cuisine
I finally look at the clue, my eyes narrowing as I study the parchment. There’s a drawing of something that looks like two people eating a… cake together? The image is crude but clear enough. Below it, there’s a line of text:‘The meal of…’ Of what? The rest is smudged or intentionally left blank. I frown, turning the parchment over, but there’s nothing on the back.
I glance around. A candle flickers not too far away, its light casting soft shadows on the wall. Without thinking, I walk over to it, not caring if Cardan follows me or not. I hold the parchment up to the flame, tilting it slightly to see if there’s any hidden writing that only appears against the light.
"You have a habit of vanishing."
His voice comes from behind me, dry and unamused.
Or maybe you should pay more attention. I think, but I don’t say it out loud. Instead, I keep my focus on the parchment, squinting as I try to make out any faint marks or symbols.
"What are you doing?"
he asks, his tone laced with curiosity now.
"Checking if there’s anything hidden against the light"
I reply, squinting at the parchment.
"And? Did it work?"
he asks, stepping closer.
I pause. Strange. He was barely interested a moment ago, and now he’s suddenly full of questions.
"I don’t think so. Do you want to check?"
I shift slightly to make room.
He gives me an unimpressed look, then shakes his head.
"I’ll pass."
I shrug, stepping away from the candle. Well, it seemed strange that he was interested in the first place. Maybe he’s just bored.
I step away from the candle and drift toward some of the nearby pairs. If I can catch a glimpse of their clues, maybe I can figure out if they’re connected to ours. But as soon as they see me approaching, they lower their voices and pull their parchments close to their chests, their expressions guarded. One of them even turns their back to me, blocking my view entirely.
I sigh, stepping back. So much for that idea.
"What exactly are we doing?"
Cardan asks, appearing beside me.
We? That’s generous.
"Trying to interpret our clue" I mutter, still studying the others.
Cardan tilts his head, his gaze flicking to the couples who are now huddled together, whispering furiously.
"We need to go to the kitchens"
He exhales like he’s humoring me.
"The kitchens?"
I ask, frowning.
He looks at me as if I’ve just asked something incredibly stupid.
"The drawing"
he says
"Two people eating cake. The kitchens are where the food is prepared. It’s not exactly a hidden meaning."
I blink at him.
He gives me a slow look, the kind that makes me feel like I’m missing something obvious.
"Unless you think there's some grand mystery to it?"
Now he's going to think I'm stupid, and I honestly don't blame him. It's a good thing Elowyn isn't here or I'm sure she would have taken back her words for finding me 'brilliant' right away. All that talk about paying attention to the clues got me thinking about who knows what.
I stare at him, my frustration bubbling to the surface.
"And if you knew that, why didn’t you tell me?"
His lips curl slightly.
"I didn’t think there was any need"
his tone infuriatingly casual
"I assumed you’d figure it out eventually."
I take a deep breath and nod.
"Fine. Let’s go to the kitchens."
Cardan tilts his head.
"I don’t take orders from you."
Seriously? Does he want to start an argument?
"I didn’t give you any order."
I say, keeping my voice annoyed.
"It seems like you want to take the lead."
I resist the urge to groan.
"Well luckily for you I'm not one to take charge, and even if I wanted to I can’t do that, since I have no idea where the kitchens even are. I don’t live in the palace."
I stress the words, hoping he gets how ridiculous he’s being.
He makes a strange face, just for a second, before his expression smooths over.
That’s when it hits me.
"Wait. Do you know where the kitchens are?"
His jaw tightens.
"Of course I do."
I stare at him, unconvinced. I mean, I get that he's a prince, but surely he knows the basics of his own home? Right?
He lifts his chin.
"Let's go."
I hesitate for half a second before stepping after him. Let’s just hope he’s not bluffing.
The halls are quiet, the soft sound of our footsteps echoing against the stone walls. I keep a few steps behind him, partly out of spite and partly because I don’t want to give him the idea that I’m eager to follow him. But as we turn down another corridor, I can’t help but glance around, trying to memorize the path. Just in case.
