Page 34

Ignatia

We mix dough on top of the shiny counters in the shelter’s kitchen, competing to determine who will make the better bread.

We got our bowls and some other ingredients from the wood cabinets above.

It's a bit of a tight space between counters on one side and the oven and other machines on the other.

Around the corners of the counters is a living room area, with a sofa and a TV they call it.

"You know, the yeast you guys have looks different." I stare at the yeast as it bubbles with the water and sugar in my small bowl. I purse my lips before looking at Amias who is adding his yeast mixture to his flour.

"What else is it supposed to look like?" Amias immediately starts to hum as he stirs his dough together.

"Not little pellets. It's supposed to be a big block you cut a piece from." I watch Amias mix in silence. Soon enough, he starts kneading the dough. It’s mesmerizing to see him work like a street magician for little kids.

He must have done this many times before.

"You seem to know what you are doing." I angle my head to get a better view.

"I guess I've been doing this for a while." He shrugs as he keeps kneading. “Mother and I would bake bread a lot growing up.”

I glance back to my bowl with rye and cornmeal. It doesn’t look nearly as good.

I smirk at the flour bag Amias’ using, standing beside his bowl. It’s very light weight and sticky, easy to make a mess out of.

Would it be terrible of me to make a little mess for competition sake?

I dig in the bag to get a bit of flour before flicking it at him, making a mess on his shirt and some parts of his face.

He furrows his brows and groans, "Hey!"

I chuckle a moment, but it drifts off as he scrunches his nose at me. Suppressing my laughter, I glance away to my bowl and force a frown. "Sorry."

Oh Godusa… does this mean I’ve exposed myself? Is Amarian humor that much different from mine? What was I thinking, trying to mess around with Amara’s-

The sudden feeling of a soft substance on my face interrupts my thoughts. My eyes widen when he sweetly snorts.

I slowly turn to Amias, who is trying to maintain a scowl, but with his cheeks puffed and his eyes twinkling with laughter, his silly intentions are given away. He has his hand covered in flour, and I wipe my cheek to see flour smudged on my fingers.

I snicker to myself as Amias snorts again before completely succumbing to a fit of laughter.

His infectious laugh spreads to me as I dig into the bag to scoop more flour. He steps back slowly, still chuckling. "No, you don't!"

I throw the flour at him and he runs off laughing, rushing to the other side of the counter. He bounces his knees, ready to run. I grab some more flour and give into the chase.

"Stop!" He goes around the corner to the living room area. He creeps backwards behind the gray couch. “We have to clean up afterwards!”

"Not after you just declared war!"

He rushes back to the other side of the counter and grabs more flour, spinning around quickly to throw it at me. I try to block it with my hand but some of it still lands on my face.

I shake my head free of the substance before running to attack him again. He goes to race away again but my hand grabs his wrist too fast. I pull, forcing him to face me, and push his back against the counter.

"You’re a mad woman!" he chortles before I rub my flour filled hand and rub it all over his face. He tries to turn away but it does not help as I rub it all over his temple and cheek.

"There we go," I snigger. I then rub the flour hand on his head, messing up his sandy blonde hair. He tries to hold my hands away but it's not enough to escape the flour. "Stop, I'm making you look prettier."

"You…" he groans.

"There you go, Captain Prettyface," I smirk as I look up, satisfied with my work. My hands are placed on either side of him in the counter, preventing him from moving away. "I think this means I won."

"It was a battle won. Not the war," he purrs, a smile spreading across his face.

“We'll see about it, Prettyface, ” I chuckle at the nickname.

“Are you gonna keep calling me that?”

“Yes. I quite like it.”

He scowls. “Couldn't you have chosen something more manly?”

I roll my eyes, about to say another snarky comment, when I make eye contact again and notice his gaze had softened.

Those blue eyes. Sweet, welcoming, and warm are those eyes. I could just look into them forever and forget about how cruel the world is. They make me feel assured and protected.

