Chapter 3
Bitter. That was the only word she had said. Not a single word about the masterpiece he had presented.
Matthias turned away from the presentation table.
She was smaller than he expected. The way everyone spoke of her, as though she were a monster or shrew, he had been expecting someone who physically took up more space.
Not someone with cheekbones sharper than a knife who could probably fit through the crack of a closed door.
If he had actually thought about it, Matthias realized he shouldn’t have been surprised. The rumors said she never ate in public, but having seen her, Matthias wondered if she ever ate at all.
It was hard to tell whether her nose turned up at the food before her, or whether that slight lift was just the natural tilt of its tip.
And then she had pretended to eat his chocolate. She had watched his face with the same calculating gaze that he had been training in on her. She had wanted to see his reaction.
But he was certain the baked cocoa paste he had made had never entered her mouth.
Interesting.
He was intrigued. He had to be, if he was going to crack her.
At the far end of the table, she stood with her arms crossed, one hand holding the opposite sleeve while she spoke with the three Codex Masters who were judging today’s presentation.
After a few moments, the Head of the Academy turned to address the room.
Matthias found himself unable to focus on the man’s booming voice as he congratulated the students and invited eight of them forward, one by one to collect the silver pin that marked their new title of Codex Apprentice.
He smiled when his name was called, and bowed to the head master as he gratefully accepted the cold metal weight into his palm. He was pleased, of course, that he had passed. But his journey as an apprentice would be over before it had begun if he did not win another title today.
King Leon had appeared quite pleased with the choux crowns, but it was Augustin’s gloire cake that he had invited Una to taste.
When the rest of the pins had been awarded—one of them even to Devrin—King Leon rose from his place of honor.
His broad smile put the entire room at ease, and he raised his hands to the side.
"A fine year, my good flouriers," he announced.
"You have done Lamera proud. And you have fed your king well. "
He had not conferred with the judges, or looked at the slates. Just as Devrin had warned, the king would choose a favorite based on his preference alone.
Reaching down to the vast spread of food on the separate table in front of him, the king lifted a round crown of choux pastry covered in a web of spun sugar.
"This." The king's beaming face somehow grew brighter. “I enjoyed every bite that I had the pleasure of tasting today, but I kept reaching for more of this.” He held the circle up to the room. “This is the heart of Lamera, through and through. Who made this?”
Matthias stepped forward, a growing pressure in his ears making him doubt himself. “I did, Your Majesty.”
King Leon nodded. “Well made, young man, well made. My year will taste better than ever with your pastry gracing my table.”
Matthias bowed low, his heart racing. By the time he stood, the king had returned to his seat and was deep in conversation with the man seated next to him.
"You did it!" Devrin yelled, clapping Matthias on the back.
Matthias bent forward under the weight of his friend's hand. Perhaps that was why Devrin struggled with his pastries—the man was much stronger than he looked.
"Royal Apprentice Flourier!" Devrin continued.
Matthias smiled and let his friend celebrate the moment while his mind tried to acknowledge that he had truly done it. At least the next step was secured. He still had a year of studying under Renaud. A year to crack the girl who had pretended to take a bite.
"And you even got her to take a bite," Devrin said. "That's more than most men can say."
Matthias smiled, hoping the action would inspire the feeling it was meant to be communicating.
Somehow, what he had gotten was worse than a bite.
"I'll miss you, of course," Devrin said. "The kitchens will be quite lonely in the early mornings. Just me and a wooden spoon and no one to hear my woes."
"You can come here," Matthias said. "The palace kitchen is a real, working kitchen. It's likely awake and alive before the rest of the city has a breath to stir."
"You've only just won the title and already you act as if you own the place." Devrin shook his head. "I don't think your new mentor would enjoy two apprentices underfoot."
Matthias followed Devrin's gaze toward the tall, stern man standing on the other side of the presentation table. He was speaking with Headmaster Pavard, their large gold wheat pins shining proudly atop their yellow master's hats.
At least Matthias now knew where the daughter got her height—though the father was far more filled out, as a good flourier should be.
"Do you think they're talking about the . . . letter?" Devrin's voice was hushed.
Matthias snapped his gaze back to his friend, dread pooling in his stomach. Why had his first thought, a moment ago, been of the daughter? Devrin's worry was far more pressing. "Why would you bring that up in the middle of a crowded room?"
"No one is listening," Devrin defended himself.
"Everyone is looking at me," Matthias said. "I just won the position we were all vying for."
"I wasn't," Devrin said, shaking his head.
Matthias felt heat creep up the back of his neck. What if the Headmaster and the Royal Flourier were discussing him? "I need a moment." He stepped away from his friend and made his way across the crowded room, smiling and nodding at the congratulatory cheers that followed him.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped through a small side door into a quieter hall. But the pounding in his heart took far longer to slow—and beneath it, stubborn as the dark square she had refused to swallow, sat the certainty that the real work had not yet even begun.