Cardan doesn’t look back, but I can feel his awareness of me, the way he seems to know exactly where I am without turning his head. It’s unnerving, and I hate how much it bothers me.
Finally, we reach a set of double doors, the scent of baked goods and spices wafting through the air. Cardan pushes the doors open with a flourish, stepping inside without waiting for me. I follow, my eyes scanning the room. The kitchens are bustling with activity, someone's moving about with trays and pots, their movements quick and precise.
Cardan leans against the doorway, his arms crossed, as if he’s waiting for me to do something. I glance at him, then back at the room.
“What now?”
I ask him, my tone sharp.
“We’re in the kitchens”
he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
I hold back a sarcastic remark, biting the inside of my cheek.
“I see that”
my voice is tight.
“What are you doing there?”
He just shrugs, his gaze drifting to his fingernails as if they’re the most fascinating thing in the room.
I glare at him. So he’s decided his job is done by bringing me to the kitchens, and now it’s up to me to figure out the rest. Nice teamwork. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm, and stride into the kitchen.
“Hello”
I wave awkwardly to the ones working inside, but they barely glance at me. One of them glares for a moment before turning back to their task, their expression cold and dismissive. I guess everyone here is just so friendly. I should have expected that.
I shake off the awkwardness and focus on what I need to do. My eyes scan the room, searching for any clues. Near the back of the kitchen, I spot a cake sitting on a table, its frosting smooth and pristine. It’s not the same as the one in the drawing, but I guess they meant any cake, right?
I approach it cautiously, careful not to disturb anything. The two working nearby don’t seem to notice me, one is bent over a pot of what looks like soup, while the other is focused on the oven. I glance around, making sure no one is watching, before grabbing a knife from the counter.
I cut a slice of the cake, my movements quick but careful. At first glance, it looks completely normal, just a regular cake with no obvious clues. But just in case, I divide the cake into four smaller slices, examining each one closely.
I see something glinting inside one of the pieces. I carefully pull it out, my stomach turning slightly at the sight. It’s a note, wrapped around a fork. Not exactly the most hygienic thing to find inside a cake. Hygiene probably isn’t high on their list of priorities of a treasure hunt.
I unwrap the note, my eyes scanning the words.
Before I can process what it means, Cardan snatches the note from my hand. I hadn’t even heard him come in, but suddenly he’s right behind me, his chest pressed against my back. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat as I feel the warmth of him, the solidness of his presence. He reads the note over my shoulder, his face so close I can see the faintest hint of stubble along his jawline, the way his dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he focuses on the words.
From this angle, I can’t help but notice how obnoxiously beautiful he is. His features are sharp and perfectly symmetrical, his lips curved in a gorgeous shape, his eyes moving as he reads. It’s unfair, really, that someone so insufferable can look like this.
His voice breaks the silence, low and smooth.
“Everything is sweeter when shared” he reads aloud, his tone mocking.
“How… poetic.”
I clear my throat and take a step forward, putting some distance between us.
"Could you not snatch things out of my hands?"
I say, shooting him a glare.
Cardan twirls the note between his fingers, utterly unbothered.
"It’s not my fault you’re so easily caught off guard."
I exhale sharply, refusing to take the bait. Instead, I focus on the message.
"‘Everything is sweeter when shared’?" I repeat.
"That’s our next clue."
Cardan hums in thought, then glances at the cake.
"Seems obvious enough."
I frown.
"Does it? Because I’d love to hear what kind of grand interpretation you have this time."
He smirks.
"Oh, don’t sound so doubtful. I think you’ll enjoy this one."
Before I can react, he picks up the fork from one of the slices I cut and holds it out toward me with some cake on it.
I stare at it. "What are you doing?"
"I'm sharing" he says smoothly.
"I can do this myself"
I snap, reaching for the fork and placing my hand on top of his to take it. But he doesn’t let go. Instead, he places his other hand on top of mine, his fingers warm and firm as he tries to stop me from pulling the fork away.
"I’m following the clue"
he says, his voice low and teasing. He tilts his head toward the parchment on the table, where the image of two people feeding each other is still visible.
