19|| A Vacation From Giving A Damn

I sat cross-legged on the only sofa left in my sitting room with the library book balanced in one hand, a small teacup in the other. The steam moved up and it smelled so sweet and floral, I let out a self satisfied sigh. For once, I didn’t care about anyone but myself and it felt delicious.

Selling almost everything in my quarters had turned out to be the smartest thing I’d done in weeks. In just two days since Advisor Saffron visited me and gave me my Trail results, I’d told Poppy to sell off my old couch, the useless box television that wasn’t even working, the bug-ridden rug, the chipped pots and pans, anything that wasn’t worth keeping. We never once called Head Maid Smite. Poppy took everything straight out of the palace to the market. The little money we got bought us tea, cookies, and a feeling of peace that I didn’t even know I could feel. It felt like a tiny vacation from giving a damn.

Poppy sat on the pillow on the floor in front of me, a romance novel in her lap, as she dusted cookie crumbs from her skirt. That is when we both heard a sharp knock from the door.

I smirked and leaned back in my chair, whispering to her. “You ready?”

She nodded nervously and stood up to answer. She only cracked the door a little, peeking her head out to see who was at the door. On the other side was a palace maid that looked at Poppy arrogantly,

“What are you doing?” the maid snapped. “Open the door properly. I’m here to see your madam.”

Poppy’s fingers tightened on the wood, but her voice stayed calm. “Her Highness isn’t seeing anyone right now. She’s sick.”

The maid let out a scoff, clapping twice like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Sick? Don’t play games with me. I saw her receive His Majesty’s result two days ago. How could she possibly be sick?”

That was when it clicked that she was one of the two maids who’d laughed behind Head Maid Smite’s back. One of her little minions.

“Grace,” Poppy folded her arms, “what do you mean how could she possibly be sick? Does sickness send an invitation card first? Don’t bring your bad energy here. Her Highness is recovering, and I don’t want your bad breath making her worse.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth, trying not to burst out laughing. I hadn’t expected Poppy to be able to say words like that confidently.

Grace’s eyes bulged. “How dare you!”

“How dare me?” Poppy shot back, raising her voice. “How dare you march over here and demand to see Concubine Dahlia as if you’re the queen herself. Who do you think you are?”

Grace sneered. “Calling that pitiful bitch a concubine doesn’t make her one. She just got lucky passing the second test. Let’s see if she even survives the third. Do you know who sent me? The real concubine Lady Naomi. Now go inside and tell that lazy wretch to come out—”

I heard a loud sharp snap in the air.

I gasped.

Poppy had just given Grace such a dirty slap that even Grace was stunned by it. She held her cheek with her mouth hanging open as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

“And I’ll give you another one if you ever speak about Her Highness Dahlia like that again,” Poppy snapped. “You’re just a maid, what gives you the right to open that filthy mouth in here? Do you think this is your father’s house?”

I couldn’t help grinning, snapping my fingers quietly as I took another sip of tea, legs swinging with delight while I watched Poppy deal with her.

“Now,” Poppy continued, “go back to wherever you crawled from and tell whoever sent you that Her Highness Dahlia is sick, and she’ll get back to them when she’s well.”

“You—!” Grace stuttered, her face shaking with rage.

But before she could finish, Poppy slammed the door in her face. She turned around, wide-eyed, hands pressed to her chest.

“I can’t believe I just did that!” she gasped, then burst out laughing.

I jumped up, wrapping her in a hug. “I can’t believe you did it either!”

We both started giggling, laughing our asses off like it was the funniest thing in the world and it was.

“Did you see her face? She couldn’t believe it!” I helped Poppy sit on the sofa because she was still shaking.

“What you did was right. Next time she won’t come here so arrogantly. You did a good job,” I said, patting her back, proud of her. “But this is just the beginning. They’ll come back with more force, and you need to be ready to fight back.”

Poppy nodded, her eyes shining with confidence. “Let them bring it on. I’ll deal with them accordingly.”

“Good girl.” I clapped my hands once and stood up. “We should celebrate. Let’s eat something good today. How about a nice, creamy pasta?”

Poppy shook her head, half smiling. “That would be nice, but I don’t know how to cook that. You know I can only make simple dishes. Other official concubines have chefs, but we don’t.”

I shook my head and pointed toward the kitchen. “That’s fine. I’ll cook it myself. Did you buy all the groceries I asked for?”

“I did, but… can you cook?” she asked, skeptical.

I gave her a small, knowing smile. When I lived with my family, I was the resident chef and maid. Father allowed me to cook his food because before Mom died I was the only one she taught how to cook. So father tolerated me enough because my cooking reminded me of mom’s. Coralie never really cared about the kitchen. And I had to learn quickly how to make other delicious dishes because Coraline had such an expensive taste. So it wasn’t hard to say I was a really good cook, I enjoyed it too. I pulled her toward the kitchen and tied an apron around my waist. “Help me bring out everything we’ll need”

Poppy nodded“Okay, um… What do we need? Tell me, chef!”

I grabbed a knife and checked its sharpness. “Butter, garlic, a small onion, a bottle of cream, and that piece of parmesan you bought yesterday. Oh, and the pack of fettuccine on the top shelf.”

“Oh I was so confused when you first wrote the list, now I get it, you must have been craving real food.”

I smiled and started bringing out the butter and placing it on the counter. “Grab the olive oil, too and the salt.”

Before we knew it, the small table was covered with ingredients. Poppy leaned over them, sniffing the cream like she’d never smelled something so good in her life. “This smells amazing already, and you haven’t even cooked anything.”

“Just wait.” I turned on the gas and placed the only pan we had left on it, letting the butter slide on the warm pan and melt. Then I tossed in finely chopped garlic and onion letting the room instantly fill with a sweet nutty aroma that let my stomach grumble.

“Oh wow. That smell! I didn’t know garlic could smell that good.” Poppy said looking excited.

“Garlic always smells this good,” I teased her, stirring with a wooden spoon. “You just need to treat it gently.”

I poured salt into a pot of water and set it to boil then I waited until it was full of steam before pouring in fettuccine, giving it a quick turn.

Back at the pan, I poured in the cream, watching it mingle with the butter and garlic until it mixed together well. Then I grated parmesan straight in, smiling as they fell in like snow. I quickly grinned in pepper, a pinch of salt, and the sauce thickened, coating the spoon delicious.

Poppy made an exaggerated sniffing sound. “If it tastes half as good as it smells, I might cry.”

“Don’t cry yet,” I said, laughing. “Save the tears for when you try it.”

I drained the pasta, letting a bit of the starchy water slip into the sauce, then tossed the fettuccine in.

When I served the hot pasta into two bowls, Poppy held her hands like she was praying. “I’m the first in my family to eat such delicious food!!”

I handed her a fork and laughed. “Calm down, it's just pasta.”

She took a bit of pasta and was about to take a bite when we both heard angry banging from our door.

I sighed, folding my arms, guess we’ll have to save the celebration for later.