Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(75)

“Edward,” I say, unable to hide the amusement in my voice. “You look like the condiment is going to bite your nose. Can’t you tell what it is?”

He sniffs obligingly, and the next second he sneezes. I guess the spicy fumes were too much for his delicate olfactory senses. I can’t hold it any longer. I collapse against the back of my chair, dissolving in a fit of giggles.

“Oh my God. I wish I could snap your picture, Edward. That expression you had was priceless.”

He sends me a peeved look, but I mollify him by leaning across the table and giving him a quick peck on the lips. We’re so far back in the corner and I was so quick that I doubt anyone noticed. Edward is surprised but pleased, and that's all that matters.

“We should do this more often,” he remarks, replacing the cork on the bottle. I wonder which he is referring to—going to a restaurant or my lightning-fast kiss. “Since Parliament is now closed, we have more leisure time.”

I frown when he mentions Parliament. The Minimum Wage Act is rejected, which means I still need to figure out an alternative if I want to help Molly, but I haven’t had time since I was busy organizing the palace outing. Tomorrow, I think. Tonight I want to celebrate my first restaurant date with Edward.

“How come there is a restaurant like this in Athelia? And how did you learn of a restaurant like this?”

Edward folds his napkin onto his lap. “Recently, there has been an uptick in the number of immigrants. Many of them have chosen to open restaurants here. As for how I received the information—I heard it from Bertram. He was trying to find a restaurant that might impress Amelie, so he asked around and drew up a list. However, Amelie is less tolerant of spicy food, so in the end he chose another one.”

I smile, imagining Bertram asking Amelie on a date. “I hope he is progressing with Amelie. She is always so serious, but it seems that she is still reluctant to enter a relationship.”

“Bertram had asked me for advice.” Edward gives me a pointed look. “Like him, I was unable to win the affections of my lady for a long time. However, there is little that I can offer him, since your case is very different from Amelie’s.” He pauses, his expression hesitant. “When did you fall in love with me? You were so concerned about getting back to your own world that I do not recall any obvious emotion until I confessed my feelings to you.”

I blush. To tell the truth, I can’t remember when I first fell in love with him either. “It’s . . . it’s a gradual process,” I say lamely. “By the time I realized that I’m in love with you, I was in too deep.” And also dreadfully miserable, because at that time I still wanted to go home to my family.

Our orders arrive—big, hearty portions, freshly cooked and prepared, served in plain tableware that need no rules for their usage. I ladle a bowl of spicy chicken soup, and the multitude of flavors seems to explode in my mouth. It’s almost as if the chef knew my preferences. God, how long has it been since I had a taste of something like home?

“This is so good.” I let out a moan, and Edward glances up abruptly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he quickly says. “Can I try some of that soup?”

Having witnessed his reaction to the condiment, I warn him to take a small helping, but still he ends up coughing into his napkin and I have to ask for some yogurt to dilute the heat.

“This is a better cure than water.” I scoop up the yogurt in a large wooden spoon and hold it out to him. “Trust me.”

He does what I say, and soon he stops coughing. “Now I know why you’re from another world. Your tastebuds are formed of steel.”

I have to laugh. “It’s just an acquired taste, Edward. If you grew up eating spicy food like me, you’ll be accustomed to it too. Shall we ask for some more food? You can’t be satisfied with that sandwich alone. When we get back to the palace, I’ll ask Amelie to send up a food tray.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, draining a glass of wine. He looks up at me with half-lidded eyes. “I can think of other ways to compensate a hungry stomach.”

The heat in his eyes suggests that he wants to take our relationship to the next level. I blush hotly, but I can’t deny that I want him as well.

There’s still some champagne left in the bottle. Edward fills up our glasses and indicates that I take a toast with him.

“To our future,” he says, our glasses clinking gently. “To the rest of our lives—together.”

“Together,” I echo.

After the meal, we make our way slowly back to the carriage. Since it is downtown, Bertram had to park the carriage a long distance from the restaurant. As we walk together, hand in hand, enjoying this freedom to be together without the scrutiny of servants and guards, a girl’s scream reaches our ears above the noise of the people around us.

“Let me go!”

Near a building, there is a young girl struggling with a man who is trying to grab her arm.

It’s Molly.

“Behave yourself, girl. You should have been home long ago.”

“You’re not my . . .” The man slaps her face so hard that she stumbles, and her hand goes to her cheek. Tears spill from her eyes.

I feel like my blood is boiling as I stalk over to them. “What are you doing, trying to abduct this girl? Explain, or I’ll call the police.”