Page 5

The kitchens are busier than they were after the banquet, which makes sense considering I've been able to escape down here earlier today.

I smile at the people I pass, and most of them return the gesture, but don't stop to give any of the platitudes they would be expected to outside of the kitchens.

I'm glad about that. I understand that I'm a princess and there are certain things that are expected of me, but I'm in their space when I'm in the kitchens, and I don't expect anyone to stop their work because of me.

Besides, I think most of the kitchen staff are used to me being down here, and they're used to being able to ignore me.

I head into the small kitchen where I normally meet Nate to find him already there, putting some bread into proving boxes and setting them to the side. His father comes into the room before I can say anything and I smile at him. "Good evening, Mr Matthews."

"Your Highness," he responds.

"The new pastry you served tonight was delicious," I say. "With the lemon filling." It had been so sweet and tart at the same time, the perfect combination.

He nods. "Thank you, Your Highness. I was trying it before the visitors from Someil arrive, I've heard they like lemons, but I haven't had much of a chance to cook with them, they're expensive."

"I'm sure my father will approve the budget for more of them if I tell him it's to help impress the delegation from Someil," I say.

"If you would, that would be much appreciated."

"I'll see what I can do," I promise. I'm not sure if my father particularly cares about that kind of thing, but he normally approves extra budget requests for the kitchens when I ask for them.

I suspect that's why none of the cooks have ever really complained about the fact I'm here.

I suppose it could also be because I'm a princess, but I don't think so.

They made a big show of complaining about the time Arthur came down to the kitchens and stole some apple tarts, especially because he destroyed several other items in the process.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. Nathanial, would you soak the fruit cake once you're done here?" he asks Nate.

"Of course, Father."

Mr Matthews gives his son a curt nod and leaves the room, presumably to deal with something else.

"The lemon pastry was really good. Did you come up with it?" I ask Nate.

He laughs nervously and runs and runs his hand through his curly light brown hair before realising that means he has to go wash his hands. "What makes you ask that?"

"Your father is a good baker, but he likes things to be tried and true. You're the one who thinks about new flavours." I lean against the work table and watch him as he kneads the final round of dough.

Nate doesn't meet my gaze. "He made them."

"But it's your recipe," I finish for him. "One day, you're going to be running this kitchen, and Falhaven will be known as the kingdom to come to for tasty pastries."

He laughs. "I'm glad you have so much faith in me."

"Of course I do. I've seen you bake. I've eaten a lot of your baking. You love trying new flavours. I would bet that you're already thinking about how you can adapt the recipe from Lady An's cook into something new."

He chuckles. "I haven't even tried to make them yet. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Then we should get started," I announce.

"Hold on, there's something we should do first." He drops the dough into one of the proving boxes and pushes it over to the side of the room where it will benefit from the heat of the fire.

"Intriguing, but you know it's dangerous to get between me and baking."

Nate laughs. "I promise, this is in the pursuit of your baking," he assures me. "I might have managed to convince Lady An's cook to make us some tasters," Nate says.

"All right, tell me more."

He opens the oven door and uses an oven cloth to carry a tray with two buns over to the table, setting them down for us. He pulls a bowl closer to him and brushes each of the two buns with a clear sweet smelling liquid.

I pull a stool around so I can sit.

"There are a couple more in the steamer over there." He points towards the stove. "But they still need to rest for a couple of minutes, and they're sweet. These ones are savoury." He picks up one of the buns and holds it out to me.

I take it from him and pull it open. My mouth waters as a savoury-sweet smell hits my nose as the filling is revealed. "It's red."

"Yes, I was surprised about that too," Nate says as he sits down and opens his own bun. "She said that it was made with something called red yeast rice, but when I asked her if I could have some from her, she laughed."

"Oh. Is that going to be a problem for making them?" I try not to feel too disappointed about that. It wouldn't be the first time we've struggled to get hold of a specific ingredient.

He shakes his head. "She also admitted that it was just for colour, and that we could either leave it out, or use something else."

"Like beetroot juice?"

Nate smiles and pulls over a small bottle. "Already one step ahead of you."

"I'd expect nothing less," I respond. "The bun is so fluffy. It's almost like that bread your father made one time, with the butter."

"Brioche," Nate says. "It's a recipe he learned in Gaullesse, but he says it's a waste of butter."

"That's a shame, because I think Mama would love it." I pop some of the savoury bun into my mouth and let out a satisfied sigh. "That's beautiful bread. And the filling is good too."

"It is," he agrees.

I savour the insides, trying to work out what the flavours I can taste are.

The meat is definitely pork, but beyond that, I don't recognise much of it.

There are some spices within it, but they don't taste like the ones that come from Raajad across the sea, but it's definitely there.

