Page 6

With everything cleared away and the salted egg yolks safely in the ice house, it's finally time for baking. I'm both nervous and excited to be recreating the pork buns made by Lady An's cook.

I flip open my leatherbound journal to the right page while Nate gets some of the ingredients ready. "I already wrote the recipe down for myself, so this one is yours."

"You didn't have to do that, you could have kept the one I gave you."

"Well, now you can." I'm pleased with myself when I see the small smile on his face. I'm not very good at reading people, but it's possible when it comes to Nate.

"All right, well, everything's ready." He waves to the selection of ingredients.

"You don't have to do everything for me, you know," I say.

"This helps me too, Evie."

I open my mouth to say something, but he shakes his head.

"I get that you love baking, and I'm glad that you get to do this.

But I'm not just doing this for you. I'm doing it for me too.

Do you think I'd be able to try half of what I do if I couldn't tell my bosses that a princess wants to do it?

I'd never get a chance to try and make something just for fun.

So yes, I got everything ready, because this isn't just about you. "

I nod, looking down and trying not to let his words sting when they shouldn't. "I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," he assures me as he heads over to the sink to wash his hands.

"But you also don't need to pretend that I'm doing you some huge favour just because you're my friend.

I mean, I am doing this because I'm your friend, but I'm also doing it because I enjoy trying out new recipes and finding new methods.

The fact I like spending time with you is just an added advantage. "

"I like it too," I respond softly.

"Good. Do you want to check on your egg before we get started?"

I nod and head over to the oven. I grab one of the cloths to protect my hands and pull it open.

The heavy metal door is hot even through the protection, and the fire warms my face the moment the oven is open.

To the left, my green egg sits nestled between some hot stones.

The firelight glints off it, but it's otherwise unchanged since it was in the box Ambassador Zixian gave me.

"I wonder how we'll know when it's ready," I muse.

Nate laughs. "Presumably, when someone opens the oven and they find a dragon sitting there instead of an egg."

"Maybe I should have thought it through and put it somewhere else."

"It will be fine," he assures me. "What are the chances that I'm not going to be in here when it hatches?"

"I'll be glad if your face is the first my dragon sees," I respond. I close the oven door and go to wash my own hands so I'm ready to bake with Nate. "All right, what's first?" I ask as if I haven't read the recipe multiple times.

"We need to make the filling. Luckily, the delegation brought most of the ingredients we need with them." He waves over to where a couple of glass bottles sit. "We don't have several of these."

"Except for the red yeast rice."

"I think they have it, they just don't want to give it to us," he points out.

I make my way over and pick up one of the bottles. I unstopper it and smell it, wrinkling my nose. "That's strong."

"Yes."

"What is it called?"

"Soy sauce," he responds. "There are two types. The other one is dark soy sauce." He taps one of the other bottles.

"What's the difference?"

"I've honestly got no idea. But if any of your family members like it, then we're going to have to hope that trade negotiations go well and it can be imported from Shengda."

"I have no say in that."

"No, I didn't think you would."

"What else is there?"

"Some of the usual ingredients. Cornflour, honey, red onion, and roasted pork." He points to each of them in turn. "Then we have some oyster sauce." He picks up the bottle and holds it out to me.

I take it from him and unstopper the bottle. The smell isn't like anything I've smelled before, it's kind of malty. "You said it was oysters?"

"Mmhmm."

"It's not very fishy."

"Maybe it's how they make it?" he suggests.

"I think there's a lot still to learn about Shengdanese cooking."

"We can find out more now." The excitement is really starting to build now as we start to prepare.

"I need to cut the pork."

"I can do it if you want?" I suggest weakly. I'm not that good when it comes to chopping meat, but I'll still do it when I need to.

"Definitely not. I don't want to cut the onion." He picks up the red onion and holds it out to me. "All yours."

I laugh and take it from him. "Just because you don't want to cry in front of me."