I glance at the drawing, then back at him, my jaw tightening. He’s enjoying this far too much. But I don’t have time to argue, not with the other pairs likely already moving on to the next clue. Reluctantly, I remove my hand, surrendering, and take the bite as quickly as I can, my eyes locked on his with as much disdain as I can muster.
Cardan seems amused, his smirk widening as he places the fork back on the table. I grab it before he can react, cutting another piece of cake and holding it out to him, the fork hovering in front of his mouth.
He looks at the fork, then at me, his expression shifting to one of mock horror.
"You just ate with that"
he says, his tone dripping with exaggerated disgust.
Oh, now he wants to be picky? I raise an eyebrow.
"We’ve already gone beyond sharing the same fork, don’t you think?"
I pause, then add, with my tone laced with challenge
"Or are you shocked that something touched my mouth?"
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. I’m referring, of course, to the kiss we shared—the one he’s never mentioned, the one I’ve tried to forget. Something in his gaze changes, a flicker of something darker, more intense, as if he’s just accepted my challenge.
He slowly leans toward me, his movements almost predatory. His eyes never leave mine as he opens his mouth, taking the bite of cake from the fork with a slowness that feels intentional, calculated. The way his lips part slightly, the lazy, almost absentminded way his tongue flicks over the sweetness, like he knows exactly what he's doing—makes my breath catch in my throat.
I grip the fork tighter, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck.
Cardan chews leisurely, watching me with a glint in his eyes that makes my pulse stutter.
"There. Satisfied?"
he finally says, licking a crumb from the corner of his mouth.
I swallow hard.
"Deeply."
My voice is steady, but I hate that I have to try to keep it that way.
He leans in slightly, enough that I catch the faint scent of something dark and spiced—wine, maybe, or whatever ridiculous perfume he douses himself in.
"You like my face, Lilia?"
I snap out of it, shoving the fork into his hand. I was staring at him and he noticed.
"You took forever to chew."
His smirk widens.
"I like to savor things."
"Great to know"
I mutter, turning to move away. But he doesn’t let me. In one smooth motion, he steps closer, his body blocking my path. I stumble back slightly, my hips hitting the edge of the table as he rests his hands on either side of me, caging me in. My breath catches, and I lean back, putting as much distance between us as I can.
I glance around the room, my heart pounding. The kitchen is eerily quiet now, the ones who were working here seemingly gone. I don’t hear any noises, any footsteps, anything.
"We’re not alone"
I say, my voice tight, though I’m not entirely sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.
Cardan leans in closer, his face inches from mine. His breath is warm against my skin, and I can see the faintest hint of stubble along his jawline, the way his lips curve into that infuriating smirk.
"What if we were?"
I swallow hard. His gaze is intense, and I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or testing me.
"But we’re not."
I say firmly, though my voice wavers slightly.
"Are you sure?"
he murmurs, his gaze flicking over my shoulder. I turn to look, and sure enough, the two who were cooking are gone. The room is empty, silent except for the faint hum of the palace beyond.
I turn back to him, my brow furrowing.
"When—"
He doesn’t let me finish. One second, I’m speaking, and the next, his lips crash against mine, stealing the words right out of my mouth. It’s slow, not rushed.
He tastes sweet, like the cake we just ate. His hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair as he tilts my head, deepening the kiss with an aching softness that I’m not sure I can process. I don’t even know if I mean to respond, but my body moves on its own, leaning into him, my leg brushing against his. A low hum vibrates in his throat, and then his hand is on my thigh, fingers pressing into my skin before slipping beneath it. With maddening ease, he lifts me, pulling me flush against him until there’s no space left between us, only heat, only the unbearable closeness of him.
His warmth seeps into me, his touch sending sparks racing through my veins. The world outside this moment fades, slipping into silence, leaving only the steady rhythm of our breaths and the maddening thrum of my heartbeat. It's as if I've been waiting all this time for his lips to be on mine again; It’s dizzying, intoxicating, and I hate how much I don’t hate it. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out reason, drowning out everything but the maddening, traitorous way my own lips move against his. He’s so good at this. Too good.
