Chapter 18
UNEXPECTED THINGS
Imade my way down the winding wooden stairs in my satin green gown from the bathing room into the bedchamber.
Elden added some wood to the fire that now blazed in the hearth.
The light of the fire caressed his skin like a lover, warming and softening his features.
He looked so young despite his bone white hair—now still that raven black disguise.
So close to my age, but I knew that elves stayed young and beautiful for eternity.
He could be a hundred and I’d never know it.
“Nice to see you’ve finally learned to make a decent fire,” I teased as I toweled down my wet hair.
Elden chuckled deeply. “Yes, I had a rather angry teacher.”
I scowled, but blurted out the question on my mind without thinking, “How old are you?”
The Elf King turned and faced me. “I am an elf. My age matters not.”
“Well, I am a human. Age very much matters to us.” I hadn’t realized just how badly I needed to know.
Damp hair fell around my shoulders. Dark blue curling ringlets soaking a bit through my fabric. I’d never been able to get my hair to do what I wanted, but my mother and Rafia had known how to braid beautifully. I felt bare before Elden as I stood, still damp from my bath.
“I am not yet twenty,” Elden admitted as he stood and gathered his things for his own bath.
I blinked in surprise. We were only two years apart in age. “When is your birthday?”
“June the twenty-first.” Elden’s back was to me as he stoked the fire.
“Summer solstice,” I mused. “Hmm, you struck me as more of a grumbly winter guy.”
Elden spun around, “I am not…grumbly!”
I smiled widely at the silly way Elden’s beautiful voice tripped over my made-up word. I quirked an eyebrow.
“Well, I wasn’t before,” Elden murmured as low as a rumbling storm. “I mourn the free spirit that I used to be, whiling away the hours content in my garden. The elf before my father died, before my kingdom teetered on a knife’s edge.”
My heart softened like warm butter as I took in the solemn profile of the young king. So young, so beautiful.
“I lost a bit of myself when my father died, too.” I offered. “It was as if my whole heart was changed. Shifted, diminished. I’ll never have that part of my heart whole again, but every day I try to make him proud. Live the way he would’ve wanted me to. It makes the burden a little easier to bear.”
Though, I don’t know how my father would approve of the anger I’d been feeling toward the elves for so long—the blame I’d placed on their shoulders for his death. He would scold me from morn to evening about not judging others before you knew them.
Elden nodded, as he began to unbraid his hair.
Raven hair fell around his shoulders. “My father, despite his many flaws, was a good king. A good father. He would read his stories to me every night as a youngling. Weave stories of mystery and magic. I feel as if I am living one of his wild tales right now.”
I smiled. “Why is that?”
Elden’s answering smile caused my heart to flutter quite on its own, soaring through the tall trees and into the night. “An elf and a human on an undercover mission to save the realm? It is just the kind of story my father loved. Dangerous tasks and forbidden love—”
Elden’s golden eyes flicked up to meet mine and my heart flew out into the atmosphere of space as if my magic truly did reach to the stars.
Forbidden love? I breathed through a constricted throat.
Elden’s eyes lingered on mine, searching for something. The intensity of his warm gaze causing my insides to go as molten as the gold flecks in his eyes. I broke the trance, glancing down at my feet.
“They are only stories,” Elden said roughly through the flickering flames the fire cast onto the walls of the Dragonfly Room. “Nothing more than dreams, after all.”
“Yes, only in dreams,” I whispered, though my eyes remained on the safety of my bare toes.
Elden cleared his throat. “Shall I meet you in the kitchens then?”
“Yes, of course.” I blinked, trying to clear the buzzing in my ears and the flush in my cheeks. “Have a nice bath.”
Have a nice bath? I groaned at my stupidity, slipped on my shoes, then grabbed my satchel housing Jel’s potion, my cookbook and magic spoon, and stepped out into the enchanted night.
The sun had fallen beneath the trees and dusk was upon us.
I had a good hour before the party to learn how to make those caramels from Tabitha.
Armed with the first two pillars of magic, it was time to see if I could awaken this magic within me, on purpose this time.
I found Tabitha elbows deep in dish soap in the main tree’s kitchens.
“Let me help you with that.” I pushed up my sleeves and made my way to the sink. Washing dishes was a familiar task I wouldn’t mind getting lost in. It was definitely a better alternative to getting lost in Elden’s molten eyes again.
