Chapter 12
Washing dishes wasn’t hard exactly. It wasn’t complicated, but it also wasn’t fun or fulfilling or…well, let’s just say I got more water on me than I’d anticipated, and it took far longer than I expected. Scrubbing the pot the stew had been cooked in was a nightmare, and I wondered if it had been washed ever.
The rest of the afternoon was spent with me wandering around watching everyone else. The big yard I’d assumed was a corral was actually a sparring ring. The group took turns fighting one another, but even my inexperienced eye could tell that they weren’t expending much energy. It was more playful than serious. I imagined it was because of the long trek through the woods and the fact it was late in the day.
Weylei had been tasked with making dinner, and I tagged along with him as he went to forage in the near woods. I discovered they’d hidden a kitchen garden among the trees, or what I thought of as a kitchen garden. Weylei was quiet as we dug for root vegetables and picked leaves and beans and tomatoes. I had so many questions for him, but I didn’t know where to start or if he would even answer me.
‘What’s this?’ I asked, holding up a long, fat, white vegetable he’d put in the basket.
‘Mooli,’ he replied, pulling up another one. ‘You’ve never had it?’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe?’
He shook his head, but I detected a small quirk of his lips which I assumed was a smile.
‘I have to admit I don’t know very much about food or cooking it,’ I said. ‘I know the names of dishes, like this amazing noodle dish the cook used to make. Nokedli. Have you had it?’
‘What’s in it?’
‘No idea,’ I replied, pulling some carrots out of the ground. I knew what they were, at least. “It had noodles and white creamy sauce and…chicken, I think? Maybe mushrooms? Actually, come to think of it, the noodles are called nokedli, and the dish it is served with can change, but the white one was my favourite.’
Weylei blinked up at me, and I realised I’d been babbling. I was just trying to make conversation. I didn’t like silence. I felt like I had to fill it, and since I couldn’t ask the questions I wanted to ask, babbling was the next best option. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best option. It was more like my default.
‘Do you know how to make it?’ he asked.
I shook my head slowly. I’d never set foot in the kitchen in the castle at home. There was no way the cook would have let me for a start and, well, it just wasn’t done. Mother communicated her wishes through the majordomo who then communicated it to the cook and the maids and footmen.
‘I will see if we have the ingredients to make noodles. I know how to make Coreyan noodles. Would you like to try them?’
I nodded enthusiastically. One, I was excited that I was correct that he had Coreyan heritage and second, anything was better than stew.
‘I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but I’m kind of over stew.’
He smiled warmly. ‘Parisar only knows how to make stew.’
‘Parisar?’ I stopped in shock. ‘Parisar made the stew?’
He nodded. ‘We all take turns. So will you.’
‘Oh, no,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I don’t think anyone wants to eat what I cook.’
He chuckled. ‘You won’t be expected to do it alone. Help me cook tonight, and I’ll show you a few things.’
‘O-kay,’ I replied, a little unsure. I was not confident in my abilities to cook anything. It all seemed so…technical.
‘It will also give you a head start on doing the dishes,’ he said. ‘You can wash the dishes as I cook, so after the meal all you need to do is the plates and utensils we used.’
It made sense, so I nodded. Plus, it would be good to learn to cook, especially if I was going to be in the rotation for the chore.
Weylei stood and picked up the basket. ‘This should be enough,’ he said.
I followed him back to the house. I expected him to set up outside near the fire pit as we had done previously, but he took the basket around the corner and into one of the outhouses near the main house. I breathed out in surprise as I realised it was a kitchen, or what I assumed was a kitchen since I’d never actually seen one. There was a large open fireplace with apparatus strung across it for holding pots and kettles. There was another circular fire pit as well, ringed with several rows of bricks.
Weylei went to a large wooden door in the floor and pulled it open, revealing a cellar. He went down the steps, and I followed him. Below the ground was a storage room with shelves stocked with boxes and urns and jars. On the floor were large clay pots that stood almost as tall as me. There was also a rack of wine or mead or…whatever it was they drank. No one had drunk anything but water on the trail through the woods, but I suspected tonight would be different.
I stood in the middle of the room and watched as Weylei moved confidently through the space. He stowed some of the vegetables we picked and added other vegetables to his basket. He also scooped grain out of one of the jars on the shelves and then a pungent concoction from one of the large clay pots.
‘What’s that?’ I asked, screwing up my nose at the smell.
