Dahlia breathed a sigh of relief as she finally exited the Crown Prince's imposing manor. Pausing at the edge of the grand courtyard, she cast a wary glance over her shoulder, her thoughts swirling with anxiety. "He's intent on seeing my marriage to Sullivan crumble," she murmured under her breath, a deep frown creasing her brow. "I can't let anyone glimpse the true nature of our relationship—especially not now."
As she walked, a sudden idea lit up her mind, one that might just turn the tides in her favor. Baking a cake for Sullivan, a gesture of warmth and normalcy, could help maintain the facade she so desperately needed to uphold. Resolute, Dahlia spotted a servant passing by and quickly flagged them down.
"Excuse me," she began with a polite but firm tone, "Could you please direct me to the kitchen?"
The servant, surprised by the request, immediately complied, leading Dahlia through the labyrinthine corridors of the manor to the royal kitchen.
The air grew warmer, and the rich scent of roasting meats and simmering sauces greeted her as she stepped into the bustling hub of culinary activity. The kitchen was alive with the clatter of pots and pans, and the murmured instructions of the staff, each absorbed in their duties.
The Head Chef, a portly man with a proud bearing and a starched white apron, noticed her arrival and hurried forward, wiping his hands on a towel as he approached. His eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected visit from royalty.
"Your Highness!" he exclaimed, offering a deep, respectful bow. "What brings you to the heart of our kitchens? How may we serve you today?"
Dahlia offered a small smile, her mind already focused on the task ahead. "I would like to bake a cake," she stated clearly, her voice carrying a quiet authority. "Could you please make some space for me?"
The Head Chef blinked, clearly taken aback. "A… cake, Your Highness?" he repeated, the word unfamiliar to him. He had never heard of such a dish being prepared within the palace walls.
"If Your Highness would kindly share the recipe, I would be most honored to prepare this dish for you," he added, his tone both respectful and eager to please.
But Dahlia shook her head. "Thank you for the offer, but I intend to bake it myself. It's a personal matter," she explained, her gaze steady. "I'll only need a bit of assistance—someone to fetch ingredients and help with the tools, perhaps."
The Head Chef hesitated, clearly unaccustomed to royalty taking such an active role in the kitchen, yet he knew better than to question her further. Bowing again, he motioned for the staff to clear a space for Dahlia, ensuring that she would have everything she needed to carry out her task.
"As you wish, Your Highness. Please, allow me to assign my best assistant to help you," he offered, stepping aside as the kitchen staff quickly made room for her, curious whispers passing among them as they worked.
Dahlia carefully removed the rings and other jewels adorning her hands, setting them aside before beginning her work on the cake. The Head Chef and the kitchen staff watched her with intense curiosity, their eyes fixed on the Princess as she moved with a quiet confidence. For the Head Chef, this was an entirely new experience—seeing a member of the royal family take such an active role in the kitchen, preparing a dish that was completely foreign to him.
With practiced ease, Dahlia measured out the ingredients, her movements precise and deliberate. She mixed and folded the batter, her focus unbroken despite the many eyes upon her. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to the onlookers, she poured the smooth mixture into a pan and carefully placed it inside the preheated oven, setting the temperature high to ensure the cake would rise and bake to perfection.
As she wiped her hands clean and began to put her rings and other jewelry back on, the Head Chef couldn't contain his admiration. "Your Highness seems to possess remarkable cooking skills," he said, his tone filled with genuine wonder. "I must admit, I'm quite eager to discover what this cake tastes like."
Dahlia smiled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you get a taste," she assured him. "I know a few other famous dishes as well. If you're interested, I could teach you. I'm certain that if you learn them, it would bring you great recognition and reward from the King."
The Head Chef's eyes lit up at the prospect. "It would be an honor to learn from you, Your Highness," he responded, his voice filled with a mixture of respect and enthusiasm. He glanced at the oven, where the cake was already beginning to fill the kitchen with a tantalizing aroma. "How long until it's ready?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"About half an hour," Dahlia replied.
The Head Chef got busy in preparing the lunch for the royal family. Till then, the cake was baked. Dahlia carefully took it out and set on the counter. Again the staff surrounded her and saw how she decorated the cake with chocolate and fresh cream with strawberry toppings on its top.
"This truly looks amazing, Your Highness," the Head Chef said.
"Thank you. You can bake these cakes on important occasions," Dahlia told him. "Thank you everyone for your help. Please send it to my manor. I'll go ahead first," she requested.
"Of course, Your Highness. I will send it with a servant's hands," the Head Chef assured her. Dahlia thanked him and left first.
Upon reaching the living room, Dahlia didn't find Sullivan around.
"He said he would not go out today," Dahlia murmured and turned around when her head bumped on Sullivan's chest. She rubbed her forehead while glaring at him.
"Can't you walk straight? Why is your chest so hard, like a stone?" Dahlia scolded in annoyance as she bumped into Sullivan, her irritation clear in her tone. She lightly slapped his chest with her other hand, but as she felt the taut muscles beneath his silk shirt, a smile crept onto her lips. The pain from the impact was quickly forgotten as her fingers traced over the firm contours of his chest.
"What are you doing?" Sullivan's voice broke through her thoughts, causing her to glance up at him.
Dahlia snapped back to reality, her face flushing with embarrassment as she quickly pulled her hand away. "N-Nothing!" she stammered, biting her bottom lip in a nervous gesture.
Before the moment could stretch into awkwardness, Nylie, one of the servants, stepped in with a polite interruption. "Your Highness, the chef has sent this," she announced, holding out a tray.
"Oh! Great!" Dahlia exclaimed, seizing the opportunity to change the subject. She hurried over to Nylie and took the tray, revealing a perfectly baked chocolate cake. Sullivan eyed it with a hint of suspicion, his brows furrowed as he examined the unfamiliar dish.
"Sullivan, I baked this for you," Dahlia said with a warm smile, beckoning him to follow her to the drawing table. She set the tray down and gracefully knelt as she cut a slice of the cake, placing it on a small plate.
Sullivan took a seat on the sofa, still intrigued by the cake. "What's this called?" he asked, his tone curious.
"It's called a cake," Dahlia replied, offering the plate to him with a hint of pride.
Sullivan picked up the tiny spoon provided, eyeing the cake with a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Why don't you taste it first?" he suggested, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Me?" Dahlia's eyes lit up with surprise.
"Hmm," he nodded, not entirely trusting her yet.
"But we only have one spoon," she pointed out. "You'll have to use it after me. Are you okay with that?"
"Yes," Sullivan replied calmly, holding the spoon up to her mouth. He was cautious, wanting to ensure there was no foul play involved.
Dahlia hesitated for a moment, then opened her mouth and took a small bite. Her face brightened as the rich flavors of the cake melted on her tongue. "I'm really a good cook," she beamed, praising herself with a pleased smile.
Seeing that there was no poison in the cake, Sullivan relaxed slightly and prepared to take his own bite. But just as he was about to lift the spoon to his lips, he noticed something alarming—blood was trickling from Dahlia's nose. His expression shifted instantly from intrigue to concern.
"Dahlia," he began, but before he could say more, Dahlia's fingers brushed against her nose, smearing the blood. Her eyes widened in shock, and the next moment, she swayed unsteadily, her vision darkening.
"Blood?" she whispered in disbelief, just before her body went limp. Sullivan's reflexes kicked in, and he caught her just in time, preventing her from collapsing to the ground.
"Call the physician!" Sullivan shouted urgently, his voice filled with a rare panic as he cradled Dahlia in his arms.