Page 2

It's already late by the time the banquet finishes, and I had to change before coming down to the kitchens. Not because I'm worried about my dress, I know how to bake without ruining my clothing, but because I couldn't stand a single moment more of having the itchy collar against my neck.

The kitchens are mostly empty by the time I finally arrive, though the spit boy is in place, turning the meat that will make up the centrepiece of tomorrow night's feast. He ignores me, and I do the same as I head through to a smaller room where a familiar figure is kneading bread.

Nate looks up when he hears me enter and flashes me a smile that I know he doesn't give to many other people. Or not that I've seen, anyway. I suppose there's a chance he gives it to someone outside the castle whom I've never met.

A strange feeling grows within me even as I think it. I know I don't have any right to insist that I'm his only friend, but sometimes it feels like that's what I want.

"I didn't expect you tonight," he says. "Isn't the banquet still going?"

"You thought I'd pass up on an excuse to escape down here and not have to make small talk with people who think they're more important than they are?"

Nate chuckles. "I think they are important, Evie. That's why they're the delegates for a foreign ruler."

"I suppose. I'm just glad that Kathryn is the one who has to deal with all of that, not me. I don't see the point of it all. They give us expensive gifts, and we give them back. Wouldn't it just be easier if no one gave anyone any gifts and everyone just retained their wealth?"

"I think it's seen as a show of friendship," he responds. "What did you get this time?"

"A dragon egg," I respond, taking it out of my pocket and holding it out for him to see. I don't normally bring my gifts down to the kitchen with me, mostly because they never need to come here. But this one is different.

"Huh, that's smaller than I'd expect a dragon egg to be," he admits.

I shrug. "Maybe it's for a small dragon. I don't know enough about them to know."

"What are you supposed to do with it now?" he asks.

"The ambassador said that I should keep it in a warm fire. I was wondering if I could put it in your oven?"

"Of course. I need to put the bread in the proving jar before I do anything else."

I nod and put the egg back in my pocket so that I can get it for him, setting the large brown pot on the workbench.

He folds the dough over on itself once more, before shaping it and lowering it gently into the pot. He covers it with a cloth and puts it back into position.

I wait patiently for him to wash his hands and come back, admiring the ease with which he moves around the kitchen as I do.

"All right, what have we got?" he asks.

"Dragon egg."

"Yes, you said that."

"Oh, no. That's it. A dragon egg and some vague instructions." I sigh and lean back against the workbench. "It was awful, I blurted out a question about what to do with it before I even said thank you. Mama is going to lecture me about etiquette tomorrow."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. You need to know how to look after a dragon."

"Exactly! That was what I said after I realised I'd made a mistake. That I just wanted to make sure that I looked after it properly. I think the ambassador believed me, but maybe he was just being polite."

"Can't you send a thank-you note, or something?"

"I'll do that too. Just in case. But I wish I was better at these things. I always seem to say the wrong thing." It's frustrating. I want to be a good princess and make my parents proud, but sometimes it feels as if it's impossible for me to achieve that.

"You haven't caused any political disasters yet, Evie, you're probably fine."

"That was before. I'm of age now, people are going to start talking if I can't manage to keep my tongue in check."

"You just need to keep yourself on safe subjects."

"I doubt the delegation from Shengda wants to hear my opinions on the different kinds of pastries," I murmur.

"Maybe not, but I do."

"You know all of my opinions on pastries." Mostly because he was there to form them with me.

"There's always time to gain more," he responds. "So, the dragon egg?"

I hand it to him without even thinking twice about it. I've known Nate for as long as I can remember, certainly from before I truly understood the difference between a princess and an apprentice pastry chef.

"It's very pretty," he says.

"It is. And it's supposed to stay in the fire in case it wants to hatch."

"And you want it to be this fire?" he asks, looking over to the oven.

"If that's all right. I'd put it in the fire in my room, but there are so many people coming in and out that I barely know, whereas here, it'll be safe with you." Not many people use this part of the kitchen unless there's a huge banquet on. It's normally just Nate, and sometimes his father.

