Standing in front of the mirror, Islinda examined the blonde streak that stood out against the rest of her dark locks.
She hadn’t given much thought to it until now, but Gabbi’s suggestion sparked an idea.
With determination in her eyes, Islinda made a mental note to search for the perfect dye to blend seamlessly with her natural hair color. However, she knew she needed to be discreet about it to avoid arousing suspicion.
Which meant Islinda had to make a trip to the market to purchase the necessary supplies. Additionally, she welcomed the chance to step out of the house for a while. The walls were starting to feel like they were closing in on her, suffocating her with their confinement.
Left to her own devices, Islinda would have preferred to stay hidden in her room until it was time to venture out to the market, thus avoiding any potential encounters with Valerie. However, Gabbi’s suggestion of preparing breakfast together intrigued her.
Valerie had deliberately kept any servants away, intending to keep Islinda out of sight. While his intentions may have been protective, Islinda no longer felt at ease being reliant on him for her meals. Joining Gabbi in the kitchen offered both a distraction and a sense of independence that she craved.
Dressed in comfortable pants and a tunic, Islinda carefully braided her hair, ensuring the white streak was tucked away discreetly. With her preparations complete, she made her way to the kitchen, hoping to lend a hand. To her relief, only Gabbi was present in the room upon her arrival. Islinda silently prayed that the summer prince would remain absent for the rest of the day. While she knew avoiding the issue wouldn’t resolve it, she simply wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not just yet.
"Hey," Gabbi greeted with a warm smile, "You’re finally here."
"Yes, I’m here," Islinda replied, her hands fidgeting nervously. In the months she had spent in the Fae realm, Islinda had grown accustomed to being treated as a guest. Now, she found herself eager to assist Gabbi in the kitchen, despite her lingering nerves. Gabbi moved around the kitchen with confidence, and Islinda couldn’t shake the fear of making a mistake and ruining everything.
"So where do I start?" Islinda asked, surveying the array of ingredients laid out before them as if they were preparing for a grand feast.
"Oh, right," Gabbi seemed to recall that she had asked for Islinda’s help. "Here, first of all, you need this." She handed Islinda an apron, which Islinda gratefully accepted and tied securely around her waist.
Gabi suddenly looked a bit hesitant. "Not to be insulting or anything, but you do know how to cook, right? I just hoped I didn’t assume."
Islinda rolled her eyes. "I was raised by my stepmother who treated me like a servant, so yes, learning how to cook was compulsory," she replied dryly.
"I’m sorry," Gabbi said sympathetically.
Islinda shrugged. "Don’t worry, no offense taken."
"In that case, let’s start," Gabbi declared, her enthusiasm contagious. Islinda couldn’t help but feel more relaxed in her presence.
"Let’s begin with the vegetables," Gabbi suggested, gesturing towards the colorful array laid out on the countertop. "We’ll need to chop them finely for our dish."
Islinda nodded, picking up a sharp knife and carefully following Gabbi’s instructions.
"Ooh, you have such precise and graceful moves," Gabbi complimented her, eliciting a burst of laughter from Islinda.
It felt good to know she had not gone rusty. Even during her temporary stint as a servant at Aldric’s castle, no one there treated her with respect. They assigned her the most difficult and dirty tasks as a means of torturing and humiliating her. No one cared about her culinary skills or acknowledged her worth because she was human.
For the first time, Islinda was relaxed and in her element, chopping vegetables with precision, until she noticed movement from the corner of her eye. Her newfound confidence evaporated like water poured into a pan of hot oil. Her brows furrowed with unease as she watched him approach.
Gabbi must have noticed the shift in Islinda’s demeanor because she turned around. "Derek!" she exclaimed, delighted to see him.
The scowl on Islinda’s face deepened as she watched him. She vividly recalled he was the one who had roughed Issac up and threatened him to steal a lock of her hair for that soul swap ritual. Every interaction with Derek had left Islinda feeling uncomfortable and unwelcome. It was obvious that the Fae didn’t like her and the feeling was mutual.
The tension between Islinda and Derek was palpable, prompting Gabbi to intervene. "Sorry, I didn’t inform you earlier," she addressed Islinda, "but he volunteered to help out, and I honestly needed a male to handle the physically demanding work around here."
Islinda nodded, though her expression remained guarded. She noticed the large basin Derek carried, and the scent of blood reached her nostrils before she even saw the meat loaded inside it.
"Derek will be handling that, while I’ll continue baking the breads and making dessert to be enjoyed after the meal. There’s enough work for everybody, so chop chop, let’s get this going!" Gabbi clapped her hands to get everyone started.
She was the first to resume her position, while Islinda and Derek exchanged lingering gazes, assessing each other silently. Eventually, Derek went to his station to begin his work, and Islinda followed suit. As long as Derek minded his own business and didn’t get in her way, she would treat him as if he didn’t exist at all.
The kitchen buzzed with activity, and despite the initial tension, Islinda found herself enjoying her work once again, much like she had before Derek’s arrival.
Islinda expertly sautéed the onions and garlic in olive oil until they turned golden brown, ensuring to pour a generous amount of oil to enrich the flavor of the dish, skillfully maneuvering the pan over the stove. As she reached for the seasoning, she realized it was missing.
In her haste to find it, Islinda turned suddenly and bumped into Derek at the last moment. A sharp pain shot through her, and she looked down to see a cut along her lower arm, inflicted by the Fae.