by Aya Ling
“Elle. Henry. Would you two mind going to the kitchen and bringing back the food baskets for us? I’ve already instructed the kitchens to prepare lunch for us. Edward and I will set up the tables in the greenhouse over there.”
Elle glances at Henry, a hopeful look in her eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, he offers his hand. “Let’s go.”
They head toward the kitchens, hand in hand. “Good luck,” I whisper. I hope that my little manipulation will work.
Another rumble from my stomach prompts me to take further action. I clap my hands twice to get the students’ attention.
“Girls,” I call. “It’s time for lunch. Henry and Elle have gone to fetch the food for us.”
At the sound of ‘food,’ the girls perk up with expectant grins. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s hungry.
“I’ve reserved one of the greenhouses, as it’s too chilly outside for a picnic. Come on, girls. Let’s set up the tables for lunch.”
The girls whoop and come over to me. I lead them to an adjoining greenhouse, an extra space that I’ve managed to convince Galen to let us use. A pile of red-checkered tablecloths, neatly folded, lies in one corner, on top of a stack of stools. I take the pile and start distributing the tablecloths, directing the girls—those who are tall enough—to help me spread out the cloths over the table.
“But Your Highness,” a girl says. “Why can’t we get the servants to prepare the tables for us?”
“Because they have their own jobs to do,” I say, pulling out the stools. “They already had to do extra work because of our outing today. Besides, you wouldn’t like to feel helpless without servants, would you?”
The girl stares at me for a moment before shaking her head. “I guess not,” she says slowly. I think she isn’t unwilling to set the tables, but rather she never thought anything about servants doing extra work.
“Edward?” I crook a finger at my husband. “Can you help me separate these stools?”
A collective gasp comes from the girls. I’m probably the only person they have ever seen who dares to order the prince to do stuff. Well, not exactly ‘ordering,’ but Edward always seems more like the person to have others serve him, not the other way around.
Edward doesn’t say anything. He simply strides toward me and takes the stools.
“Thanks.” I smile at him and put my hand on his arm. “You’re the best.”
His mouth curves up slightly. “Another of your world’s phrases?”
Oops. I give him a guilty grin before going over to Rosie, who’s struggling with another girl with an overly large tablecloth.
Together, we fix up our lunch in the greenhouse. I made the right decision in having the girls pitch in, as everyone seems to be having fun, though whenever Edward lends a hand, the girls near him giggle and blush. No surprise there.
Just when we’re carrying several glazed pots of pink and purple cineraria, beautifully arranged with asparagus fern, to the tables, Elle and Henry arrive. The aroma of meat pies, apple-and-cinnamon cake, and hot chocolate permeates the air.
“All right, girls, don’t push or fight. There’s plenty for all,” I say. “Elle, can you hand out the forks and knives . . . oh, there’s the napkins. Right, let’s all sit down and tuck in.”
Lunch turns out to be a greater success than I expected. Not only do the girls enjoy the meal, but it seems that Henry and Elle have also grown a bit closer. When Lizzie, an adorable four-year-old who’s also the youngest pupil in school, complains that she doesn’t want any salad, both Henry and Elle admonish her.
“No, you have to eat your greens, or not a spoonful of jam shall you get,” Elle says.
“But I don’t like the taste of spinach,” Lizzie whines.
Henry hands her a salad fork. “Spinach is good for you. You do want to grow up strong and healthy, don’t you?”
“Listen to the doctor,” Elle says, smiling. “There, we can sprinkle a bit of cheese on top. Try it, Lizzie. You might find the taste better than you expected.”
Lizzie reluctantly takes a tiny bite. Both Elle and Henry watch her chew, and when the child concedes that the spinach isn’t ‘that bad,’ the two of them share a knowing smile.
In the afternoon, we move on to the menagerie for lessons on animal behavior. The gamekeeper is more cheerful than Edward. All the children’s attention is on him as he demonstrates how a parrot may imitate human speech. I have the instinct that despite his muscular build, the gamekeeper is a softie at heart like Bertram.
As I watch the girls having fun teaching the parrot various phrases, I notice Edward standing a little way from the crowd, arms crossed over his chest. I let go of Rosie’s hand and go over to him.
“I thought you’d have left,” I say in a low voice. Now that we’re no longer in the greenhouse, Edward doesn’t need to be here. I can manage the rest with Elle and Henry.
He shrugs. “Parliament has closed for the time being, so my workload has lessened considerably. I would rather spend the afternoon with you.”
“Even if we’re not alone?”
He pretends to look offended. “You told me once that I have a possessive streak. I am not that possessive as to want you alone with me all the time.”
A hand tugs on my gown. I look down and find Lizzie looking up at me with wide, plaintive eyes.
“Is there something wrong, Lizzie?”
“I can’t see the birdies. Can I get a stool from the greenhouse?”
“Oh, honey, that’s too dangerous for you.”
Edward suddenly plucks the little girl up and sets her on his shoulders. “Better?”
“Ooh, yes.” Lizzie grins and wiggles her body so she can sit more comfortably. “Much better. Oh look, the birdie is so colorful!”
