Chapter 4
The next morning, Sonya woke to the sound of roosters crowing. They seemed to be just outside her window, which was strange. She had never heard them this close before; the roosters were outside the kitchens, on the lowest floor of the castle, very far away from her high tower.
Had she fallen asleep in the kitchens last night? That had happened once. She had woken to the sound of roosters and been fiercely scolded by her father, as well as the head cook, Arabella.
Sonya opened her eyes, bracing for a scolding from Arabella now. It was early dawn, and she wasn’t in the kitchen at all. Her gaze strayed to the window across from her; the sky was barely pink, tufts of white clouds drifting.
Confusion rippled through her, and she rubbed her eyes. Usually, Sonya woke to the maids opening the thick curtains in her room to let in the sunlight—but there were no maids here. She wasn’t in the castle.
The night came back to her, and she sat up. The room was in worse shape in the daylight, teeming with boxes and baskets and odd objects. Sonya stretched her arms, cracking her neck. She hadn’t slept that badly; the mattress was comfortable, and the blanket was warm.
Sonya put the soft blanket aside and stood on the wood floors, barefoot. She had taken her wet socks off last night, and she found them on the floor. As she slipped them on, her hair fell in front of her face, and she touched the ends, which felt even shorter now.
There was a mirror in the corner of the room, and Sonya approached it. Her mouth fell open as she took in her reflection; she truly was unrecognizable.
Her usually flawless brown skin was streaked with dirt, and her hair.
‘Oh my goodness gracious,’ she whispered, touching her hair. It was just above her shoulders and an absolute mess, uneven and tangled and frizzy. There were some locks that had a wave and even a slight curl to them, but most of her hair had dried badly.
Sonya raked her hands through her hair, trying to fix it, though the act didn’t accomplish much. She put Elspeth’s boots back on, then opened the bedroom door, sticking her head onto the landing. It seemed everyone was still asleep.
With light footsteps, Sonya went to the bathroom, freshening up.
She stripped off her clothes and washed her body, then wet her hair and tried to smooth it.
There were still some knots, and it was too short to braid back, but that was the best she could do.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she could do with the dress, which was a bit damp still and most certainly dirty.
With a sigh, Sonya put the dress back on, then exited the bathroom. The door to the bedroom Azam had pointed out as his was firmly closed.
She went down the stairs and, in the hallway, she turned into the main living area, though not before glancing over her shoulder at the mystery door across the way.
She wondered what was behind it. There was a faded spot on the door where there probably used to be a sign, but Sonya couldn’t make out what it might have said.
She closed the door to the living room behind her so she wouldn’t wake the inhabitants of the cottage. It was small, and surely noise would travel. It wasn’t like the castle; if she was in her tower, she had no idea what else was going on.
After she closed the door, Sonya stood in front of it for a moment, taking everything in. The cottage was … messy, to say the least.
On her left was a fireplace and the living space arranged around it, while across from that was the kitchen, and on her right was the dining area. It was all in one big open area, with clutter in every space.
The wooden dining table to her right was covered with papers.
Some looked like notices or bills, while others were colored with paints.
The table had six chairs, though two of them were set in front of the fireplace on her left.
There was a blanket across one of the chairs and pillows from the sofa on a rug on the floor, beside the chairs.
There was ash all across the hearth and floor, as well as stray dolls and blocks. In one corner there was an old rocking horse. Sonya spotted knitting needles and a spool of bright yellow yarn on the sofa.
She went to the kitchen, where the sink was half filled with dirty dishes. There were half-clean hanging teacups and saucepans and ladles on the wall, along with shelves of stacked plates and bowls in disarray. The sight should have horrified her, but it felt quaint.
The cottage was messy, but it was lived in—a stark difference from her rooms at the castle, which were perfectly sterile thanks to Roshan’s worries for her health.
She looked around, wondering what she could do.
She wanted to thank Azam for his kindness.
If she had magic like her mother and Shahmir, she could have grown beautiful plants to give Azam; if she was like Irfan, she would find an adorable puppy; if she was like Mustafa, she could write him a gorgeous and moving letter.
But she didn’t have any magic. Sonya released a great big sigh. Those men in the tavern last night had been right: she was nothing special.
