was a culinary genius with mouths to feed and young women to train. The culinary arts were one of the few paths where a woman of any socioeconomic status could find herself elevated to a position of security if they were willing to leave Kava, and Lynd felt it her duty to equip as many women as she could with the skills to provide a life for themselves.
It wasn’t uncommon for the girls or women to arrive at her kitchens withdrawn or even bruised and broken. A few months or even years under her firm but caring guidance and you wouldn’t recognize them. They became precise and assertive miniatures of the woman who’d given them a chance.
Yes, Lynd would very well tear apart anyone who threatened her kitchens, or the young girls and women whom she trained. Elysia thought you’d have to be an idiot to threaten anyone who could handle a knife that well, but some people were just plain stupid, she supposed.
Lynd’s proteges went on to the finest kitchens and bakeries around the world. She sent them out to different countries, knowing they’d be better off there than scraping to get by here. It was almost impossible to secure a culinary position within Kava given how few restaurants still existed after the Fall. Importing the necessary ingredients was expensive and too few people could afford the experience.
Fish stew stands were the main market in Relaclave these days. All the more reason somewhere like Fillie’s was so special. It was the only café in the entire capital city.
“Whoever’s dawdling in my doorway, either get your ass in here and work, or get out.”
A smirk crossed Elysia’s face, but she listened, dropping down the steps into the kitchens.One of those days for everybody, I guess.Based on Lynd’s tone, she knew damn well not to interrupt. She stepped out of the way, waiting patiently, and watched Lynd carefully inspect a child’s pastry.
“More butter next time,” she critiqued, and then turned with floured hands already reaching for the next pastry to review.
Her sharp eyes caught on the dark-haired woman hiding quietly, almost invisible in the corner, and gave a shake of her head.
“Come to steal some cakes, have you?” She directed one of the girls to grab a basket and tea towel as she spoke.
Elysia walked up to Lynd with a little shrug, enjoying how the heat sucked her into the heart of the kitchen. In the dead of winter, she used to sneak in here not only for the snacks that filled her pockets when she left but also simply to bask in the warmth and camaraderie found within the kitchen’s walls. She’d found it odd at the time how they all interacted so honestly and with such good humor.
“Would you believe me if I said they aren’t really for me?” Elysia leaned against a counter, careful to not place her elbows on anything sticky or covered in flour.
Lynd grumbled goodheartedly. “We all know these cakes won’t escape without at least a few sliding into your belly.”
She glanced up and frowned as she took in Elysia’s slighter than usual frame. Too many angles. Too little curves. The thoughts were clear as day on Lynd’s face.
“A few more pastries as well,” she ordered the girls scurrying around like mice. “The meat ones too—yes, those.” She nodded approvingly before turning back to Elysia. “Not feeding yourself in that dingy wreck you call a flat?”