Tabitha swatted at my offered hands, “You’ll do no such thing!” Her cheeks flushed as if I’d insulted her.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m just used to working in a kitchen. Baking.” I offered as soon as I realized my mistake. The elves had such pride in their work. “You run such a lovely inn.”
Tabitha seemed to warm to my words, so I continued, “Your caramels are incredible. I’ve never had anything like them.”
Tabitha smiled. “Old family recipe, but I’m always willing to teach what I know to a fellow baker.”
She was willing to teach me? I squealed inwardly with delight.
“I’m about to mix my next batch for the party tonight. How about we make a deal?” Tabitha scrutinized me with discerning eyes.
“Yes?” I asked, worried I wouldn’t meet whatever expectations she had of me.
“You help me with my caramels,”—Tabitha bounced one of my dark blue curls—“and I’ll help you with your hair.”
I blew out a breath of relief and gestured to my mess of curls. “Your help would be most welcome.”
“That’s settled then.” Tabitha handed me an apron, then brought out a giant tub of butter. “Be a dear and hand me that sugar. We’ll need both white and brown.”
Tabitha was pleased to find me both a practiced and eager student as we measured pecans and poured syrups.
She completed all of her measurements by feel and sight, so I followed after and measured with spoons, cups, and a scale.
I took copious notes of every action, drawing pictures in my recipe book as we went.
My drawings were a bit rounder and lighter than my father’s, but this recipe belonged in here beside his.
It felt right. It felt good. My recipe book resembled Jel’s spellbook more and more.
I tried to focus on the two pillars of magic, intent and touch.
Touch seemed easy because handling the ingredients was part of the job.
But what was my intent? To make caramels for the newly married couple?
With all of my feelings swirling around Elden, I could barely focus on any kind of true intent of anything.
He said I needed to force my will, but I didn’t truly know what my will was.
We melted the sugars, cream, and heap of butter, filling the kitchen with warm comfort. We stirred the mixture until the sugar dissolved, then brought it to a boil. More cream was added, then we got to the tricky part.
“If we overcook it, the candy will harden too much,” Tabitha explained. “So we’ll run a few sugar stage tests.”
Like Jel, Tabitha used science, experiments, to get the right outcome. Once the mixture had boiled for a few minutes, Tabitha collected a small ball and dropped it into a bowl of water. It formed a soft, flexible ball.
“Almost there.” Tabitha said.
I watched the sugars, butter, and cream boil with bated breath.
“That should do it.” Tabitha exclaimed as she dropped another scoop of mixture into the cool water. She pulled it out and stretched the ball. “See here, it holds its shape, but is still a little pliable. It’s ready.”
Tabitha removed the pan from the heat and l poured in the vanilla, which caused the mixture to fizzle loudly as the alcohol burned off, then mixed in the pecans.
What did my magic feel like? Apparently, it had been a natural force I never questioned before. I tried to find the well somewhere inside of me…but felt nothing but the warmth of good company and the sweetness of baking with someone new.
We poured out the caramel into a greased pan to cool. We were just starting to cut the pieces when Tabitha’s daughter arrived to take over.
“Now about that hair.” Tabitha turned to me, capable hands on hips.
Terrine got to work wrapping the pieces of caramel while Tabitha led me out of the kitchen to a small parlor beside the main entry hall.
I took one last look at the caramels, willing my magic into them as my mind spiraled wildly.
I huffed out a defeated breath. There had to be more I didn’t understand.
I’d need to ask Elden for my next lesson.
Within minutes, I stared at my reflection in a tall mirror gilded with golden songbirds and blossoms. Living wildflowers and brilliant mushrooms grew straight out of the tall tree walls in a carpet of color.
Amethyst gemstones shone in twinkling lights.
Tabitha worked efficiently, if not a bit roughly on my hair.
She twisted and braided my bluebell mane with white ribbon, then tucked small white flowers throughout my braids.
“This is where I prepare the brides before their weddings. It has always been my honor here in Spindlewood.” Tabitha smiled dreamily.
“I can see why they come to you,” I said in awe.
My mother and Rafia had both been amazing with my hair, but Tabitha was a force of nature.
I turned my head from side-to-side marveling at the way my curls twisted.
The way my hair was plaited to best show off my cheekbones, slender neck, and illusionary elves’ ears.
Elden’s face was clearly visible through the mirror as he made his way to the doorway. His deep voice mumbled, “beautiful.”