The golden afternoon light filtered through the high windows of Astoria’s royal kitchen, casting a warm glow on the bustling space. Vella, Chef Gustav, and many others worked to prepare dinner, but Theo headed to his place in the back of the kitchen, where there was more than enough space for himself, Ariana, and Freya.

  “I swear, Freya, you need to try baking,” Theo said as he pulled ingredients from the shelves. “It’s not just about eating something sweet—it’s about creating it, the art and the science behind each recipe!”

  Freya rolled her eyes.

  “Your eyes are going to get stuck somewhere at the back of your head with all that eye rolling,” Theo muttered, though it was quiet enough he could claim he had never said a word if she glared at him.

  Ariana lingered by the entrance, her fingers twisting a strand of her black hair.

  Freya glanced at her. “Are you coming inside, Lady Ariana?”

  “My mother says a lady shouldn’t get dirty,” Ariana said, taking in the flour Theo was measuring.

  Theo looked up and smiled. “Grab an apron, problem solved. Have you ever made a choux pastry? We could make cream puffs—they’re delicious, and pretty simple with the right guidance.”

  Ariana’s eyes widened slightly, a spark of interest breaking through her shy demeanor. Perhaps there was a chance of finding a common interest after all? Though he would cling to the hope of not having to marry her—he would like to marry for love rather than royal convenience, if he had to marry at all—if they did have to go through with it, he preferred them to have some common ground.

  “I—I’ve never,” she stammered, moving closer to the island where Theo was setting up.

  “Everyone’s been a beginner at some point,” Theo said with a small smile. “And baking is pretty forgiving.”

  Theo explained the ingredients as he measured water and butter into a large pot, and as the pot on the stove heated, Theo’s enthusiasm infected even the stoic Freya, who leaned in to watch. Theo stirred in the flour with a practiced hand until it formed a ball that pulled away from the sides of the pot.

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  “Now, we let this cool a bit before adding eggs. If we add them now, they’ll cook prematurely,” Theo said. He could talk about this all day.

  Ariana took the wooden spoon he offered and stirred the dough under his guidance.

  “You should be a teacher,” Ariana said shyly. “You’re good at it.”

  “Hear that, Freya?” Theo asked. “I’m good at this.”

  Freya snorted. “Yes. ‘Chef Theo’. I’m sure your father will be thrilled.”

  “Perhaps our parents shouldn’t dictate everything in our lives,” Ariana said, voice still soft but with a tad more confidence in it.

  Freya crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at her. “So, are you going to say no to marrying the prince?”

  Ariana cast her gaze down.

  “Leave her alone,” Theo said, glaring at Freya. She scared him, but he would not let her be mean to someone as delicate as Ariana.

  Freya pressed her lips together but said nothing.

  “She was away traveling a few months back,” Ariana said with a small sigh. “My mother, I mean. After my father died, I think she needed to do something else than to be home. I stayed, of course, and it was… nice. To be by myself. To get to decide. She constantly tells me what to do and how to act. She even picks my clothes.”

  Theo winced in sympathy. “My father likes to tell me what to do, too, though he doesn’t tell me how to dress. And the rest of the time, he ignores me instead. Especially after Mom…”

  He trailed off, because saying the words “after Mom died” still hurt too much.

  Ariana glanced at him with big eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  Theo gave a soft snort that was mostly sadness, and said thickly, “Not your fault.”

  He focused back on the baking, giving it all of his attention so he wouldn’t have to think about his mom and the deep hole she had left in his soul when she died. Ariana apparently understood his need to let the subject go. Soon, Theo was piping the dough onto baking sheets, demonstrating the technique to Ariana. “Now, it’s your turn. Don’t worry about making them perfect. It’s the imperfections that show they were made with care and effort.”

  Ariana took the piping bag and squeezed out her first pastry. It was oddly shaped, but her face lit up.

  Theo grinned. “You’re a natural.”

  As the pastries baked, filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma, Theo and Freya bantered about whether the cream filling should be vanilla or chocolate, while Ariana listened, looking in awe at the speed of Theo and Freya’s exchange. Her eyes lingered on Freya—Theo understood, because Freya would intimidate anyone.

  By the time the cream puffs were ready, golden and puffed up like little sun-kissed clouds, the atmosphere among them was lighter despite the heaviness of the quest waiting for Theo and Freya. Theo filled the pastries, and they each took one.

  Biting into the cream puffs, Ariana’s eyes sparkled with delight. “This is delicious.”

  “Told you,” Theo grinned.

  Even Freya gave a nod of approval, which was the highest praise Theo could remember getting from her.