"They don't affect you the same way they do me," he protests. "It's like you're immune to onions."

"Hardly. I suspect I don't cut enough of them to be affected by the worst of them.

" I set the onion down on the workbench and collect everything I need, only pausing to tie an apron around myself.

I wish I had one of my own, but I've never found anywhere selling them, and I haven't plucked up the courage to ask the royal tailor to make me one.

The knife moves through the onion seamlessly, and I enjoy the soothing clack of the metal against the chopping board. On the other side of the table, Nate dices the pork with ease. I'm not sure how he does it, especially after he's been in the kitchen for hours already.

"Are you ready for the next step?" Nate asks.

I nod and grab a jug from the shelves on the wall, adding about the right amount of water to it.

I put it on the table in front of the bottles of sauce and look at them a little nervously.

Not having used any of them before, I'm starting to feel a little uncertain about the prospect of mixing them together in case I get it wrong.

Nate doesn't seem to have as much of a problem and starts using the teaspoon measure to add the right amounts of each ingredient with the confidence of someone who feels like they might have made this before.

"What happens if I get the proportions wrong?" I ask Nate.

He shrugs. "Then we'll know for next time. Or we'll love it and it won't matter."

"Yes, but that's not the recipe."

"It's not the recipe yet ," he reminds me. "Aren't you the one who always tells me that recipes can be improved on?"

"True, but this isn't a recipe from Falhaven. I don't want to get it wrong."

"Trust in yourself, Evie," he says.

"Right. Yes." I take a deep breath and add the soy sauce, followed by the oyster sauce and spice blend. The latter is gloopier than I expect it to be, almost like honey rather than a liquid like the other two. I'm not sure what I expected, but this isn't that.

I mix it all up and lean in to smell it. I hold it out for Nate who does the same. His eyebrows shoot up, and he nods.

"It smells good," I say.

"It does," he agrees. "Hopefully, it will taste good too." He takes it from me and sets it by the stove where he's already put the oil on to heat.

I grab the onions from the bench and drop them in, hearing the satisfying sizzle as the oil begins to brown them.

"Will you grab the skimmer?" he asks.

"Which one is that again?" I look over at the hanging rack of utensils and try to remember which is the skimmer. I'm not so good at this part.

"It looks like a spoon with a sieve on the end of it."

"Oh, got it." I grab the one in question and hand it over to him.

He scoops out the onions as they finish cooking and puts them back in the bowl to use later. Or not, I don't recall reading that as one of the steps. "Are we supposed to put the onions in with the pork once we've cooked the sauce?" I ask.

Nate pauses in what he's doing, a confused expression on his face. "I don't actually know."

"I don't remember seeing it in the recipe."

"I guess we can decide when we get there," I respond. "Or assume that because they're not mentioned again, we don't do anything else with them?"

"Maybe you should make a note on the recipe about that when we're done," he says. "Then we can consider it for next time."

I nod and pick up a bowl of flour, pouring it into the oil and using a whisk to mix it. "Ready for the sauce."

He nods and picks up the jug, pouring it into the flour and oil mixture.

It sizzles for a moment, the aromas of the various ingredients mingling into a sweet spiced steam.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, really letting it sink in.

My mouth waters, and I realise that he's right about how all of it is going to taste together.

"Evie!"

"Sorry." I continue to stir the ingredients together until the sauce thickens.

Nate turns off the heat and brings over the dish with the pork in. "We can mix it in this, then I'll put it in the ice house until we're ready."

I nod and use one of the heat cloths to pick up the pan, being careful not to burn myself. I've had several nasty burns in the past, and they make my already frustrating-to-wear dresses even worse.

Nate mixes it up and nods. "All right, will you warm up the milk while I put this in the ice house?"

"Of course." I smile at him and start doing as he asks.

All of the thoughts of my day are already drifting away, thanks to the comfort of being in a kitchen I know and working alongside Nate. Working on something new just adds to that.