And pinned against the counter, with his lips parted slightly and his pupils dilated, he just looks… a little helpless for me… just like me for him…

If I wasn't a dreamscreecher and him not being Amara’s grandson, I would make out with him right now. I would be his. He would be mine. His complaints about this soulmateless bullshit would be no more.

Everyone would know he's mine. His grandmother, his family and the whole damn kingdom can fuck off!

"Clara," he murmurs, with that low gentle voice, as soothing as gentle waves lapping on the shore.

His voice makes my body tingle. Warmth floods my body.

What was all of that?

"Are you okay?" he whispers. His brows scrunch. “You have something on your lips.”

I raise my brows while wiping my lips. Looking at my fingers, there's a lilac colored liquid smudged on my skin.

My body tenses as I lick my teeth. My canines have gotten sharper, accompanied by a salty metallic taste on my tongue.

I can't seriously be thinking about marking Amara's grandson! That's literally how I'll get killed!

“Oh it's… it's some lavender… dessert I had earlier.” I say the last bit confidently and firmly as I can. Hopefully he doesn't suspect anything.

He cocks his head. “And it's been on your lips this whole time?”

“Why?” I smirk. “Are you looking to kiss me?”

His eyes widen and he pushes lightly at my shoulders. He blushes. “Says the one pinning me against the counter.”

I chuckle as I step back, letting him stand from the counter. It's amusing to see him so flustered.

I snicker at him, but then start thinking back to earlier. It's scary to realize that he triggered my canines and that possessive voice in my head. That's never happened with any man before.

He can’t be the one that I mark, right? Considering who he is, it's like playing with fire.

Especially knowing I can end up like Rayden, with Amias getting manipulated into killing me like Lydia did to him. Especially knowing I'm completely disobeying my father's words.

I twist my lips. I can't let that side get in control of me. I shouldn't be feeling that way towards Amias anyways and it's highly doubtful he or any Amarians would take a marking as the sign of love.

And in this case, there's no room to blame him. No bite mark could ever replace Amara’s soulmate arrangements.

“Now where were we?” Amias titters, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I immediately snap back to where the bowls of bread dough are. "We still need to finish up."

"And clean up," Amias sighs. "Let's do this."

◆◆◆

We wait for the bread to cool after letting the dough rise and bake. I look up at the time on the clock. It's morning seven.

“Can ten minutes go by any faster?” I whisper. My stomach is killing me for baking something so complicated.

“Maybe don't choose something that will keep you up all night.”

We're sitting up on the couch, nearly knee to knee as we watching what they call a TV.

It's strange seeing the images roll by. Amias had spoken a simplified enchantment, which led it to automatically play his chosen so called “movey”.

The rim of the black box glows orange, as people get into drama about soulmates on screen.

Amias sighs. "I don't want you to feel pressured but… if you feel comfortable… do you want to come to my birthday party?"

I crease my brows and turn to him, burying half of my face into the back cushion. "Your birthday party? At the castle?"

“No pressure… I just wanted to leave the option open for you."

My lips twist. Me? Going to the grandson of Amara's birthday? "Why?"

"Well we're friends, right? You've given me trust to sleep in your room. I can invite you to my party.” He smiles softly. “I think it would be fun. Plus my Mother wants to meet you after that phone call today."

"She does?" I can't have that happen. Would she come searching for me? Is it because she thinks we're dating or something?

"Yeah. She just wants to get to know you. She likes to know people I hang out with. Only if you're comfortable with that. She would understand if you weren't."

I clench my teeth. I could risk coming around her, considering I rarely battled in my human form, so she wouldn't recognize me from looks alone. But if she has another way of finding out who I am, that's how I'd get killed. "I'm sorry for saying this but no. I can't do that."

He nods slowly, a small frown forms upon his lips. "That's okay."

"I can't meet your mother." A shudder goes down my spine when I think about how Amara had hurt us dreamscreechers.

I know through battle and stories being told.

A lot of us who've fought against her have been killed.

Even if I'm just meeting her daughter, I can't risk it. "Never, Amias. I can never meet her."

He quickly nods, though his eyes shining in disappointment. “Yeah. I'll never have you meet her."

