Page 6 of Crowned A Traitor
The kitchen wasn't too far down the narrow corridor and least it was away from the Queens' prying eyes. Klara looked over her shoulder, and the Ogres remained fixed to their post by the moss-covered archway. The Queens weren't fond of doors in the Castle because they made it harder for Klara to lock them out of her life. Hopefully, they would be too frustrated by Klara's insolence to notice the smell of blood lingering after her.
The smell of the food guided her path to the expansive white marble kitchen, one of her favourite places to lurk when Eve failed to show up to teach, or Lilith released her from her training. The Queens never dared to venture anywhere the Doomed frequented. Kind of ironic since the Queens' Doomed souls also live in servitude to her Father. But instead of mopping the floors of the dungeon or running Hell's Maze for eternity, they were forced to care for his Heir.
"Just the person I was looking for to try my new recipe." Arthur, the elderly chef strode out from the pantry with his arms full of containers and spices.
"The Queens are furious," Klara said, taking a seat at the marble island in the middle of the kitchen every inch of the counters was laden with desserts. Arthur whistled softly, and the objects disappeared from his arms and appeared by the iron stove. Being a High Warlock had some advantages even if he no longer had full use of his powers.
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"Sneaking out on a full moon? Careless. You don't worry about your security as you should, the Queens have every right to be angry with you," Arthur scolded pulling at his thick white beard. “I wouldn’t have to sneak out if they agreed to let me out more often.”
Arthur placed a silver spoon of mousse between her lips before she could argue further. "Caramel?" Klara said, licking the remaining sauce from her lips. "Anything else?" Arthur frowned, looking into the large pot of steaming caramel.
"Needs salt," Klara wiped her lips, and his eyes widened in alarm. "Knew I forgot something, this is why it helps to have a set of living taste buds around."
"Happy to be of service," Klara said, taking a bite out of a dark chocolate-dipped strawberry. They were grown in the Human lands and exceptionally expensive to transport through the Port of Malum, but the Queens spared no expense for their feverish appetites.
"Not for you," Arthur said, wiping his veined hands on his black chef's jacket as Klara reached for another. "Abadan loves to count her desserts," he said quietly. " To make sure the Port Hands aren't getting greedy."
"God forbid they feed the starving," Klara said a little too loud and noticed the wince in Arthur's shoulders as he feared the High Queen Abadan's wrath.
"So how did your adventure go or are you too busy planning your next escape attempt?" Arthur chuckled, and Klara placed her hand on his arm. "Let's say it was eventful. I'm not planning anything for a while. Need to get back on their good side before they set the Hounds on me."
Klara coughed into her palm, noticing the specks of blood as Arthur went back to his steaming pot of caramel. "Well, it appears you have seen some sense," Arthur said, and Klara wiped her hand on her already filthy dungarees. Klara needed Arthur to leave before she could get to the pantry.
"Attend your lessons as an Heir to two planes should and they won't have much to be angry about," Arthur raised his eyebrows. Serving the Queens was ageing him, and that said a lot considering he was already dead. His fall from the council came after one of his spells cost the lives of an entire village on Earth. What's a greater Hell than being forced to live for eternity with guilt and regret?
"Get some sleep, the Queens have had enough for one evening," Klara said, and she could see the clouds of grey in his eyes. The dead don't sleep, but he deserved a rest. "Abadan will be displeased."
"Abadan is always displeased, I'll have one of the Doomed bring them their courses."
Arthur hesitated, placing a lid on the pot.
"Go on, before I make you cook me more of whatever smelt so delicious in there," Klara joked and Arthur kissed her forehead before untying his dirty white apron from his waist.
"You have too kind a heart," Arthur said, and she heard the fear in his voice. "But why isn't it beating Klara?" He wiped his brow as Klara put down the dessert she was about to devour.
"I may have lost it…" Klara unzipped the top of her jacket and exposed the hole in the centre of her chest.
Arthur stared at the gaping wound and shook his head, "A heart is near impossible to come by."
"The Queens could report you to your Father," the redness in his cheeks told her of his concern.
"They would be too worried about their own skin to report me. Imagine what the King would do to them if he knew this happened on their watch."
"Was this something to do with the job you snuck off to?"
Klara felt her stomach drop, "How did you know?"
Arthur scoffed, "the Queens aren't the only ones with spies. I was once the High Warlock." Klara gripped her sore shoulder.
"Stop whatever it is you are up to. Get back to Hell and restore your heart before you start to weaken. Your Father might even be happy to see you."
"Is there a way to get in undetected?" Klara leant across the counter, afraid of being overheard. Arthur twisted his beard, "Into the Manor? Maybe a portrait in Abadan's private chamber but with that wound you don't have the strength."
Klara slumped on the stool, "so I will have to see him."
"Time to face the music kid," Arthur placed a hand on her good shoulder. Klara coughed again, and he handed her a handkerchief from his chef's coat.
