Chapter 9
"How, exactly, is this supposed to work?" Matthias asked, unable to believe his good fortune.
"It's quite simple, really," Una responded.
She was sitting on the other side of a small counter in the corner of the busy bakehouse.
She had placed a bowl in front of her that was filled with tiny, husked, boiled peas.
"Demonstrate to me that you have a thorough understanding of the basic techniques required for each type of dough.
And I will ensure that you have mastered the basics in a way that my father can work with.
He is a very busy man, and while the Academy has likely prepared you well, his time is invaluable. "
"I understand all of that," Matthias said, bristling.
She spoke like she was explaining things to a child.
He had been at the palace for nearly two weeks now, and in that time he had done nothing more than silently follow the Codex Masters and observe their processes—other than then experimenting after hours on his own.
But that morning, Renaud—who had spoken fewer than a dozen words to him—announced that it was time for him to get his hands dirty. And Matthias had nearly cackled for joy when the Royal Flourier said that his daughter would supervise his first few weeks of actual baking.
"How, exactly," Matthias said, repeating his earlier words, "is this supposed to work since you have refused to ever eat anything that I create?" He nearly smiled.
Una looked entirely unbothered. "Trust me, apprentice, that will not be a problem." She reached forward and picked up a single pea between her fingers, popping it into her mouth.
Matthias shrugged. So she did eat. She ate carrots in the garden and peas in the bakehouse. "Then where shall we begin, Codex Master?" He tilted his head, dropping the sarcasm from his voice. "Actually, why are you not a Codex Master?" he asked. "Surely you have the knowledge?"
Una folded her hands primly in her lap. "The knowledge, yes," she said. "But I prefer not to dirty my hands. Let us begin with a plain short crust. You will make, and I will watch."
Matthias raised an eyebrow as he turned to the pantry to retrieve some flour and butter. It was only a few days ago that he had found her in the garden, her hands literally buried in dirt. Her answer made no sense, but he took note of it and reminded himself to write it in his journal later.
The noise of the working kitchen around him filled the silence as he quickly and efficiently built a plain short crust in front of her.
The cold butter folded into the salted flour beautifully.
He added a sprinkle of sugar on the mixture before blending it together between his fingers.
He rolled the mixture out before the butter became fully incorporated into the flour, keeping small pockets of the tasty fat visible under his rolling pin.
That would ensure the proper flake and texture the codex demanded.
The work was easy. Mind-numbingly easy.
Painfully easy.
At least it appeared that they were in agreement on that. The few times he looked up at her throughout the process she appeared even more bored than he was.
He successfully lifted the rolled sheet of dough and placed it inside a copper ring, pressing it gently down without a single crack.
After sliding it into the oven, he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. Even with all the doors in the large room open, the massive oven kept the entire bakehouse uncomfortably warm.
Every flourier had their sleeves rolled back past their elbows, but Una appeared unbothered by the heat. Not a single button on her dress was undone, from her cuff to her collar. She sat at the counter, not looking at him.
The pastry would take several minutes to bake, so Matthias left the bakehouse and stepped down into the cool cellar between the bakehouse and the kitchen.
The brewer kept a few large glass pitchers of ready-made drinks cool and accessible for the hardworking staff.
A treat Matthias had been happy to discover about his new life at the palace.
Picking up two earthenware cups, he assessed the day’s options for drinks.
One of the pitchers held a simmered barley concoction. It was a common drink, and one he personally enjoyed. He poured himself a small sip of it to taste. The brewer had added a generous amount of honey to sweeten and thicken the golden liquid. How very Lameran.
The other pitcher appeared to have been made fresh that morning as the green leaves of lemon balm, mint, and borage still floated on the top of it.
Having Una oversee his training was an opportunity he could not pass up. He would be studying her even harder than she was studying him.
And this was the perfect opportunity. He filled both cups, putting one of each drink in either of them and then climbed the stairs back to the bakehouse.
He instantly missed the dry, cool air of the cellar as a wave of heat hit him, but he made his way back to the obscure corner where Una still sat on a tall stool.
Placing both cups on the counter between them, he looked up at her. "Would you like something to drink while we wait?" he asked.
Una leaned forward to peer at the contents of the cups. The Barley concoction was easy to ascertain due to its milky texture.
Not surprisingly, Una chose the opposite cup. "Thank you," she said.
Matthias picked up the barley cup and gratefully drank its cool contents. She had chosen the less sweet option of the two. He would also note that down later.
They spent the next few minutes observing the busy bakehouse while she sipped her herb-infused water. She made no attempt at conversation, and Matthias was content to let the noise around him fill their silence.
When he checked on the pastry, it was baked to perfection. The oven was kept at a constant temperature and the dough had cooked evenly throughout. No large bubbles, or dark streaks of burnt butter marred the surface, and he confidently carried it back to the counter, placing it in front of her.
She barely glanced at it before looking back up at him and giving him a single nod. "Next, a choux." She ate another single pea from the nearly empty bowl in front of her.
Matthias still felt a sharp pang of anger rise in his chest. She would eat a pasty pea but not even deign to taste his perfectly flaky crust? "Not even a pinch?" he asked, forcing out a hard smile to cover the emotion in his voice.
Una shook her head. "It is good work. Flawless, really." Her voice was strained, as though it hurt her to say the words. "I do not need a pinch to tell me that."
Matthias felt his moment of anger melt at her compliment, forced as it was. "You've already seen my choux," he said. She had not tasted it then, and he knew she would not taste it now.
"Yes, but it was covered in spun sugar and weighed down by cocoa," she said, looking over the pie crust that sat between them as though it did not exist.
Matthias waited for her to elaborate, but she did not. That was all she intended to say and her meaning was clear. She wanted to see him make the choux, unadorned. And she was right. She was the master here, even if she had no interest in the title.
Matthias moved to the far end of the kitchen to retrieve a copper pot.