My heart sinks. "But… I will do something for your birthday."

He gives a small smile. “You don't have to do that, but thank you."

The movie continues as it falls silent, but I find myself leaning on his shoulder. It almost feels like Amias' shoulder was designed for my head. It just feels too perfect.

I take in a deep breath, the scent of amare flowers on him welcoming me. There's a sense of calmness whenever I breathe it in. I could bury myself into that smell.

Why do I feel this way about him? I want to ignore my own plans, and stay here with him to fix things. I want to touch him. I want play with the flour all over again. I want to go to the party and have a fun time with him. I love being around him.

If anyone were to find out about us and who I am, this can very well be used against me if they cleanse him.

I look up from his shoulder. “Would they cleanse you if you spoke for dreamscreechers?”

He quirks his brows before shaking his head. “Grandmother wouldn't let that happen to me. Neither would mother. They don't believe in that stuff.”

“Then why don't they just make it illegal?”

“It was a request from Amarians themselves. They just wanted to forget the lies they were fed so they wouldn't fall into them again.”

I scoff. “That shit shouldn't be allowed. You don't get anywhere with that kind of suppression.”

“I know. It's messed up.” Then he grins. “But we're gonna be the ones to change that.”

With that gentle but confident smile, he seems more optimistic than I do about changing everyone else's mind. If he already has that much faith, maybe I should too.

I return his smile. We got this.

A melody plays in his pockets, and Amias stands. "The bread should be done. Want to settle this competition?"

I follow him with a smirk. “Yes, let's do it!"

We walk over to the bread sitting on the counters on a cutting board. Compared to mine, Amias’ looks smooth with a golden brown shell and a long crack in the middle. Meanwhile my bread has pieces of cornmeal sticking out and looks rough. I can already see mine will lose.

He saws a slice of my bread with a special bread knife he got from the cabinet and takes a bite, and I do the same. It's grainy but warm and delicious enough for me.

"Hm. It's good!" Amias murmurs as he chews.

"Thanks," I say as I gobble down my slice. I missed making bread.

"Okay, let's do mine." He goes over to his bread and cuts a slice. The inside has a lot of holes.

He hands me a slice and I immediately take a bite. The inside is chewy and has a hint of a sourness to it, but it mixes perfectly with the buttery and crispy edge.

Damn, it's perfect. I playfully pout. "I think I know who the winner is." I take a mouthful of the bread, and close my eyes to take in the taste. I hum in delight. "Yours is so good!"

"Thank you," Amias chirps. "It's an old recipe my mother taught me. I mean, yours is really good too!"

I nod. "You will have to teach me how you did it."

"I can," he says, looking between the bread. "You know, I usually go to the orphanage on Mondays. We could take some slices over there. Besides, I don't want to miss out on seeing my little sourdough again!"

I raise a brow. "Sourdough?"

"She's my little girl. Her real name is Sabina but I like to call her Sourdough because she's a little sour too."

There's a little gleam in his eyes as he talks about her.

He seems really fond of her, almost like how my father was towards me.

When he would get focused on work, his face would light up in my presence.

He would pick me up and carry me around while doing tasks, and talk to me about his job as a knight.

With that gleam, Amias must really love her.

"Are you planning on adopting her?" It's so cute that Amias and Sabina seem to have that kind of bond.

"I really want to!" he exclaims. His eyes seem to twinkle even more. "She really deserves a family. She's just so sweet and I like to think I'd make a good father. I'd do anything for her."

My cheeks ache from my growing smile. "That's sweet."

"You have to meet her!" He yawns before shaking his head. "That's after I take a nap. I'll stop home and get a fresh nap before picking you up.”

“You could take a nap upstairs, remember?” I perk my brows.

He laughs. “I’d hog the sheets. Besides, you probably need a nap too. It might be better to have your bed to yourself.

I just realize how heavy my own eyes feel. Yes, it would be better to get a nap in. “Alright. Sounds fair.”

He leaves for home and I walk back into my room to take a nap.