Chapter 9
My dress whispers against the stone floor of the corridor leading to the kitchen, the sound travelling right through me. Perhaps I should ask Betsy to talk to the seamstresses and get the hem raised slightly so it doesn't do it again.
Marion doesn't have the same problem. Her skirt stops above her boots in a much more practical cut.
But I know Mama would never let me wear a dress like that.
Her argument is that there are some things that are expected of a princess, and one of them is dressing in the appropriate way.
I'm lucky she's allowed me to have the alterations that I like done.
I enter the kitchen, nodding to several of the members of staff before I get to the meeting room where we'll discuss the menu for the banquet. As soon as I get there, the five people in the room rise to their feet, all of them bowing to me.
"Your Highness," Chef Martina says.
I nod in response. "Thank you all for coming," I say as I take my seat, with my private secretary beside me.
She gets out her journal and the scratchy pen. I know she has to write down a note about what we decide, but it still fills me with dread to know that I'm going to have to listen to it.
Chef Martina clears her throat. "Your Highness, may I introduce the chefs from Wafeland? I believe you know Chef Matthews..."
I look over in Nate's direction and smile.
He nods his head. "Your Highness." There's something in the way that he says it that feels like it's some kind of secret between us.
"And this is Chef Hooft," she gestures to the man on Nate's left. "He'll be in charge of cooking meals for the Gravin Van Bergdal. She can't eat fish."
"Ah, yes. Welcome to Falhaven, Chef Hooft," I say.
He dips his head. "Your welcome is appreciated, Your Highness," he responds in a heavy Wafelandian accent.
"Thank you both for coming to the meeting," I say. "We're here to discuss the menu for the banquet celebrating the treaty between our two kingdoms."
Chef Martina nods. "Normally, we do a seasonal menu for the banquet, celebrating dishes from both Falhaven and Wafeland."
"I think that would be good. Though I did wonder whether it might be a good idea to include a dish inspired by Someilian cuisine now that Princess Solana is part of our royal family," I suggest. "Perhaps a lemon tart.
Oh, or a cake. Maybe a cheesecake." Mama does love cheesecake.
Or maybe I can think of something better.
Nate's father clears his throat. I should have known he wouldn't be pleased with my suggestion. I'm not sure what it is about me, but he rarely seems to like the input I have into menus.
"Yes, Chef Matthews?" Martina asks, making me realise how confusing it's going to be by having Nate and his father referred to by the same title in the kitchen.
"Is it really suitable to make a dish inspired by Someil when that's not the kingdom that's being celebrated?" he asks.
Nate straightens in his seat.
"I do not believe Graaf Van Bergdal would have an issue with something inspired by Someil," Chef Hooft says. "And Gravin Johanna is particularly fond of lemons when she can have them."
Nate's father doesn't look particularly happy about the response and leans back in his seat.
"Perhaps a compromise," Martina says. "We could adapt a Falhavien or Wafelandian recipe to incorporate lemons."
"Perhaps a lemon stuffed chicken?" I suggest.
"An excellent choice, Your Highness," Martina says. "That is something we can consider."
"A baked lemon cheesecake, like Princess Evelyn suggested, might be a good choice," Nate says, glancing at me with a reassuring expression on his face. "Is cheesecake still one of the Queen's favourites?"
I smile in response. "It is."
Martina nods. "Excellent. That won't be a problem, will it, Chef Matthews?" she asks Nate's father.
He makes a noise in response that I assume is agreement.
"Excellent," Martina says before leading us into a more in-depth discussion about the various dishes.
I'm mostly here to give input about what my family will like for the celebrations.
I'm surprised by how easily the other chef from Wafeland is taking my input, but he seems fairly at ease with it.
Maybe someone in his household has the same position as I do.
Marion doesn't say much, but the scratching from beside me lets me know that she's still making notes, presumably so that she can brief the steward on any updates he needs to know about. I won't pretend to know much about that part of how her job, or even mine, works.
Martina calls an end to the meeting, bowing to me before she leaves to head back out into the kitchen. The others follow her, each of them saying something to me as they pass, though Nate's father seems a little off.
My private secretary looks over to Nate, who is the only other person left in the room besides us. Marion clears her throat and dips into a small bow. "I'll take my leave, Your Highness."
I nod, ultimately dismissing her, and she slips away, leaving me alone with Nate.
"Thank you for backing me up about the cheesecake," I say to Nate. "I don't think your father wanted to make it."
He chuckles and leans against the wall beside me. "He didn't. And he's not happy that he's been overridden."
I frown, thinking back over the conversation to see if I can pinpoint exactly what makes Nate think that. I suppose he did look a little frustrated. "Is it going to be a problem?"
"I doubt it. He just doesn't like change."
"That isn't surprising. Veronica and Artie were complaining the other day that desserts haven't been as varied since you left, and they're looking forward to having something different again."
He raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"They're not wrong. Your father's desserts are delicious, but he makes the same five or six over and over again."
"That's one way of putting it," Nate responds. "But I was more wondering about the fact that you were talking to your siblings about me."
"They recognised your writing," I respond. "Veronica was disappointed that you didn't send any stroopwafels."
"So if I want to get on your sister's good side, then I need to make her stroopwafels?" he checks.
"She did say that you could teach me instead."
"That can be arranged. Luckily, I brought a waffle iron to give to you already."
My eyes widen. "You did?"
"I figured that if I knew you had a good one, I could send you recipes that need one."
"That's sweet," I respond, my voice cracking as I say the words.
"But?"
I shake my head. "It's just reminded me that we've not got long together."
He reaches out and brushes a hand against my arm. It's more physically affectionate than we've been in the past, but I like it. It feels right to interact with him like this. "We'll make the most of it, Evie," he promises.
Tears sting at the corners of my eyes. "I like it when you call me by my name."
"What?"
"You called me Evie."
"I always call you Evie," he points out. "Unless other people are around."
"I know. I just...I like it. Only my family calls me Evie."
There's something about the way he's looking at me that makes me feel like the moment is important, but I can't quite work out what it means.
"Not many people call me Nate anymore either," he says. "It's mostly Chef Matthews, and sometimes Nathaniel."
"Nathaniel suits you," I say. "But Nate is better."
"You would say that."
"I do."
Footsteps sound, and we jump apart as if we've done something wrong just as Chef Hooft appears in the doorway. He seems surprised when he spots me and bows immediately.
"Apologies, Your Highness," he says in his thick accent. "I did not realise you were still here."
"I'm just leaving," I say in response. "I will leave Chef Matthews to you." I look at Nate and smile at him.
He returns it. "Your Highness." He bows, but his eyes remain on me.
As much as I don't want to, I tear myself away from both Nate and the kitchen. I'll be back later in order to spend time with him, and no one is going to interrupt us then.