“Here, stir this together while I pull out the bread.” She hands me the bowl and spoon. Her brown hair is tied up lazily atop her head, and her stray curls hang down to frame her features.
I try to mix with a large wooden spoon, but my handshakes against the thick batter’s resistance. No matter how I hold the bowl, it slips away from me, my struggle blatant. Zinnia promised to teach me how to cook, but I didn't think I’d be so awful at it from the start.
“Honestly, Raelys, I thought you were joking when you mentioned you’ve never cooked anything.” Zinnia frowns as she watches me. “But now I can see that you were serious.”
She plucks the spoon from my grip and sighs. “You should try holding it like this.” Zinnia places the spoon in my hand, adjusting my fingers around the handle. “And using more of your wrist.”
I do as told, folding the batter with the spoon as I mix. Zinnia drops several handfuls of fresh blueberries into the batter before turning to pull her bread from the oven.
Growing up behind castle walls, I never learned the tasks most do every day. Cooking is entirely foreign to me; this is my first attempt at preparing anything. Cleaning has been another challenge. I only recently managed to make my bed without it looking like a storm had passed through. Now that winter has come, I need to learn how to start a fire. The small hearth in my room has remained cold and unused, leaving me shivering through the nights.
“Rest assured, my governess thought it was pertinent that I learn mathematics before cooking,” I say jokingly, getting a warm laugh from Zinnia.
“I can’t believe you grew up in a castle!” Zinnia says in excitement. “What was it like?”
“I am very aware of the luxuries that accompanied my upbringing,” I start. “For many, your parents raise you to do the tasks your life requires. My father was preparing me to be a king’s wife. It is a different skill set. Neither one is more valuable than the other, in my opinion.”
“Yes, but what was itlike?” Zinnia presses me further.
I shrug. “It was quite boring. I had my lessons and waited for my brother to return home from battle.”
Her brown eyes go wide. “You never left the castle?”
A smile forms on my lips. “No. Not until I was engaged and shipped off to Avelisar.”
Zinnia takes the spoon and bowl from me. She dusts the wooden counter with a light sprinkle of flour before moving the batter from the bowl onto the surface. I watch in awe as her hands gently shape the batter into a round disk with speed and grace.
“And now you’re in Khalessor,” Zinnia points out. She spreads a thin layer of melted butter over the top and dusts it with sugar. Grabbing a knife, she slices the dough into several triangles and places them on a tray.
“Indeed, I am in Khalessor… for now.” There's a hint of hesitation in my voice.
Zinnia slides the tray into the oven, stands upright, and wipes her palms with a towel. “You seem so happy here, though,” she replies, cleaning up the dirty surface with a damp rag.
I help her clean, moving to wash a few bowls and spoons in the sink before setting them on a small rack to dry. Zinnia’s words sink in further the more I think about them. During my time in Khalessor, I have experienced many things, and my eyes are opening to new possibilities, changing how I view the world.
“Well—”
A knock at the door cuts off my response. Zinnia walks quickly across the room, discarding her cleaning rag with a slight toss. She opens the door and lets out a squeal of excitement.
“Taryn!” She tosses her arms around her sister and hugs her close. “What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way to the castle,” Taryn replies, stepping into the cottage as a rush of cold winter air sweeps into the room. “Raelys?” she asks in surprise as she sees me.
“Hi, Taryn.” I smile at her, stopping my cleaning.
“What are you doing here?” Her brown eyes narrow.
“Zinnia is teaching me how to make blueberry scones,” I explain.
“Come. Sit. I’ll make some tea!” Zinnia dashes across the room. “Raelys, have you ever made tea before?”
I consider her words for a few moments. “Hmm… I don’t think so.”
Zinnia giggles. “I’ll teach you.” She fills a worn kettle with water, setting it on the stove to boil. Then, she turns and plucks fresh rosemary sprigs from the plant on her windowsill, mixing them with lavender and other crushed herbs.
“How do you two know each other?” Taryn asks suspiciously.
“Raelys is one of my good friends. She brings me extra pastries from the castle and bottles of wine from her shifts at the tavern,” Zinnia says, grabbing three cups from the cupboard.