“Wait.” I waggle my forefinger at her. “You forgot the magic word.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
I glance at them. Lizzie is obviously delighted. Edward, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to enjoy having the little girl swing her legs and play with his hair, but he wears a mask of patience. My heart swells—he could have refused this outing. He could have gone back in the afternoon, and yet because of me, he is willing to tolerate a thankless task. It also occurs to me, as Lizzie paws on Edward’s hair, that he would also make a good father.
When we move to the next stop in the menagerie, Edward lets Lizzie slide to the ground. This time, the little girl is astute enough to thank him again before trotting off to join the others.
“Thank you.” I sidle up to Edward and slip my hand into his. “For giving the children a memorable lesson.”
“It is difficult for me to reject any request from you, as long as it is reasonable. And I have learned much as well, so it is not only you who is gratified.”
I look up at him, my heart in my eyes, and for a moment we stand there gazing at each other, like no further words are needed to communicate our feelings for each other.
“Uncle Ed?” Rosie’s voice becomes louder. “Aunt Kat? It’s time to see the butterfly house.”
I break eye contact from Edward, but I don’t let go of his hand. That moment we just shared was short—not more than a few minutes probably—but it was so entrancing and magical that any hesitation I have of staying in Athelia has vanished. Edward has bound me to him, both legally and figuratively. I can’t imagine the rest of my life without him.
34
After Elle and I see the girls safely conveyed out of the palace, I return to the suite, humming a tune that no one in Athelia would have heard. I had sung a few pop songs for Edward when we were alone, but although he tried to look interested, I could tell that our modern pop is too bizarre for his liking. I feel a bit sad, knowing that I won’t be able to listen to songs on my phone anymore. Here, I need an orchestra that only plays classical music.
I discover Edward fast asleep in the study. For some weird reason, he reminds me of Sleeping Beauty, albeit a male version. It certainly is a breathtaking picture—him lying
on the low sofa near the window seat, and the curtains drawn back, revealing the panorama of magnificent fall foliage in the gardens outside.
He must be exhausted from all the parliamentary sessions. A gust of wind blows in one window that’s propped open, causing goosebumps on my arm.
I tiptoe to my bedroom and grab a fine cashmere blanket, planning to drape it over Edward. Even though he has a great physique, it’s still possible that he could catch a cold. Just when I’m tucking the material under his chin, he stirs and opens one eye.
“Kat?”
In an instant, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, dragging my body down to his, like a typical romance scene in a shojo manga. I land on his chest, and my head bangs under his chin. Another gust of wind enters the windows, making a stack of papers on the desk flutter. Luckily, there’s a paper weight, or those papers would have scattered on the floor by now.
“Edward, the wind is coming in. I should close that window.”
His other arm settles over my back in an ironlike grip. Combined with the heat from his body and the blanket underneath, I admit it is warm enough.
“I dreamed of you rising in the air,” he murmurs, and there’s pain in his voice. “All I could think of was pulling you back. However, you floated away, and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get you.”
“It was only a dream.”
“But it could happen.”
“It won’t.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize I mean it.
His arms tighten around me. “Truly?”
There’s no sound from Krev, not even a teeny whimper. Good. I can say and do whatever I want without his annoying influence.
I swallow and take a deep breath. In my mind, I silently apologize to my mother, my sister, and Jason. I really, really don’t want to give them up, but if forced to make a choice . . .
“Even if Krev shows up, I’ll tell him that I want to stay in Athelia. I’m not going back to my own world.”
He suddenly flips me over so I’m lying beneath him. Edward’s gaze bores into my face, as though he wants to make sure I’m being sincere. That my facial expression matches my tone.
“Say that again.”
I raise my hand and caress his cheek. “I love you, Edward. I promise you that as long as I live, I will never leave your side.”
A choked sound escapes him. The next second, he covers my mouth completely. He kisses me, fiercely and hungrily, as though I am the only meal after days of starving. He kisses me over and over again, as though each kiss will anchor me more firmly in Athelia. He kisses me so deeply that I can barely breathe, yet I don’t want him to stop.
And for the first time since I was transported to Athelia, joy—unadulterated, encompassing, addictive—washes over me, filling my mind, running in my veins, making my whole being vibrant and alive. I wrap my arms around Edward’s back and pull him even closer to me, not caring that my gown is riding up to my knees, my petticoats exposed and my shoes kicked to the floor. Oh, how lovely it is to be able to reciprocate. I won’t have to feel guilty whenever he flirts or tries to be intimate.
“Ahh!”
Someone shrieks, followed by a crash. Poor Mabel stands in the doorway, her hands on her mouth, her eyes as round as the moon. On the floor lie scattered pieces from a broken teapot and cups. “Oh,” she squeaks. “I’m so . . . so sorry . . .”
I roll off the sofa, tugging my neckline back into place. Geez. This is what comes from months of pent-up energy. But I love it. I love how Edward, so stiff and formal in front of most people, can be so ardent in his desire for me.
“Don’t worry about it, Mabel.” I squat on the floor and help her gather up the pieces. “It’s not your fault. I’ll pay for a new tea set.”
It takes little time for us to clear away the mess. When Mabel has gathered all the broken pieces in her apron, Edward speaks. “You need not bring a new pot.”
