Chapter 13
By the time I get down to the kitchens, I feel as if I'm about to burst into tears, and there's a very real risk that it could happen at any point.
I thought Mama had ignored everything except the food, but it turns out she had an entire afternoon of seamstress appointments for me to attend, and they'd involved a lot of prodding, poking, and decisions that I wouldn't make if I were in charge of my own clothing.
But it seems like for this week, I don't get any of it at all.
Ember curls her tail around my neck, and I lift my hand to pull it away.
"Looser," I remind her. "I need to breathe."
She lets out a little huff, but does seem to listen to me and loosens the grip of her tail from around me. At least that's one thing dealt with.
I nod to the kitchen staff, but don't linger for longer than a few minutes, not feeling like I can interact with anyone other than those who actually understand me.
It isn't until I get to the door of the smaller kitchen that I feel like I can properly breathe, but I suspect it's not going to last long when the entire day feels like it's itching at my skin.
Ember lets out a squawk and spreads her wings, drawing Nate's attention. He turns around and smiles at me before almost being hit in the face by a five-year-old dragon heading straight for him.
"Ember!"
He untangles himself and smiles at me. "I'm fine, she's just eager to get food."
"You're hurt," I respond, horror filling me at the sight of the scratch on his face.
He lifts his hand to it and brings away his fingers covered in a little blood, making me feel even worse. "It's only a scratch," he assures me. "Come on, Ember, the oven is warm, and there's food here." He pats the top of the woodfire oven.
Amazingly, my dragon actually heeds him, and she launches herself into the air so that she can make herself comfortable on top of it.
Nate grabs a clean cloth to dab his face.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, looking at him as the horrible feeling spreads through me more.
"You didn't do it," he says. "And look, it's already stopped bleeding."
"But she hurt you," I whisper. "And it's my fault."
"Evie, it's not your fault," he responds.
I shake my head. "It is, it is. If I'd..." My breathing quickens, and I reach out for something, but I don't even know what. The world feels as if it's closing in on me, and it doesn't feel as if there's enough breath in my body.
Everything spins as the pressure inside my head feels like it's going to explode out of me. I press my hands against my forehead and let out a strangled noise, but it doesn't do anything to help.
"Evie," Nate says, his warm hands on my arms. "You have to breathe slower. It'll pass. Breathe out, make a noise."
I try to do what he says, but it's difficult to focus on his words, even while he's right next to me.
He keeps repeating the instructions in a calm voice, though I can hear an edge of worry beneath them. It's a fair response, especially when I know that I'm a mess.
"Don't make me get Ember here to help," he says.
I let out a weird laugh, but it's enough to break through the stranglehold over me. It gives me a chance to breathe normally until I can tap on his arm. "I'm all right," I whisper. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry, Evie," he says softly. "Come on, you need to sit down."
"Where?"
"There's a bench in the courtyard," he says. "Why don't you go sit there, and I'll bring you a drink?"
"I can't let you do that." I look up at him, fearing that I look a mess, but feeling better when I see the care in his deep brown eyes.
"I want to." He leans in and kisses my forehead. "Please, Evie?"
I nod, knowing that it's probably for the best. My throat feels raw, and my eyes sting a little, so some air is probably a good thing.
I make my way outside and sit down on the bench, trying to ignore the cold wind that ruffles through my dress.
When I got ready to come down to the kitchen, I did it with the intention of baking, not sitting outside.
Nate appears a few minutes later with a couple of mugs and a blanket slung over his arm. He hands me one of the mugs, and I'm surprised to find drinking chocolate inside it.
"It'll help," he says as he unfolds the blanket and drapes it over my shoulders.
He sits beside me, but not before I notice a shiver go through him.
"Here." I open the blanket, and he takes the offer immediately, putting his arm around me and pulling me closer.
I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, letting the peace of the courtyard chase away the rest of the tension. There's no one here at this time, especially when it's already dark and cold outside.
"What would we have done if it were raining?" I ask.
Nate chuckles. "I'm sure we'd have figured it out. Are you all right?"
"Are you? Ember scratched you."
"I know, but it's fine. Look." He turns his face so I can see his cheek. The light coming from the kitchen is only dim here, but it's easy to see that he's right, and it's barely noticeable. "So, what happened? I doubt that was about a dragon scratch."
"It's everything." I take a sip of my chocolate, enjoying the sweet and rich taste. He's right, it does help. "Earlier was worse than I thought it was going to be."
"It was about on par with what I expected," he responds.
"I'm sorry," I blurt out.
Nate frowns. "For what?"
"That having a relationship with me isn't straightforward. And that if we want this to last, then it's going to mean that you have to give up your job, or I have to give up my family. That there are going to be rumours either way."
He leans in and brushes some hair out of my face. "None of that is news to me, Evie. I know all of that."
"But I didn't realise." Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "And I can understand if it's too much."
He lets out a deep breath. "I know all of it, Evie. I've known it for years. Do you not think I've tried not to love you?"
