Chapter 16
Matthias felt the sweat double on his face even though the sun was not fully up yet. Where had Una gotten that old letter? He'd only kept it in case he needed to reference the exact words he'd used . . . had she been in his room? He had been sorting out his papers and notebooks on his desk . . .
Her eyes narrowed, bored into him over the folded parchment.
"Where did you get that?" he asked, his voice tinged with anger. She had no right to—
"Sable brought me a gift this morning," she said, her voice flat. "The first gift he deemed worthy to return to me. And it was this." She shook it.
He stepped forward, his shoulders dropping in some small relief.
He had been leaving his windows open to let in the cool night air.
At least she had not been prying into his things.
"I can explain, Una," he said. He reached out to take it from her hand.
It was just a copy of the one he had actually sent to the headmaster.
He should have destroyed it long ago. He would rectify that now.
She snatched it back. "What is there to explain?" she said. "You forged my father's hand to gain your place in the academy."
Matthias held up his hands, full as they were, palms facing her. "I told you that I do not care about the codex," he said. That much was true, and from what he knew about her, he thought she respected that much at least.
"This isn't about the codex," she said, her voice rising. "You forged the signature of one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, and copied the royal seal. If this was discovered . . ." Her voice sounded angry, but there was a note of something else in it as well.
"Are you concerned for me?" he asked.
"It has been discovered." The concern was gone now, leaving only the anger. "By me."
"I told you I need to become a master," Matthias said.
"For my parents." He was not proud of forging the letter, but it was impossible to get into the Royal Academy of Flouriers without a written recommendation from a Codex Master.
He had studied Renaud's hand and signature from the trade writs that were occasionally sent out to every codex bakery across the nearby kingdoms. He had never imagined that he would go on to need—and win—the apprenticeship under that very man himself.
Una tucked the letter into a pocket, hidden within the folds of her skirt. "And you were clear that you would do anything it took to get it.
"I meant no harm by it," Matthias said, his words truthful. "I merely needed a way into the Academy." He took a step toward her—he hardly knew why, only that the distance between them had become unbearable.
"I was beginning to . . . I trusted you." Una held out her hand. "What else have you lied about, Apprentice?"
He looked down at her open hand. "Nothing, Una," he said, unsure what she was asking of him. His mind scrambled to think of any other lies she might be referring to, or might uncover.
"Your notebook," she demanded.
Matthias looked at the journal in his hand. It only contained his recipes, his notes on the codex, his ideas for the cocoa, his notes on . . . "Una, no."
"Your notebook." Her eyes had gone cold.
Matthias felt his stomach drop. He shook his head.
She narrowed her eyes.
His entire goal had been to break this woman, to get her approval. But somewhere along the way, her trust and her smiles had become far more important than that. His shoulders slumped and he held out the hardbound book.
Taking it from his hand, she flipped through the opening pages, quickly finding what he hoped she would not see.
"The daughter," she read, looking up over the page to see his reaction.
His chest tightened as though he had been plunged into a river of cold water despite the heat that surrounded him. He shook his head again. "Please don't," he begged.
Una looked back down at the book. "She tastes nothing.
Refuses to take a single bite unless prompted by the king himself.
She deems everything below her. Appears to enjoy her power over the other flouriers even though she is not one herself.
Her father deems her word as final but never pressures her to take a single bite.
She holds the power here. Break her and Codex Master is mine. "
He covered his eyes with his free hand, knowing what came next, and cursing himself for having written it. He remembered writing those lines, remembered how pleased he had been with himself for approaching this problem systematically.
"She keeps to the garden and the bakehouse at night, alone," she read, and her chin lifted by a degree. "No friends among the staff. She has spent weeks taming a crow for the company of it." Her voice caught, just once, on a single breath, and then steadied.
Matthias couldn't breathe. He had spent weeks watching every subtle turn of her face as she directed him through the different doughs.
He knew what she was thinking, when she was impressed, when she was bored, when she pulled away and closed herself off from the world.
The way she was doing right now. She was hiding away the parts of her that he'd had the privilege to witness.
The girl who had laughed in delight in this very garden after a crow ate from her palm.
The girl who had let him push her sleeve back to reveal her arm while she stood there shaking.
She was folding herself away, piece by piece, behind the face the whole kingdom feared—the inscrutable critic, the daughter who tasted nothing—because he had hurt her.
"There's a last line," she said. "Shall I read that too?" She did not wait. "She is lonely. That will make this easier."
She closed the journal and held it against her chest, and looked at him. There were no tears in her eyes, just a cold aloofness. "You are just like all the rest of them," she said, her voice quiet. Quiet and flat.
Her eyes looked right through him as she stepped forward. Holding the notebook up, she slammed it into his chest, releasing it as she walked by him.
He caught the book, turning to watch her go. He wanted to call her back, but every excuse died on his lips, and he knew that nothing he could say would cause her to turn around.