‘Gimchi,’ he said, and then pointed to another jar. ‘Bring that and those.’
I was delighted to discover a crate of eggs. Where had they come from? I hadn’t seen any hens anywhere, or heard them for that matter.
We took our haul upstairs, and Weylei got me set up with an apron and a knife and showed me how to cut the vegetables.
‘I’ll be back,’ he said, leaving me alone with the knife.
‘Is that a good idea?’ a familiar voice said from the doorway as Weylei left.
‘I’m not going to stab you, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ I replied. ‘Not yet, at least.’
Parisar smirked as he swaggered into the room. He made the space feel smaller, somehow, as if his presence, more than his physical body, filled it. It made it hard to breathe.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, keeping my eyes on the vegetables I was cutting, taking extra care not to cut myself.
‘Checking up on you,’ he said, purposely ruffling my feathers.
‘Well, as you can see, I’m working, so you can just scurry on back to whatever you were doing before.’
Parisar was silent for so long that I looked up. He was watching me with such intensity that it stole my breath and my concentration, and only the pain of the knife slicing my flesh brought me back to my senses.
I dropped the knife and looked at the blood welling from the cut. I wasn’t afraid of blood. I had cut myself before but…but I suddenly felt faint.
‘Easy, Snow,’ Parisar murmured coming behind me and surrounding me with his arms and his heat and his scent. He cradled my elbow and steered me over to a seat where he helped me sit. Part of my brain was screaming at me to get it together. It was just a cut on my finger, nothing life threatening, but I couldn’t seem to shake the fugue, and to my horror, my cheeks felt wet.
‘Does it hurt?’ Parisar asked, kneeling before me, cupping my hand in the palm of one of his while he dabbed at the blood with a piece of cloth.
‘No,’ I sobbed. ‘It just stings a bit.’
The tears wouldn’t stop, and I had no idea why I was suddenly a blubbering mess in front of this man who had been friend, enemy, villain and now…protector?
‘It’s okay,’ he murmured. ‘It’s okay.’
‘It’s not,’ I replied between hiccups of tears. ‘Nothing is alright.’
He sighed but kept his eyes down. We both knew I wasn’t crying about the cut on my finger. We both knew I had reached my breaking point. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, and I was so confused and scared and tired and…it was a lot.
Parisar wrapped my finger gently and then scooped me up in his arms. I didn’t protest, even though I knew I should. He carried me out of the kitchen building, not saying a word to any of the others who watched us. I buried my head in his chest, not wanting them to see my weakness.
We went into the main house, and he stalked straight to the bedroom I would share with the others. He gently laid me down on the bed, but I clung to him, not willing yet to let go of the only anchor I had to my old life. Parisar might be my kidnapper, but he was also the only familiar thing in my life right at that moment, and I needed that more than anything. He was a touchstone.
With a sigh, he climbed onto the bed beside me and allowed me to curl against him. It wasn’t a truce, not really. More of just a cessation of fighting to regroup and recoup.
A long while later, I woke to darkness. I was alone. The mattress beside me was cold. Parisar had left some time ago. I was glad…I think. I didn’t know what I would say to him when I saw him again, so I suppose I was relieved he wasn’t there and I didn’t have to deal with it the minute I woke up. But there was also a sense of loss. He was gone, and I was once again left to feel unstable in this unfamiliar world.
I took a breath and sat up. My finger throbbed, but it didn’t hurt. I looked down at the bandage wrapped around it and sighed. So much for proving to everyone I was more than just a pampered princess.
A loud laugh from the common room drew my attention, and then the smell of food hit my nose and made my stomach grumble. I don’t think I’d ever experienced my stomach grumbling as much as it had in the last two days. It said a lot about how well I was fed in the castle. Never getting hungry, not really. It was a privilege I’d taken for granted.
I flipped the blanket off and slowly got out of bed. I’d need to face them all if I wanted to eat. At that moment, my hunger far outweighed my embarrassment. I took a deep breath and crossed the room to the door. I held my ear against it for a moment, but I couldn’t make out any of the words that were being said. There was a low rumble of conversation. But nothing was distinct. It made me feel…homesick. There was such a comfortable camaraderie between the seven members of the group that reminded me of family dinners at home. Me, my father, and my mother. We were a small family, but we were a family all the same. Sure, we fought, and my mother and I rarely saw eye-to-eye on things, but that didn’t mean I didn’t love her or she me. But here, I was alone. Not alone in the literal sense because I was surrounded by people, but for the first time in my life, I actually felt lonely.