I'm surprised by how sweet the whole thing is, while also being savoury.

"What's in it?" I ask, assuming he knows, because he's seen the recipe already.

"Some kind of roasted pork," he says. "But she basted it in something. She wouldn't give me the recipe for that, though."

"I suppose she has to keep some of her secrets," I grumble.

He laughs. "Maybe you can get it out of her."

"I don't think so. I know you're all happy for me to spend time in the kitchens, but I doubt she's going to be the same considering she doesn't know me."

"I hate to break it to you, Evie, but you're still a princess, and this is your kingdom. She'll likely have to do what you say."

I wrinkle my nose. "It's fine. I don't want to ruin my father's trade alliance by accidentally insulting a visiting cook." I put another bite of the bun into my mouth. "What's the sweetness on top?"

"Honey glaze." He gestures to the pot next to us. "I'm not sure it's necessary, but the cook said it was traditional."

"Then it stays," I respond, finishing it all. "What are the other ones?"

"Salted custard buns," he says, going over to the steamer and lifting something out of it.

"Oh, they sound nice."

They look different from the baked buns, with a shiny domed top which looks kind of like it's got a film over it.

"Try one." Nate holds the steamer basket out to me.

"Thank you." I take one and bounce it between my fingers. It's springy, especially compared to the other bun, which is probably because it's steamed rather than baked.

Slowly, I dig my thumbs into it and pull the bun open, causing a spurt of custard to shoot at me. "Ah."

An amused smile lifts at Nate's lips. "It's hot."

"Mmm, I got that," I respond. "It smells good. I think I get the salt. Is it just like when we make salted caramel?"

He shakes his head. "It's made with salted egg yolks," he says. "But the cook has only given me the recipe for the salted egg yolks and not the baos themselves, so we can't recreate these tonight."

"Oh." I try not to sound too disappointed, I know he's going above and beyond to make sure that I have some exciting new things to make. And I love him for it.

"I think I'll be able to persuade her," he promises. "What do you think?"

"That's so good. I love the salt." It cuts through the sweetness of the custard, giving it more dimension than it would have done otherwise.

Nate nods. "It is good."

"And the dough is too. It's so fluffy." I let out a contented sigh. The only thing that could make this better is if I got to make one of these.

"You said that she gave you the recipe for the salted egg yolks?"

He nods.

"And they're not just egg yolks with salt in them?"

"No. Salted egg yolks." He gives me a hand gesture that I assume means he needs a moment.

I wait patiently as he disappears into the storeroom and appears with a tiny piece of paper.

"She told me the instructions so quickly that I didn't have time to write them down better," he admits. "And my handwriting is terrible."

"Here, let me try." I hold my hand out for the piece of paper. Normally his handwriting is neat, but maybe that's because he's usually writing it for me, rather than scribbling himself down a note.

"I mean, you can..."

"I've had practice." I scan over the words on the scrap. "That's a lot of salt."

"Yes, I thought she was joking at first, but she was very insistent that's how much is necessary," he responds.

"Then I guess that's what we're doing. I'm glad she told you today if they need eight hours in the ice house."

"Me too, though she did say something about me buying some off her if I needed to. Apparently, Lady An loves to have them grated over her salads."

"Then we should be glad we can make our own rather than depriving Lady An," I respond. "Though I am somewhat intrigued about what they're going to taste like."

"Salty, one would assume."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "I gathered that much."

"You can find out tomorrow if we make them now."

"That's true. So, we need eggs, salt, and some wine of some kind?"

"Oh, right, the cook said something about that, she called it Shaoxing wine and said there was a bottle somewhere..." He searches through a load of bottles and pulls one out that contains an amber liquid. "Here we go."

I get out a couple of small ramekins and fill them with a layer of salt.

It feels like a bit of a waste to use so much, but I'm going to trust the recipe and hope that it tastes good when we're done.

The eggs are slippery as I use my hands to separate the yolk from the egg whites and slip them into small dips in the salt.

I look at Nate, hoping that I'm doing this right. The last thing I want to do is ruin our recipe because I don't know what I'm doing.

He just nods along, and I cover the yokes in another layer of salt before he pours on a splash of the Shaoxing wine. It smells a little like sherry, but also different at the same time, and it soaks into the salt quickly.

"Is that it?" I ask, checking between the scrap of paper containing his instructions and the eggs. It doesn't seem like a complicated thing, and yet it's not something I've come across before.

He nods. "That's it. We'll put them in the ice house and look at them tomorrow."

"It feels too simple."

He laughs. "We haven't tried to use them to bake with yet," he points out.

"Fair enough." But I'm looking forward to it. Discovering a new ingredient is always exciting, and this might even help me feel like I have common ground with the Shengda delegation, which can only be a good thing.