"What?" A horrible feeling settles in my stomach at the words.
"I spent five and a half years away from the castle. Away from you. That's a lot of time to think. For a bit, I thought I was over you."
"And then you slept with Camille." I look down at my mug. "I know, you told me."
"I mean, I wasn't going to put it exactly like that," he responds.
"But yes. I thought that I was over my feelings for you, and I slept with Camille, but all it did was make me realise that I didn't want to be with her, I wanted to be with you.
And then your letters came. Every week, I'd promise that I wasn't going to respond to you, or that I was at least going to wait a day longer than usual.
But it didn't happen. I would read the letter as soon as it arrived, sometimes sneaking into the ice house or the pantry to do it, even though I should have been working.
And then I'd spend the rest of the day thinking about what I was going to tell you and what recipe I might share.
You were on my mind constantly for over five years. "
"I thought about you a lot too," I respond. "And I looked forward to getting your letters. I'm glad you sent them."
His smile reaches his warm brown eyes. "I'm glad I did too," he promises. "When I came back to visit with your cousins, I thought it would give me clarity. Maybe you'd changed in the five years we'd been apart."
"I'm sure I did."
"You did. But you were also the Evie I've always known.
The Evie I fell in love with, and you were right in front of me.
That was when I knew I'd have to tell you if I ever came back to the castle full-time.
When I went back to Wafeland, I spent the month thinking about what it might mean for my future if you said you didn't feel the same, but also about what would happen if you did. "
"What conclusion did you come to?" I whisper, almost not wanting to hear the answer.
"That it doesn't matter what the future holds, you're more important than that. I know that if I want to be with you in ten or twenty years' time, it's going to mean some changes. I'm not sure precisely what it's going to be, or how our life will look, but I know that we'll work it out."
"And we'll still bake," I promise.
The smile he gives me is so genuine that it makes me feel as if anything is possible. "Yes."
"I didn't realise you'd thought about all of that."
"It's hard not to when you're in love with a princess," he responds.
"I really didn't intend to make life harder for you."
"The thought of being without you scares me a lot more than what could be in store for us," he promises.
"Even Mama?"
He laughs. "Yes. She's just trying to protect you."
"It doesn't seem that way. Every time she tells me something about this, it makes me wonder if she knows me at all."
"Have you let her know you?" he asks.
I open my mouth to protest, but realise there isn't anything I can say. "I suppose not."
"I'm not saying that the meeting today was fun, because it wasn't. It was a reminder like she wanted it to be, but the hardest part wasn't hearing about the people who are coming to try and court you."
I frown. "It wasn't?"
"No. The hardest part was wanting to protect you and not being able to say anything."
"I wanted to do that too," I say. "I hated that you had to stand there, and bow, and act like..."
"A servant?" There's a slight note of amusement in his voice. "I am one, Evie."
"Well, I didn't like it. I didn't like that Marion had to sit so far back either. Normally, she's able to help me when I have questions, but not when I'm with Mama."
He nods. "Well, that's something you'll probably be able to change in time," he points out. "You've just got to have a little patience."
I let out a sigh. "True."
"You've got your whole life as a princess ahead of you, you've got time."
"What if I wanted to give it up for you?"
He shakes his head. "You shouldn't do that."
"Why not? The alternative is me asking you to give it all up for me."
"Because you'd be giving up more than me," he responds.
"I don't mean the potential to rule Falhaven or anything like that, but if you give up your position as princess, you'll be giving up spending as much time with Princess Veronica, and the freedom you have.
You'll be giving up doing a job you enjoy when it comes to planning menus and sorting out those things. I can find another job if I need to."
"But you love being a pastry chef."
"I love baking, and I love experimenting. I don't love having to create hundreds of the same dessert, or dealing with demanding briefs, or getting up early to make sure that the croissants are ready for breakfast."
I blink a few times. "I didn't realise."
"I've not had the job long enough to tell you," he responds.
"But I'm telling you now. I would be giving up a job I like, but that's it.
I wouldn't be giving up my own dream. You've said yourself that you still want to bake with me, so by that alone, I'll still get to do the thing I love. And I'll get to do it with you."
My heart flutters, even though I know I shouldn't let it when he's talking about giving up part of his life.
"Loving a princess doesn't come for free, Evie. I knew what it meant when I said it to you. Not that I was really thinking of much when you barged into the kitchen in your ballgown."
"It was an evening gown," I respond.
"Is it different?"
"There's less floof." I pick at my skirt to demonstrate.
He laughs. "Is that a technical term?"
"Not one you should ever use in front of the seamstresses or Kathryn."
"I don't think that's going to be a problem."
I reach out to take his free hand in mine and entwine our fingers. "This isn't a conversation we should be having a few weeks in, is it?"
"I don't know," he admits. "But I don't feel like we've only been together for a few weeks," he responds.
"No, I guess not." I lean my head against his shoulder and let out a sigh, feeling much more settled than before, even if I have no real answers.
But I suppose what I do have is someone who can help me navigate the world, and that's even better.