I rocked my head to the side, pressing my forehead against the wood. I wanted to go home, but not just home. I wanted to go back. Back to before the other kingdoms came to Eudaimonia. I wanted to go back to before my father was sick and my mother was left to face the other kings alone. I wanted to go back even further than that. I wanted to go back to those summer days when Parisar and I were still friends, when the innocence of childhood covered all the political machinations in the court. A veil had been peeled back on my life, and now I saw the machine, the contrivance, beneath. The world I knew was a mirage, a carefully constructed and maintained fa?ade, and I had happily, wilfully, ignored what went on behind the scenes to keep it that way.
I could no longer ignore it. I could no longer choose to be ignorant.
The loss dropped into my stomach like a stone. The loss of my innocence. The loss of my na?veté. The loss of my childhood.
‘What are we going to do with her?’
The low female voice reached me through the door. It was a voice I recognised. Tain.
‘We follow the plan,’ Parisar replied.
‘This was not the plan,’ Tain hissed.
‘What do you suggest?’
There was a low snort, and I knew what Tain was thinking. She’d rather just kill me and be done with it or abandon me in the woods and leave me to my fate.
‘No,’ Parisar said. ‘We stick to the plan.’
‘I knew having a princess around would be a burden, but she is…she is ridiculous.’
I hated to admit it, but Tain was right. I was a burden to them. I had a meltdown over a cut finger. I didn’t know how to cook or hunt or fight. I was little more than a drain on their resources. Even my cleaning skills left much to be desired.
‘Give her time,’ Parisar said. ‘She just needs time to adjust.’
My heart warmed at Parisar’s words, even as Tain snorted again.
‘Fine. I know, okay? But what else can we do?’ Parisar said with a sigh.
Tain hummed in agreement and the warmth that had bloomed a moment before turned cold. Parisar thought I was just as hopeless as Tain did. That shouldn’t bother me. I’d already known what he thought of me, hadn’t I? So why did it hurt so much to hear him say it to someone else? To Tain, of all people?
Parisar spoke again. ‘This is the mission and we need to see it through. It’s the only way to get what we all want.’
I frowned. What did they want? What was the mission? Parisar told me they kidnapped me to save me, but this sounded like something else. This sounded like they had a different agenda than just keeping me safe.
Staying locked in my room and hiding from everyone wasn’t going to help me find out what they really wanted.
I straightened from the door and smoothed my clothes. I was getting used to the fitted pants and simple tunic. They were far more practical than any of the dresses I’d worn.
I took a breath, forced a smile to my lips and scuffed my boots on the floor so they would know I was awake. The last thing I wanted was to walk out and have them know I’d heard what they said. I waited a few more beats, making quiet footsteps where I stood before I deemed it safe to leave the room. Smile still on my face, I stepped out and yawned, stretching as if I had just woken up from the most luxurious nap.
‘She wakes,’ Breust said, a smirk on his lips.
‘What did I miss?’ I asked, pretending my emotional meltdown hadn’t happened. ‘I smell food.’
Weylei smiled shyly. ‘I saved some for you,’ he said.
There was a chorus of groans and protests from the others, but I just smiled serenely.
Weylei presented me with a bowl of noodles and broth and a pair of weird sticks.
‘What are these?’
‘To eat,’ he said.
Parisar handed me a fork, a utensil I was much more familiar with. I took it without looking at him. Weylei looked disappointed.
‘I don’t know how to use them,’ I said. ‘But maybe you could show me sometime?’
Weylei nodded, smiling again as he led me to the table. There were bowls of sliced and diced vegetables and one with that weird smelling gimchi he’d brought out of the clay urn from the cellar. I looked up at him as I sat.
‘Side dishes,’ he said. ‘You add them to your meal for flavour.’
I nodded and took some of the sliced vegetables that I recognised. I added it to my bowl and then twisted some of the noodles on my fork and lifted it to my mouth. I groaned as the flavours exploded across my tongue. It was the best thing I had ever tasted. It wasn’t nokedli, that was tiny little oval-shaped noodles, but it was delicious all the same.
‘Thank you,’ I said to Weylei with a wide grin. Maybe I wasn’t so lonely after all.