Chapter 19 The Burnt Thank You Gift
I slammed Ben's report facedown on the table. Plak.
I leaned back into the sofa, staring up at the carved ceiling. Out of all the dumb romance tropes a second male lead could have, why did Julian Vance have to be traumatized by an eye color? And why brown? The exact shade currently sitting in Gisella's eyelids.
If I pushed them together using some cliché romance trick like making her drop a handkerchief, he wouldn't fall in love.
He'd probably draw his sword thinking she was his evil stepmother reincarnated.
You can't approach a rigid holy knight with basic flirting.
He'd just run away. I needed a professional excuse.
Something that forced him to meet us for work, not some boring social climbing.
BAM!
The lounge door flew open without a single knock. There went my brainstorming session.
Gisella stomped in wearing a saffron-yellow house dress that was just as loud as her party outfit. She had black smudges on her right cheek and her blonde hair looked like she'd just survived a backyard brawl. In her hands, she held a fancy white porcelain plate covered with a gold-trimmed lid.
I quickly shoved Ben's paper under a couch cushion. "Gisella? Why didn't you use the front door and let Hans announce you?"
"Too slow!" She dumped the plate onto the table with a loud clink. "I used the back entrance. I brought you something. A thank you gift for saving my face yesterday."
I stared at the covered plate, squinting. "What is it?"
With a massive proud grin stretching across her face, Gisella whipped the lid off. "Butter cookies! I made them myself since four this morning. My maids were literally crying they were so moved."
I looked down at the plate. They were solid black. The tops were cracked like charcoal chunks fresh out of a furnace. The heavy smell of burnt dough immediately filled the room, completely killing my nice chamomile scent.
They weren't crying tears of joy, Gisella. They were mourning the kitchen you just slaughtered.
"It's... a bit overcooked, isn't it?" I tried to keep my voice even so she wouldn't start throwing things.
"No, it's the caramelization effect!" she argued, totally serious. "Eat up, Ilse. I didn't even give any to Didier. I wanted you to have the first bite. You're my best friend now."
I swallowed hard. My hand shook a little as I picked up a piece of the charcoal. It felt like an actual rock. I shoved the edge into my mouth and bit down.
CRUNCH.
The sound inside my head was horrifying. There was no butter texture. It was bitter, dry, and tasted like compressed cement mix. I forced myself to chew, trying to keep a straight face while my brain panicked over how my stomach was going to digest a literal stone.
"Well? Good, right?" Gisella beamed, her brown eyes wide with anticipation.
"Very... dense," I choked out, the burnt crumbs scratching my throat. "One bite and you're full."
She looked incredibly pleased, immediately rambling about her next tea party. I was still struggling to shove the remaining brick-cookie to the side of my cheek so I could swallow it without choking to death.
Then, heavy footsteps came rushing down the hallway. Three sharp knocks. Hans's emergency code.
"Come in!" I barked, grabbing my tea to wash down the cement.
Hans threw the door open, looking ten times whiter than usual. He didn't even bother with the royal bow. He just stood there, panting, looking back and forth between me and Gisella.
"Lady Ilse, Lady Gisella," Hans's voice shook. "Massive news from the city gate. The main military faction just arrived. The Grand General, the Prince's half-brother... Duke Claus d'Alen?on just crossed the main gates and is marching straight to the inner palace."
My teacup rattled against the saucer.
The dangerous man who wasn't supposed to show up for another three months in the book just stepped foot in the capital today. Claus, a guy way more unpredictable and terrifying than Julian Vance, was already here.