The kitchen smelled like fresh bread, spices, and something sweet and buttery that made my stomach growl.
The head chef stood at the main counter, his mustache twitching as he barked orders at his assistants. “Flora, those eggs are overcooked. Peter, if you burn one more batch of pastries, I’m reassigning you to potato duty for a week.”
Flora, a young woman with flour dusted across her nose, caught sight of me and Fletcher. “Queen Adele! And the little lord!”
Fletcher perked up immediately.Little lord. I like her.
Chef Breard turned, his stern expression melting intosomething almost paternal. “Your Majesty. You look like you haven’t eaten properly in days.”
“I’ve been investigating?—”
“Sit.” He pointed at a stool by the counter with the authority of someone who’d fed generations of dragon shifters and wouldn’t tolerate arguments in his kitchen. “Peter, get Her Majesty a plate. Fill it with the good pastries, not the ones you almost turned into char-babies.”
I slid onto the stool, setting Fletcher down beside me. He put on his most pathetic expression, the one that suggested he’d never been fed in his entire life and might expire from starvation at any moment.
“Oh, you poor darling,” Flora cooed, abandoning her eggs to come over and scratch behind his ears. “Would you like something to eat too?”
I like her very much,he said.You should take notes of this and utilize them in the future.
“He’s not that hungry,” I said. “Don’t let him fool you.”
Fletcher gave me a look of betrayal before turning soulful eyes back to Flora.
Chef Breard set a plate in front of me, holding three different pastries, each more beautiful than the last. Flaky, golden, and still warm from the oven. “Eat. You’re too thin.”
“I’m not?—”
“Eat.”
As he set a mug of steaming tea beside my plate, I took a bite of tart with a spiced cream filling. Sweet fates, it was good. So good I made an embarrassing sound.
Chef Breard’s lips twitched. “Better than whatever they served at those other courts, yes?”
“So much better.” I took another bite, then another, suddenly ravenous.
Peter strode over with a bowl of meat stew, setting it onthe floor in front of Fletcher. “Leftover from last night. You’re going to love it.”
Fletcher’s tail started wagging so hard his entire back end wiggled.This is why the kitchen is my favorite place in the entire palace.
He dove into the bowl, making happy sounds as he slurped it up.
“He’s such a good boy,” Flora said, watching him with open adoration. “Aren’t you? Yes, you are. The best boy.”
She understands my worth,Fletcher informed me between bites.
“He does love food,” I said.
“It’s clear your companion is a distinguished gentleman with refined taste. Unlike certain people who skip meals while running around solving mysteries,” the chef said.
I paused mid-bite. “Did Raoul tell you to lecture me about eating?”
“His Majesty may have mentioned you have a tendency to forget food exists when you’re working.” Chef Breard’s expression softened. “He worries.”
Warmth bloomed in my chest. Of course he worried. Of course he’d asked the kitchen staff to make sure I ate.
“Well, this is delicious.” I reached for the second pastry. “What is it?”
“Honey almond cream in puff pastry. An old family recipe.” Chef Breard watched me eat with the satisfaction of someone who took feeding people as a calling. “The king requests them specifically when he needs comfort food.”
