Chapter 10

MILA

Samara nodded, still eyeing me. Once the rest of the team was gathered, I took a deep breath.

“Somehow, the prickly pear supply has gone missing,” I explained, receiving quite a few horrified gasps in response. “So instead, we will be doing zest from the skin of a lime on top of the pie. You’ll have to use less, since lime isn’t nearly as sweet as prickly pear, but the flavors will still work.”

Samara wrinkled her nose. “It’s not the same, though.”

I shook my head. “It’s not. But it will still taste good, at the very least.”

We paraded out, carrying our little pies and limes to the dining hall.

I spotted Felix right away, seated at the head of the table, looking as handsome as ever. Scattered around the long, dark wooden table were various members of the royal kitchen staff, as well as Felix’s assistant.

Next to Felix was a man I had never seen in person before, but recognized from my research on the royal family–his younger brother, Prince Charles. Despite coming from the same parentage, Charles was decidedly shorter and less handsome than Felix. He scowled as Felix announced our arrival.

“What makes you in charge of this event, brother?” Charles asked, reclining in his seat. He almost tripped Fiona while doing so, and I stifled a laugh.

“I am the host,” Felix said through gritted teeth, his smile never faltering.

“Well, I’m also an important host,” Charles sniped. “Shouldn’t I get a say in whether the team you selected is qualified?”

I recognized the tension between the brothers instantly. They were just like me and Nadine–one sibling constantly getting put down by the other, while having to put on a brave face. I felt a rush of empathy for Felix and what he had to deal with.

Felix ignored his brother and announced to the table, “Now presenting prickly pear and lemon pies from Samara’s Place! I’m so excited for you all to try this one. It’s been one of my favorite things I’ve tried recently.

He made eye contact with me and smiled widely. Despite my humiliation and despair, my heart fluttered.

Traitorous heart.

“Actually,” Samara cut in, “We are serving our lemon pies with lime zest today.”

I steadied my hands as I scraped the lime zest onto the pie in front of me. Thankfully, all my fellow chefs had listened to me and were putting just the tiniest bit of lime on their pies as well. I knew it wasn’t as good as the prickly pear, but hopefully it would still taste good.

Felix took a bite, and his face fell slightly in disappointment. My stomach fell along with it. Surely, this was the end of my employment, my future, my hopes and dreams–

“It’s...” Felix began, but was interrupted by Charles.

“It’s good, I supposed, but it’s very ordinary.” Charles poked at the remainder of the pie with his fork. “I thought this was supposed to be spectacular, Felix. At least, that’s what you said. Are you sure we can trust your taste?”

A shadow crossed Felix’s face. I couldn’t bear seeing him in discomfort for a moment longer. I stepped forward.

“This dish is usually made with the zest of prickly pear, which is what Prince Felix remembers” I declared. I could feel Fiona’s glare and Samara’s shock, but forged ahead anyway.

“The prickly pear supply we brought with us appears to have vanished mysteriously. I take full responsibility. However, I do have a sample of our prickly pear lemon pie, prepared in advance, if you all would be willing to share a taste.”

With a bit of a flourish, I revealed the one pie I had prepped in advance, hiding under a cloth in my cart. I took a bit of pride in watching Fiona’s face slacken. I had kept this sample hidden, out of sight, and was glad my gut instinct had told me to do so. As terribly as the sample with the lime had gone over, there was still a chance for the tasters to sample my prickly pear lemon pie.

The royal tasters gladly passed around the sample pie, their faces lighting up with each bite. Even Charles couldn’t hide his delight when he took a taste. A feeling of satisfaction cut through my despair.

Fiona’s face grew angrier and angrier as the pie went around the table. Finally, she burst out, “It’s Miya’s fault the prickly pears were missing in the first place. We will make sure she’s gone by morning. The rest of us shouldn’t be punished over a stupid newcomer’s mistake.”