Nate's warm brown eyes fill with an emotion I can't name, but I know it's a good one. And that I like it when he looks at me like that. "Let me clear some space for it, then we can put it in." He hands the egg back to me so he can pull on some gloves.

There's a scraping sound as he moves some of the stones in the oven, and it doesn't take me long to realise he's making a little nest for my dragon. I look down at the egg, wondering what I'm going to do if it actually hatches. "Do you think we could teach it to bake?" I muse.

Nate steps back from the oven and raises an eyebrow. "The dragon?"

"Yes. Imagine what it would be like if you could get a dragon to flambé something for you. Or toast the top of meringues. Oh, or those custards that your father makes sometimes. What are they called again?"

"Crème br?lées," he responds.

"Yes, those. I like them. But imagine if a dragon could do the caramelised sugar on top, wouldn't that be so much easier?"

"Probably. But I doubt anyone's thought of trying it. Dragons aren't exactly common, especially in kitchens."

"Well, this one is going to have to get used to kitchens," I respond. "It's going to be here all the time."

He chuckles. "It might get a bit big for that."

I look at the egg. "It doesn't seem that big."

"That's because it's a baby."

"Hmm. Then I'm going to have to research dragons from Shengda, because I need to know what I'm getting myself in for. Or maybe ask Arthur what he knows. He likes animals. But it might not even be an issue, they said it might not hatch."

"Well, let's put it in the oven and see what happens," Nate says, gesturing for me to do the honours.

The heat from the fire hits my skin, causing a warm glow to spread over me as I carefully lean in and place the egg in the nest of rocks he made for me.

It sits well there, shining green in the firelight.

I have no idea if it's going to hatch, but I'm interested in finding out what will happen to it.

And hopefully, if it does hatch, it'll be interested in baking, because that's exactly what I intend to do with it.

"So, what now?" I ask. "You've done the bread..."

He chuckles. "It's already after midnight and you want to bake?"

"I've spent the past five hours in a room with hundreds of people feeling like my dress was shredding my skin and that a single note was too loud. I would really like to bake now. I can do it alone if you need to sleep." I don't want him to stay up too late because of me.

"And miss out on time with my favourite royal?" he jokes.

"You shouldn't sacrifice sleep just to spend time with me," I say.

"I was going to be here anyway. Tomorrow's bread will be better with a longer prove, and my father was busy with the desserts for the banquet."

I grimace. "Didn't you help him with that?"

"Definitely not. He won't let me touch anything that important." There's a note of bitterness in his voice, and it makes my heart ache for him. He's spent years working hard to ensure he's up to his father's standards, he should be allowed to help with the baking.

"I'm sorry."

Nate flashes me a weak smile. "Don't be. He's been talking about getting me an apprenticeship now I'm nearly twenty."

"But you're already his apprentice," I point out.

He shrugs and gets some butter from the cool box, setting it on the large wooden table at the centre of the room along with some flour and sugar.

"He's always telling me that he was younger than me when he was apprenticed to a cook in Gaullesse, and that it's long past time that I should do the same.

It's only because of Ma that he hasn't done it already. "

"Oh." I frown. "Does that mean you're not going to stay at the castle?" A weird feeling settles within me.

"I don't know," he admits. "I don't really know what's going to happen."

There's a part of me that wishes I could blurt out that I don't want him to go, but I know it isn't my place to say that. I shouldn't stop him from pursuing his career.

"Let's not talk about it," he says. "I thought we could make some shortbread, it's not going to take long, but it'll be tasty."

"Shortbread sounds good," I respond, taking an apron off the wall and putting it on.

Even though I haven't started baking yet, I already feel the calmness settling in.

I think it's being in the kitchen with the soothing sounds of the fires, and the smells of things cooking, that make me feel more at home than the bustle of court life.

But when I'm baking, and following a recipe with set instructions and clear steps, it makes my mind calm in a way that nothing else does. And I'm grateful for a chance to be away from everything in the castle above, even if it's just for a couple of hours.