The very least she could do was make breakfast, even if she wasn’t a kitchen-witch.
She began by cleaning things so she’d have more space to work. She washed the dishes, then organized all the kitchenware, tidying up where she could. After a bit of organization, things looked much improved.
Afterwards, she found eggs and vegetables, along with bread and cheese. She lit the fire, which thankfully was easy, as the wood was already dry and the matches were right there on the mantle. She had seen the maids start the fires in her rooms enough times.
Finding the kettle, Sonya filled it with water, then set it to boil for tea. Then, she cooked eggs in a pan with some sliced vegetables and cheese. When that was done, she browned bread on a toasting fork.
After it was all ready, she cleared the dining table, then set it, finding matching plates and utensils. She tidied up the living area as well, and the space looked much more open than it had before.
Still, Sonya was worried she hadn’t done enough.
She knew how to cook only a little bit because she spent a lot of time in the kitchens with the head cook, Arabella.
She always loved watching the kitchen-witches at work.
Outside of her tutorial lessons, she hadn’t been allowed to do much else, let alone leave the castle, so spending time watching the kitchen-witches at work had helped to occupy her.
They were always so kind to her—she knew they had to be because she was the princess, but still, in a way, she had loved them. She knew each of their names and their stories.
She felt a painful twist in her chest. She would miss them.
As she looked at the breakfast spread now, she knew that Arabella, at least, would be proud of her for her work. Arabella was the one who had allowed Sonya to spend as much time as she wished in the kitchen, saying, ‘Come now, if you’re going to stick around you may as well help.’
She’d let Sonya stir the pot of chicken and chickpeas with a long wooden spoon, or baste the goat leg with gravy, or even knead the dough for bread. Easy things, and Sonya had known she wasn’t exactly contributing much, but it had made her happy. She was always pleased to be a part of something.
She felt that same pleasure now, making breakfast for Azam and his family. Of course, she did not have Arabella’s magic, but she hoped the breakfast would taste good anyway.
Everything finished, Sonya went to the door, wondering whether she should call Azam down or if it’d be more polite to knock on his door. But when she entered the hallway, she bumped right into Azam himself.
‘Oop!’
‘Sorry!’
Sonya stumbled back, and he caught her elbow, pulling her upright. He gave her a warm smile, amused, and a jolt ran down her spine as she looked up at him.
In the light, she noticed just how handsome he was.
‘Good morning,’ Azam said, hand still on her elbow. He smiled and she noticed that he had dimples in both cheeks.
‘Good morning,’ she replied. He let go of her elbow and ran a hand through his hair, which was messy from sleep.
As his arm moved, his shirt shifted; the white shirt was hastily tucked into his trousers and open at the throat.
The sight of his bare collarbone made her feel jittery for some reason, and she glanced down. He was barefoot.
‘I thought I heard someone down here,’ he said.
She looked back up at him. His voice. It was deep, a bit gravelly this early in the morning, and his accent made the words long and drawn out, like a song. She wanted to hear him speak again.
‘I guessed it was just the mice,’ he said, and she scrunched her nose.
‘I hate mice,’ she said with a shudder. He laughed an easy, open-mouthed laugh. It made her smile. He was so bright, so vivid. She tried to remember what she had been going to say. ‘I—I made breakfast,’ she managed. ‘I thought it was the very least I could do to thank you for your kindness.’
She stepped back into the room, and he followed.
When he glanced at the table, his face lit up.
‘Oh! You didn’t have to do all this, Sonya,’ he said, and a little shiver ran down her spine at the way he said her name.
He looked around. ‘And it’s so tidy! I haven’t seen this place so neat in … I can’t remember how long.’
She held her hands together, feeling shy. ‘I wanted to.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, turning back to her. His eyes were so very brown. ‘Breakfast looks delicious. I should go wake—’
He cut off at the sound of feet barreling down the stairs.
A moment later, a tiny figure shot into the room.
Sonya caught the flash of messy pigtails as a little girl launched herself into Azam with a delighted cry.
Alarm jolted through her, but Azam was unperturbed.
He seemed prepared for such an onslaught and easily caught his sister, tossing her into the air.