And then, he slows. The kiss lingers, softer now, but no less consuming. When I open my eyes again, he’s looking at me, his gaze intense, his breath uneven. My own heart is racing, and I force myself to speak, to break the spell.
"I’d like to remind you that we’re supposed to be solving a clue"
I say, my tone light but my voice trembling slightly.
"We are"
he replies, his voice low and rough.
I frown, confused, and glance toward the parchment on the table. The image is changing, the lines shifting and reforming until it shows one of the figures kissing the other on the cheek, the cake still in the background. Then, slowly, the image fades, creating another figure.
Irritation floods through me, hot and sharp.
"You did it for the game?"
I ask, my voice tight
Cardan’s smirk returns, though there’s something softer in it now.
"You thought I had an ulterior motive?"
he replies, his tone light but his eyes still sharp.
I push him away, my hands pressing against his chest, and he lets me, stepping back without protest. My cheeks are burning, and I can’t tell if I’m more angry or embarrassed. I grab the parchment from the table, my movements quick and jerky, and turn to leave the kitchens without another word.
Cardan doesn’t follow me immediately, but I can feel his gaze on my back as I walk away. My fingers tighten around the parchment. My heart is still hammering in my chest, but I don’t know if it’s from the kiss or the realization that it was all part of the game.
I'm so pissed right now, and I don't even know why.
And yet, I pause just outside the kitchens, staring at the dried parchment as if it might reveal something more.
A kiss on the cheek. That was all that was needed to reveal the next clue.
But that wasn’t what happened, was it?
For someone who said he wouldn't be able to sleep after kissing me he surely likes to do it. I hope he'll never be able to sleep well for his whole life. I exhale sharply, pressing my lips together.
Footsteps sound behind me. I don’t turn, but I know it’s him.
A new image appears on the scroll, and I groan in frustration.
"Oh, come on!"
I say, my voice sharp with irritation. This treasure hunt is turning into something far more complicated and far more personal than I bargained for.
Cardan approaches me, his movements unhurried, and I shove the scroll into his hands without a word. He takes it. There are two images now: one depicts two people holding hands, the other shows two people hugging. My stomach twists as I glance at the images, then back at Cardan.
His reaction is surprisingly calm.
"Oh"
he says, his tone almost casual, as if this is just another minor inconvenience.
I can’t help but look at his lips as he examines the scroll, my mind drifting back to the kiss in the kitchen. For a moment, a traitorous thought crosses my mind—a fleeting, dangerous desire to feel his lips on mine again.
"It looks like the hall of mirrors"
Cardan says, his voice breaking the silence. He’s still studying the images, his brow slightly furrowed.
I blink, coming back to my senses. How can he be so calm while I’m here struggling to keep my composure?
"Do you know where it is?"
I ask him
He glares at me, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.
"I just asked"
I say, my voice defensive.
"It’s a simple question."
"I know where it is" he says
"But I’m not sure if you can handle it."
I frown, my frustration bubbling to the surface.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
He steps closer, his gaze never leaving mine.
"They say the hall of mirrors isn’t just a place"
he says, his voice low and smooth.
"It’s a test. A reflection of who you are or who you want to be, of your desires. Not everyone comes out the same way they went in, and all that blah blah blah"
he adds, gesturing vaguely with one hand, as if the idea is beneath him.
I stare at him, my mind racing. Is he trying to warn me? Or is this just another one of his stupid games? Either way, I don’t have time to second-guess myself.
"I’ll be fine"
I say, my voice firm.
"Can we go already?"
He steps back, gesturing for me to follow with a flourish of his hand.
We walk in silence, the weight of the next task pressing against me like a second skin. Holding hands? Hugging? After that kiss? The game is clearly designed to humiliate me, to push me into situations I’d rather avoid.
We turn a corner, and the hall ahead shimmers with golden light. The Hall of Mirrors. My steps slow almost instinctively, my stomach knotting with unease.
Cardan notices immediately.
"Nervous?"
he asks, his tone all teasing.
I don’t want to show it, but I guess it’s obvious. I don’t answer, instead squaring my shoulders and stepping forward. He follows close behind, his presence like a shadow I can’t shake.