Page 25 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Marietta

A servant took Marietta through the palace halls, heading towards the section she stayed in as she ground her teeth.

Communication was something she excelled at—she talked to people for a living.

Under normal circumstances, she lived for it; yet, in that room of elven nobility, she felt unsure of herself.

Frustrated, self-doubt snaked its way into her head.

Keyain had erased so much of her. Did he also take her ability to speak to people?

As for Queen Valeriya, Marietta didn’t know what to think.

If in a different scenario, Marietta would enjoy her company.

Gods, they would even be friends. The Queen was the kind of person who saw things others didn’t, whose mind missed nothing.

Marietta would need to tread carefully with her.

It could be used against her as well, after all.

The kitchen bustled as Marietta arrived, servants darting from task to task as voices called and laughed. The cacophony of chopping knives, the stirring of pots, and the attendants who worked them filled her ears. Her heart swelled at the familiarity of her home.

Large ovens stood against the outdoor walls and ample counter space occupied the kitchen. Workers set up at stations went about their jobs. They were of better quality than the ones Marietta had at her bakery. She and Tilan had planned to upgrade their ovens the following year.

A mix of longing and jealousy filled her. All her dreams with Tilan were dead. She would never get those ovens. It was likely she would never bake again. This kitchen taunted her, reminding her of the life she had lost. The room spun around her, her vision dizzy.

An older male elf was the first to notice her and the servant. “My lady, welcome. What can I do for you today?” He was slender with long silver hair braided back and held an air of authority.

“I’ve missed both meals if you have something quick for me to eat,” she said, her voice far away. As she watched the busy kitchen, her mind remained stuck, remembering the life she once had.

The elf furrowed his brows. “Of course, my lady. Please, have a seat.” He bowed his head and stepped into the fray of the kitchen.

Baked bread’s mouthwatering scent hung thick around her as she sat at a small table across from the ovens. Marietta thought of the flatbread she made with blue cheese and how Tilan had teased her about it relentlessly. It brought a smile to her face, her eyes lining with tears.

“My lady, is everything alright?” The elven man returned with a plate of cheese, bread, and olives, setting them down on the table.

With a quick hand, she wiped away the tears.

“I’m alright.” Marietta should have just said thank you and let him go about his business, but she couldn’t help herself.

“The pies… use spirits instead of water for the crust. And when the berries aren’t a good batch, add a bit of lemon and cinnamon.

The lemon will brighten and cinnamon will warm the flavor.

” Marietta picked at the plate of food, avoiding eye contact.

“Please don’t take offense, my lady, but I find myself skeptical that you would know more than my bakers,” he said, his mouth frowning.

“The pie I had with the Queen this afternoon was fine, but the crust could’ve been flakier. And the filling tasted one-noted,” she said between bites.

A heavy sigh left his mouth, his hands tightening and loosening at his sides. “I’ll look at the recipe, my lady. Everyone’s a critic until they do it themselves,” he said with a weak smile.

Marietta stood, swallowing her bite. “Then I’ll do it myself. Do you have an apron?”

The elf took a step back. “You... you can’t be serious, my lady. It would be improper for you to do such a basic task.” He held up his hand as he apologized.

Marietta remembered Keyain was a prominent figure in Satiros. Her lips curved into a sweet smile. “I mean no trouble, but as Lady Marietta Vallynte,” she said, her throat tightening at the false name, “I’m going to ask if I can use your kitchen.”

The name registered as his eyes grew wide. “Oh, Lady Marietta. My apologies, here,” he said, ushering her to a spot while asking someone to grab her an apron.

Marietta gave him a list of items to get and began working on her version of the pie. Stepping into a kitchen felt so routine. All she was missing was the gossiping of her own workers around her.

The rhythm of baking came with ease, her muscles remembering the flow of her process. On a day where everything felt wrong, this was the first to feel right. She put all of herself into the pie as if it would help prove Keyain hadn’t erased that part of her.

A kitchen worker brought spirits to her station, and she began working it into the flour for the pie crust. Though it was still spring, the berries appeared in season.

She popped one into her mouth, the fruit tart and juicy, surprising her.

Removing that much flavor from the fruit took an extraordinary amount of skill—and not in a positive way.

Marietta added the berries to a pot with water on the stove, letting them come to a boil before adding sugar, lemon juice, and a dash of cinnamon.

She took the dough and rolled it into thin sheets, draping it over the pie tin.After trimming the edge, she struck small holes in the bottom before pouring her cooled pie filling. An idea came to her as she went to add the top crust.

Marietta took a knife, cutting the dough into narrow strips to create the stalks of the vine pattern she had seen around the palace.

Woven throughout the vine pattern, she added small leaves and placed them over the pie.

To ensure the crust was golden brown when it came out of the oven, she brushed on egg mixed with water.

She slid the pie into the oven and wiped her hands off on her apron. Satisfied, she thought it was a pie she would have been proud to sell in her shop. Marietta paused, realizing the room had gone quiet as the kitchen workers all stood around her station slack-jawed.

The elven man’s mouth hung open as he asked, “Dare I ask where a noble lady learned to bake like that?”

She bit her tongue. The truth would bring more questions. Did anyone know she was a baker? Half-truths would have to work. “One of life’s greatest pleasures is making things for others to enjoy. Some ladies stitch, others paint. I prefer to bake.”

“Even so, in all my years running this kitchen, I have never once seen a noble use it.” His brows furrowed.

“By the sounds of it, I’m a first of many things for this court.” Marietta took off her apron and folded it, leaving it at the workstation.

At her table once more, Marietta ignored the gawking workers. The pie had distracted her from her hunger, which gnawed at her once more.

The kitchen blurred as the excitement passed.

No one bothered Marietta as she ate, waiting for her pie to bake.

Lost in her thoughts, Marietta devoured the food, thinking of her workers in Olkia.

Did one of them discover Tilan’s body? That she was missing?

Or did Keyain’s army march on her home before they got the chance?

She sent a prayer to whatever god was listening, hoping they were okay.

Each of them came to her to train, dreaming of opening their own bakeries one day.

After an hour had passed, she returned to the oven.

As she pulled it out, the crust was golden brown, and the sweet scent of berries and buttery crust intoxicating.

The pie was one of her best. If only she could stay to confirm it, but she needed to return.

Keyain would be waiting, and he didn’t need to know about her performance in the kitchen.

The elf found her as she set the pie on the counter to cool.

“It looks perfect, Lady Marietta,” he said in an incredulous voice, his brows raised.

She smiled. “I’m sorry for taking up a spot in your kitchen. Satiros has differed greatly from Olkia. But you have offered me the greatest comfort.” Her hands crossed over her chest.

“I’m happy to have brought you some relief, and I apologize.

I forgot you came from Olkia. A shame what happened to it,” he said, his eyes far off as he thought.

“Some friends just traveled there last year. They raved about a bakery in the downtown area. It had an absurd name, like Rising Bread, or Raisin Above something….” He rubbed his chin in thought.

“I can’t remember. Does it sound familiar to you? ”

“Unfortunately, no,” she replied with a sad smile, her heart cracking with the lie.