Page 11 of The Promise Born
“Here is your uniform.” She handed me a bundle of fabrics. “This is only to be worn while you're in the kitchen. When you're out of the kitchen, you can wear whatever you want, but our queen does visit the kitchen from time to time and we must be presentable when she does.”
“Right. Thank you.” I took the bundle from her and started looking over the soft gray and red fabrics. At least the material was soft. It wouldn’t irritate my skin.
“I'll give you some time to get ready. I have to go check in with some other people, but then I'll be back to escort you to the kitchen.”
“Thanks, again.”
Maryl left me alone and I got myself together, fixed my hair and put on the soft fabrics. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at how horribly boring the outfit was. The gray blended into the background and the touches of red represented fire. That was it. Of course, it didn't matter how I looked. I was going to stand in the kitchen and get messy. No one was going to be looking at me.
Moments after I finished dressing, Maryl returned to get me. I followed her through the busy halls to the kitchen on the lower level, where I immediately got to work. Their eyes followed my every move. It didn’t feel safe even pretending to do the treats the way I'd normally would. So instead, I made them how everyone else would. Simple ingredients put together in a bowl, baked and prepared the best that I could without using my magic.
The idea that my treats would end up less tasty just because I couldn’t steal a few moments to myself disheartened me. But after a while, I smiled to myself, thinking this could be my way out. Maybe if they didn't taste as good, he would send me away from his home and back to my shop. Maybe I could convince the prince that I had to be happy and comfortable to make them to the best of my ability.
It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.
When I finished making the treats, Maryl came and got me to usher me to the prince.
If he hadn’t taken my freedom away, I might have found him attractive. Sitting beneath a stone arch covered in red and white flowers. The prince stood and greeted Maryl and I as we approached him.
“Maryl, it’s good to see you again.”
Maryl said nothing. Her face brightened as she smiled, bowed, and waved her hand at me to present me to him.
I stood there, tray in hand, and Maryl ran away. It was like she didn't want him to even look at her. Her chubby cheeks flushed crimson, and a little giggle escaped her lips. Something told me Maryl had a crush on the prince. I immediately concocted a story in my mind about Maryl one day stealing the heart of the cruddy prince. And as I've told myself this story, Prince Asante stood looking at me like I was an alien.
“Are you going to present the treats to me?” He asked, a frown etching itself onto his face, clearly annoyed.
“Oh yeah, sorry. Here you go.” I pushed the tray out to him.
“You look a mess.” He turned up his nose as he looked me over. I was covered in flour and had a little dried egg still on my hands.
“Thank you so much for the compliment.” I huffed. “I only spent hours slaving away in a hot stove in a hot, unfamiliar kitchen that is not my own, struggling to make the most basic desserts, because your kitchen doesn't have everything that I need.”
“Sorry.” He said shortly before peering over the presented treats. They looked good enough, but I knew they wouldn’t taste the same.
I watched him as he ate the food and awaited his reaction. I knew it wouldn't be the same typically when someone ate my food. Their eyes lit up and their face is flushed, and they looked like they were in heaven. That is not what happened when Asante put those morsels into his mouth. His brow furrowed; his nose scrunched up. He looked at me with total disappointment.
“Did you purposely make them this bad?” He dropped the uneaten food back on the tray. “They don’t taste anything like what you gave me before.”
“I don't purposely destroy food, but your kitchen is not the same as my own place. The tools are not the same. And I don't like being watched when I do what I need to do. The reason other people can't do what I do is because they don't know my secrets. And you want me to sit there and do everything with an audience. I walked into the kitchen and their eyes followed me everywhere. How could I work like that?”
The prince looked away from me. “Why didn't you mention this before?”
“I feel like this is something I'm going to be asking you a lot, but when did you ask?”
“What do you need to make them better?”
“Why are you spending so much time training those men?” I avoided the question and redirected the conversation to something I was more interested in.
He frowned at me. “What are you talking about?”
“You know my room overlooks the yards.” I rolled my eyes as if he didn't know. “I assume you had me put there on purpose. You wanted me to see what you were doing with your days. Am I wrong?”
“I didn't select your room. My aide did.” He lied straight to my face. “I'm training those men because they have to go to the tournament. Because I want them to win and bring honor to our people.”
I could have pointed out how he’d already told me he chose my room, but I kept the thought to myself. “Isn’t there someone else who can do that? Does it have to be the prince?”
“The person meant to do it is no longer here with us. I'm filling his shoes the best I can. And I'll tell you, like everyone else who asks, no, I don't think there is anyone else.” He took a deep breath, his jaw tightening with aggravation. “This is personal to me. I need to do this. Is that a good enough answer for you?”
