Chapter 7 Dominic #2
“Could you show me exactly how you measure it?” Sasha asked. “I’ve always been curious about the precise ratios.”
As the staff member began demonstrating, pulling out measuring spoons and various tea pots and explaining their process, another worker approached me with a small plate laden with cakes. He set it down in front of me with a respectful bow.
“Your Majesty should try them as well,” he said. “They’re divine.”
I selected one of the miniature cakes, decorated with delicate swirls of lavender frosting. The moment it touched my tongue, flavor exploded across my palate. It was sweet but not cloying, with hints of honey and something floral I couldn’t quite identify.
A groan escaped me before I could stop it.
Sasha’s gaze snapped to me, and I caught the flash of heat in her eyes before she looked away, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
I ate another cake, letting my appreciation show perhaps more vocally than was strictly necessary. The staff beamed, delighted that both their new queen and their king enjoyed their work.
Savory hopped closer along the counter, eyeing my plate.
“Don’t tell Sasha,” I whispered, breaking off a tiny piece and offering it to the raven when my wife’s attention was focused on the tea demonstration.
Savory snatched it up, her black eyes gleaming with what I could swear was amusement.
“I saw that,” Sasha said without looking over. “And you’re both going to regret it.”
Several staff members chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. The tension I’d sensed when we first entered had completely dissolved.
“Now, about the actual brewing process,” Sasha said. “Do you use spelled water or regular?”
“Regular water from the spring,” Alaina said. “Though we do heat it with controlled magic to ensure the perfect temperature. Too hot and you force the leaves, too cool and they don’t steep properly.”
“Temperature control must be tricky,” I said, curious now. “How do you manage it consistently?”
“Practice, Your Majesty,” Alaina said with a modest smile. “And a touch of natural talent, if I may say so. I’ve been doing this for thirty years or more.”
“It shows.” Sasha reached out toward the open tin of tea leaves, pausing before touching them. “May I?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Sasha’s fingers dipped into the tin, and I watched her face carefully. Her expression remained pleasant, interested, giving nothing away. But I noticed the slight tension in her shoulders and the way her fingers moved through the leaves with deliberate slowness.
“These are beautiful,” she said, lifting a small pinch to examine more closely. “The color is so vibrant.”
“That’s the moonlight drying process,” Alaina said. “It preserves the natural oils better than sun-drying.”
Sasha nodded, returning the leaves to the tin. “And you mentioned you prepare batches in advance sometimes. Where do you store those?”
“In the preparation room, through there.” Alaina gestured to a doorway at the back of the kitchen. “Would you like to see?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Sasha said.
We followed Alaina into the smaller room. Various containers on the wooden shelves lining the back wall held pre-measured portions of tea, labeled with dates and specific instructions. The organization was impressive, everything in its place and clearly marked.
Sasha examined several containers, asking about the dating system, how long prepared portions could be stored, and who had access to this room and the kitchen itself. Her questions seemed casual, like this was idle curiosity, but I was beginning to see the pattern in them.
She was tracking something. Building a timeline, maybe, or looking for opportunities when something could have been tampered with.
The giggling had to be connected to something in the tea.
I caught Sasha’s eye, and she gave me the tiniest nod, confirming my suspicion. That brief connection made my chest warm, but she quickly looked away, saying something about the timeline to Alaina. Deflecting again, keeping it to work.
“This has been incredibly helpful,” Sasha said, turning back to Alaina with a warm smile. “I appreciate you taking the time to show us everything. Would it be possible to take some of these tea leaves with us? I’d love to experiment a bit in our rooms, maybe try preparing some myself.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Alaina looked thrilled. “I’ll have a selection sent up to your suite right away. Different varieties so you can try various flavors.”
“That would be wonderful,” Sasha said. “And perhaps some of those cakes as well? They really are extraordinary.”
We returned to the main kitchen, and I sneaked another piece to Savory while Alaina was giving instructions to her staff about what to send up. The raven made a soft sound that could be approval or could be a warning about future digestive consequences.