“Fiona!” Samara was shocked at the outburst. “Don’t talk about one of your fellow chefs like that!”

Fiona cleared her throat and kept going. “The prickly pears were her one responsibility, and she messed that up. Don’t you think she deserves–”

“That’s enough.” Felix’s voice was firm, and as he stood, all the attention in the room rushed to him. A prince, through and through.

My face was scarlet behind my mask, and I was fighting back tears. What was supposed to be my greatest triumph had turned into yet another embarrassment. Maybe Nadine was right. Maybe I really was good for nothing.

“We will have the prickly pear lemon pie for our next formal event,” Felix announced. “And Miya will not be let go for this mistake. Chef Samara, see to it that she retains her position. I have enjoyed your restaurant over the years and look forward to bringing some of your ideas to our royal catering team.”

Samara dipped into a deep curtsy.

“What an honor, Your Highness,” she breathed. “Thank you for this kindness.” “Thank you,” I said. My own voice was thick with tears.

Next to Felix, Charles rolled his eyes.

“You’re bringing on the new chef to our team? Aren’t you worried she’ll just mess up again?”

“A strong leader does not have to explain his decisions to those who do not have the capacity to understand,” Felix fired back.

Charles’ eyes flashed with anger and a strange fire I couldn’t quite discern.

“I wish, dear brother, that you could be such a strong leader all the time,” Charles hissed.

It would certainly save me a lot of trouble.”

With that, the younger prince stalked from the room. The rest of the tasters exchanged uneasy glances. Felix swallowed and looked at the rest of us.

“It is decided, then,” he said. And he left the room along with his brother.

FELIX

I stormed out of the royal dining hall after Charles. I hadn’t meant to leave like that, but Charles’ comments had rattled me. I needed some time to myself to gather my thoughts.

I knew Charles had been jealous of me his whole life. I was the Heir, he was the spare, after all. But in recent months he had gotten bolder, speaking his mind where his opinion wasn’t needed, and feeling free to criticize me in public. I knew it had to do with my impending 30th birthday, but it was still inappropriate.

It had not been my original intent to spare that young chef, Miya. I felt as though she had embarrassed me, serving lime instead of the prickly pear that I had boasted about so much. The pie had been good, yes, but not nearly what I had been hoping for.

In fact, I was ready to tell Samara to let her go due to carelessness. But she had looked so frightened and forlorn–feelings that had also tightened in my chest when I saw her–that I couldn’t help it. I had to save her.

Those feelings that arose when I looked at her almost made me curious. Could I have two Destined Brides? I had certainly felt all of Miya’s shame and horror just a few moments ago. It was exactly the way I had felt around Mila, but that couldn’t be possible.

Still... Miya’s face filled my mind. She was obviously beautiful, even behind her mask. Her eyes had seemed so familiar when I met her at Samara’s Place, even though she declined ever meeting me. I had assumed her shyness was due to my status as a royal, but maybe…

Miya. Mila.

I stopped in my tracks.

So Mila was the girl behind this pie. Why would she hide herself, especially when going to the castle? Didn’t she know I was desperately trying to tear the country apart looking for her? I had thought our night together had been good. Wonderful, even. And she had certainly seemed to enjoy it at the moment. The memory of her breathy gasps and kisses had filled my mind ever since she had snuck out of my apartment.

I flagged down the nearest servant, realizing it was one of my mother’s maids, Cassandra.

“Would you horribly mind running out to grab some fresh prickly pear and stocking it in the kitchens?” I asked her. She nodded eagerly at the task.

“And would you tell Chef Samara that I want her employee Miya to stay? I would like her to make her famous pie for my afternoon tea.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Cassandra said. She scurried off.

It did pay to be Prince when I needed something done in a hurry.

I wanted to bring Mila back to the castle to test her. I had questions, but she was like a frightened animal–it was best not to corner her.

But I needed answers, answers that only she could provide. I needed to test this “Miya.”