The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(62)
When she looked up again, Aya noticed the maid from the doorway standing a few feet away from the table with a carafe of red wine in her hands and Eldric standing an arm’s length away from her. There was another man present, and from his crisp white apron, Aya guessed that he was the palace chef or perhaps King Archon’s personal chef. As they reached the table, the chef smiled and opened his arms. “Your Majesty. You have picked the perfect day for a luncheon!”
“I do hope so, Stefan. What have you prepared for us today?” The king pulled one of the chairs away from the table and motioned for Aya to seat herself.
“Thank you.”
The king scooted the chair in so that Aya sat close to the table, the folds of her blue gown lost under the white tablecloth. As King Archon seated himself across from her, Stefan moved to stand between them. The table was filled with all kinds of food and more silverware than Aya had seen in her life. She couldn’t even imagine what each utensil could be used for.
“Well, for your entrée, I have prepared a loaf of bread from Bowtown’s finest wheat fields. It is, of course, seasoned with garlic, rosemary, and other herbs for your palatal pleasure. There are plenty of spreads—goat butter, strawberry jam, et cetera—for you to enrich it.”
Aya had never seen such round and full bread before. The rolls and loaves from Portside were half as large and not nearly as fluffy. She looked at each of the spreads in turn, finding it fascinating that anyone would need something to enrich bread. Wasn’t a hot slice of bread a treat enough in itself?
“For your main dish, I have prepared a succulent pork roast from the largest pig in Bowtown. It has been flavored with my secret sauce, and I am sure it will make your mouths water.”
“Secret sauce?” Aya asked.
King Archon tapped his nose. “Oh yes, Stefan’s secret sauce is legendary in the palace. He has never told his recipe to another living person.”
Stefan winked. “My mother passed it to me on her deathbed, and I shall do the same with my daughter.”
“What if you don’t get the chance to tell her before you die?” Aya’s eyes widened.
King Archon cleared his throat. “Don’t be so morbid, Aya.”
“No, no, the lady makes a good point.” Stefan clasped his hands, chuckling. “Luckily, there is a written recipe for such an occasion.” An artificial secret then. “For dessert, I have prepared an ice cream made from goat milk and fresh fruit picked just one hour ago from the greenhouse.”
Aya’s mouth fell open. “Ice cream?”
“Certainly.” Stefan grinned. “It is on ice whenever you are ready.”
“On actual ice?” Aya had never seen ice. She hadn’t even realized anyone still had the technology, or the excess water, to make it. No wonder the water levels in the wells sank so much lower every year.
Stefan laughed again. Aya liked his laugh. It was soft and light, like a child’s.
“Of course, Miss Wellman. Now, if there are no more questions, I shall leave you to your meal. Please send the maid if there is anything else you require.”
“Thank you, Stefan,” King Archon said.
Aya’s jaw remained slack as she shook her head. While Aya digested her shock, King Archon quietly slathered a red spread—the strawberry jam, Aya guessed—on a piece of bread. Taking a deep breath, Aya pushed past her emotions and reached for the goat butter, hoping it would not enrich the already-seasoned bread too much. As the buttered bread hit her tongue, Aya’s mouth began to water, melting the creamy spread and fluffy slice together. Aya closed her eyes to savor the appetizer. After everything she had tasted at the palace, Aya did not know how she would ever go back to the food in the Desertera mainland.
“How do you like it?”
“It is sensational,” Aya mumbled, covering her full mouth with her hand. “I have never tasted bread so full and rich, and the butter, it’s incredibly sweet.”
“It must be nice,” the king began, scooping a piece of pork roast onto his plate, “to be so easily pleased.”
“How are you not pleased? Life in the palace is so grand. As you said yourself, you want for nothing here.” Aya took a piece of meat for herself. She watched King Archon’s movements carefully and used a new knife and the long-tonged fork. The meat was so tender that it nearly fell apart in her mouth; she hardly had to chew it.
“True. All my needs are met in one way or another,” King Archon mused, his voice growing deeper. “But when you are born with the best, you grow accustomed to it, and once that happens, you want something better. When there is no better, it is easy to become bored and disgruntled.”
Aya looked up. The moment her eyes met his, she knew that they were no longer discussing food. The way the king watched her raise each bite to her mouth, the way he licked the corner of his lips ever so slightly, the way he slowly crossed his legs and leaned toward her, told her everything she needed to know. He was finally dancing around the concept of obtaining new wives.
“I simply cannot believe it.” Aya took a sip of her wine, allowing a tiny drop to dribble down her chin. She wiped the liquid with her finger and sucked the juice off her fingertip. “You are the most powerful man in Desertera. You have wealth and…” Aya paused, swallowing to loosen her throat. “…a handsome demeanor, a palace, an heir, a gorgeous wife. What more could you possibly want?”