“Is there anything specific you’d like to know about the other preparations?” Alaina asked, turning back to us. “The breakfast spreads, perhaps? Or the dinner menus?”
“Actually,” I said, following Sasha’s lead, “I’m curious about timing. When do you typically start preparing for breakfast service?”
“We prep pastries and breads the evening before, of course, to give them time to rise. But we begin prep for everything else a few hours before serving time. Setting the flour out. The spices we’ll use for breakfast. That sort of thing.
We start earlier for more elaborate meals, of course.
But for standard breakfast service, a few hours gives us plenty of time to have everything ready. ”
“Is there anything else you can tell me about the tea specifically?” Sasha asked.
“We prepare it about ten minutes before serving. We want it as fresh as possible, and piping hot, so we time it carefully. The leaves steep for exactly eight minutes, then we strain and bring the pots to the dining room.
I filed the time away, suspecting it might be important.
“Do you ever prepare tea in advance and reheat it?” I asked.
“Never, Your Majesty,” Alaina said, looking almost offended by the suggestion. “That would ruin the flavor completely. Fresh brewing only, always.”
Sasha nodded, seeming satisfied. “One last question, if you don’t mind. Where do the herbs you use for cooking come from?”
“Various sources,” Alaina said. “Some from the castle gardens, some from local suppliers in the market, and specialty items from traders who visit seasonally.”
“And you store those in the spice closet?” Sasha gestured toward the small room Lady Featherby had been in when we arrived.
“Most of them, yes. Though we also keep fresh herbs in the main kitchen for easy access.”
We followed her back into the herb room, though only Alaina could fit, and Sasha asked about specific varieties and their uses. She eased into the tiny room with Alaina and touched several containers, making comments about the quality and freshness.
I watched her work, impressed by how thoroughly she was gathering information without coming across as suspicious or accusatory. The staff remained relaxed, pleased to share their knowledge with someone who showed such true interest.
She was brilliant at this, which only made me want her more.
Finally, we made our way back to the main kitchen again. The bustle had resumed, staff moving through their tasks while pots bubbled and something with a cinnamon smell baked in one of the ovens.
Savory perched on the end of the counter, her head tilting this way and that.
“Thank you so much for your time,” Sasha told Alaina and the rest of the staff. “This has been incredibly informative. I look forward to trying my hand at preparing some tea myself.”
“It’s been our pleasure, Your Majesty,” Alaina said, beaming. “Truly. And don’t hesitate to come back if you have more questions or if you’d like to try your hand at cooking. We’d be honored to work with you.”
“I may take you up on that,” Sasha said with a smile that looked genuinely pleased.
We made our way toward the kitchen door, Savory launching herself from the counter to glide ahead of us.
I paused at the threshold, turning back.
“Thank you all for your excellent work and for your patience with our questions.”
A chorus of “Your Majesty” and various bows and curtsies followed us as we stepped out into the hallway.
The door closed behind us, muffling the sounds of the busy kitchen. The corridor stretched out ahead, empty and quiet compared to the warmth and activity we’d just left.
Savory soared toward the end of the hall, her wings feathering through the air.
Sasha walked beside me, her posture still straight but slightly more relaxed now that we were alone. I opened my mouth to ask what she’d discovered, what pattern she’d seen in the tea preparation process that I’d missed.
But before I could speak, a giggle emerged from her throat.
Then another.
Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening with shock as uncontrollable laughter began bubbling up from her chest. Her shoulders shook, and she stumbled, reaching out to steady herself against the wall.
My own amusement at seeing her finally affected by whatever curse had been plaguing the rest of us died instantly, replaced by concern.
She’d been fine until she ate those cakes.
Savory circled back and landed on a sconce nearby, tilting her head with what looked like concern as Sasha dissolved into helpless, uncontrollable laughter.
My own chuckles soon followed.