Mabel looks both anxious and scared. “As…as you wish, Your Highness. Forgive me—I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”
“Never mind. However, I need you to inform my parents that the princess and I will not be joining them for supper tonight.”
The maid bobs a curtsy. “Of course, Your Highness. I’m so sorry that I—”
“Next time, remember to knock. Even if the door is left open.”
When she leaves, I press my hand on his arm. “Edward, you could have used a gentler tone. The poor girl looked terrified, like you were going to fire her.”
He frowns. “I wouldn’t fire her for simply smashing the teapot.”
“I meant that you could smile a little, act friendlier, put her more at ease. You look intimidating when you don’t smile.” I try to imitate his poker face expression. “Now do you see what I mean?”
Edward doesn’t seem affected. “I see no reason to act in a familiar manner unless it is a person I am intimate with.” I am about to argue that intimacy isn’t the same as friendliness when he leans toward me and brushes his lips over my forehead. “Such as you, dearest wife o’ mine. No words are adequate enough to convey how glad I am that you have decided to stay. This merits a celebration.”
“Are you planning to ask the kitchens to prepare a private meal?” I ask, since he told Mabel that we won’t be dining with his parents tonight.
“I have an even better idea. In your world, a couple would often celebrate a special occasion by going to a restaurant.”
“You’re taking me out to dinner at a restaurant?” It’s such a novelty that I can’t keep the amazement from my tone. I haven’t even been to a restaurant in Athelia, though I’ve seen a few near The Bookworm. Our gastronomic delights are limited to the palace or a noble’s house.
“You make it sound like I’m taking you to a battlefield.”
“No, seriously, it’s just . . . I’ve been here for six months, and I’ve yet to see you go to a restaurant. Won’t we be recognized?”
He opens a drawer and takes out a pair of spectacles. “You’d be surprised at the level of anonymity I can maintain when I used to visit families with Henry. There are hundreds of thousands of people in the capital. I rarely show myself in public, and even in an event like our wedding, most people were too far away to see our faces clearly.”
I place the spectacles on his face and giggle. It does add a touch of intellect to his features. He looks more serious than usual, which is saying something.
He raises his eyebrows. “Have I become more alluring? Or are my features less pleasing to your eye?”
I kiss his nose, eliciting a smile from him. “You’re perfect either way. But I still find you easily recognizable.”
“Were we attending a party for aristocrats, I would most certainly be recognized, but going to a small restaurant downtown? I highly doubt it. Even if an aristocrat craves for food from an ordinary restaurant, he would send a servant to bring the food in a brown paper bag, instead of waiting in queue himself.”
I imagine Bianca or Claire queuing outside the restaurant, and I put the image out of my head. He’s right. I can’t imagine an aristocrat mingling with commoners downtown. For example, I’d never catch Bianca hovering near The Bookworm. She always keeps her shopping to High Street.
After Amelie dresses me in a simple but elegant gown that makes me appear more middle-class than aristocratic, I find Edward in the sitting room, similarly attired. Heck, it’s the same suit he wore when I met him for the first time, when he accompanied Henry to Dr. Jensen’s house.
“Where are we going?”
“A place renowned for its spicy food.”
Since I arrived in Athelia, I never lacked for material comfort, but sometimes I wish that the kitchens would serve something cooked in spices rather than the usual butter and cream. Growing up with Mom, I’m used to having my meat seasoned with chili peppers and my salad liberally sprinkled with cilantro. Here, in the Athelian kitchens, the most common dish is chicken sautéed in white wine and butter sauce. Sometimes, I wonder if the word ‘spice’
exists in their vocabulary, as I’ve yet to come across a really spicy dish. Edward once suggested that I ask the kitchens to prepare a different dish for me, but I’d rather not demand special treatment.
“Is that all right with you, Kat?” Edward says, frowning. “I thought you missed spicy food.”
“Oh no, I’d love to try it. I was just wondering if it’s all right with you. Have you ever had a spicy dish in your life?”
He smiles gently. “My tastebuds are of little consequence. Since you have promised to stay, it is natural that I would want you to miss as little of your own world as possible. I cannot replace your family, but I would like to make sure that your life here is not lacking in other areas.”
My heart is overflowing with love for him. God, what have I done to deserve such a wonderful husband? When we get into our carriage, I draw up the curtains and climb into his lap. I lay my head against his chest and thread my fingers through his. At first he stiffens, perhaps surprised that I would take the initiative, but then his arms close around me and he fits his chin in the crook of my neck. We stay there in a comforting embrace, no words spoken between us. But I know that he and I share the same mind. I am here for good, and nothing shall separate us.
35
When Edward opens the door of the restaurant and ushers me inside, the aroma of spices gives me an excellent first impression. Cumin, coriander, cilantro, cinnamon, cloves—along with a lot of other spices I can’t name but smell great—are here in plentiful supply.
“Oh my God.” I close my eyes for a moment and inhale deeply. “It smells like heaven in here.”
When I open my eyes, I find Edward watching me, his expression both amused and tender. “Kat, I cannot tell the difference between you and a puppy that senses a juicy bone nearby.”
