Isla's hands moved with surgical precision, her blade gliding through the pufferfish's flesh. The air hung heavy with tension, each cut a dance with danger. Yet her eyes remained focused, her breathing steady. As she lowered the delicate slices into the simmering pot, the aroma of exotic spices began to fill the air.
The storeroom's musty scent enveloped Marius as he mechanically sorted supplies, his fingers working independently of his troubled mind. The creak of the door jolted him back to reality, Isla's sudden appearance causing him to nearly drop a jar of preserved fruits.
"It's time," Isla breathed, her words barely audible. "The pufferfish awaits your attention. Watch for the meat to yield beneath your spoon. That's when you'll know it's ready."
Marius's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, but he gave a sharp nod. His voice cracked slightly as he whispered, "And if they question my sudden expertise?"
"Maintain an air of quiet confidence," Isla advised. "Let them believe your Omega mother taught you the craft. You need to sell it, Marius. Don't give them any reason to doubt you."
Marius nodded again, feeling a bit more assured by Isla's confidence in him. He made his way back to the kitchen, slipping in among the other servants, none of whom seemed to notice his absence. His eyes quickly found the pot where the pufferfish was cooking, its contents bubbling gently. He watched it closely, the smell of the simmering dish filling the air.
It wasn't long before the head cook approached, his gaze sweeping over the kitchen like a hawk looking for prey. "How are things going here?" he asked, his voice gruff as he peered into the pot where the pufferfish was cooking. His eyes widened slightly, impressed by what he saw. "This is cut very well," he murmured, more to himself than to Marius.
Before Marius could respond, the sound of a bell echoed through the kitchen. The room erupted into a flurry of activity, servants scrambling as the familiar signal of the queen's awakening sent everyone into a frenzy.
"The Queen is awake and requesting breakfast," the head cook barked, urgency in his tone. "Get that fugu off the flame now!"
Marius acted quickly, carefully lifting the pot from the fire. He could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on him, but he kept his hands steady. Before he could do anything else, another servant rushed over and took the dish from him, whisking it away to be plated for the queen's breakfast.
Marius stood back, watching in awe as the kitchen staff, driven by fear and reverence for their queen, moved with frantic energy. Every detail had to be perfect—anything less could mean punishment or worse. He saw the tray being assembled, a variety of dishes meticulously arranged, the pufferfish among them.
The kitchen servants then lined up in two straight rows, their postures rigid as they waited for the queen's maids to arrive. When the maids entered, the head chef stepped forward, presenting the tray with a deep bow. The maids began inspecting the dishes, their critical eyes missing nothing.
One of them stopped at the fugu, her gaze narrowing as she looked it over. "Who cooked this fugu?" she asked, her voice cold and demanding.
The servants shifted nervously, stepping aside to reveal Marius standing awkwardly at the back of the line. Hesitantly, he raised his hand, trying to appear confident despite the knot of nerves in his stomach.
The maid eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. "Aren't you new?" she asked, her tone almost mocking.
Marius nodded, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on him. He tried to stand tall, his heart pounding in his chest.
The maid's gaze flicked to the head chef, her expression hardening. "You put a newbie in charge of a rare, delicate dish that could kill her Majesty if not cooked properly?"
The head chef bowed deeply, his voice hurried as he tried to defend himself. "As head chef, I have a lot on my plate and didn't realize the boy was a newbie. He swore he was a wonderful cook."
Marius watched the exchange, feeling like he was caught in a poorly written play. He could see the tension rising, the air thick with the possibility of blame and punishment. Stepping forward, he spoke up, his voice clear and steady. "I did say I was a good cook. My fugu won't kill the queen."
The maid marched toward him, her eyes boring into his. "Do you swear?" she demanded, her voice sharp.
Marius met her gaze, refusing to back down. "I swear. I have nothing to fear."
The maid studied him for a moment longer before nodding, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "Carry a tray," she ordered. "Let's go."
Marius grabbed the tray with the fugu, his heart still racing but his hands steady. The other servants followed suit, each carrying their own tray as they all headed toward the queen's chambers. The walk was tense, every step echoing in the silence of the corridor, the gravity of the task weighing on each of them.
They reached the chamber doors, and the lead maid spoke up, her voice formal and composed. "Your Majesty, breakfast is here."
From inside, the queen's voice drifted through the heavy doors, smooth and commanding. "Come in."
The doors were pushed open, and the servants entered in a neat procession, one by one. Marius was third in line, the weight of the tray balanced carefully in his hands. The room was grand, filled with the scent of rich fabrics and perfumes, the air thick with the presence of power.
And then, his eyes met the Crown Prince's.
It was as if time slowed down, the bustling activity around him fading into the background. The Crown Prince's gaze was intense, his eyes locking onto Marius with an expression that was impossible to read. Marius felt a jolt in his chest, something deep and visceral that he couldn't quite place. There was recognition there, something that went beyond the simple act of seeing. It was as if the prince could see through him, past the facade he had worked so hard to maintain.
Marius felt his breath hitch, his grip on the tray tightening slightly. His body reacted before his mind could catch up—his heart pounded, his pulse quickened, and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. But he kept his composure, his expression calm, despite the storm brewing inside him.
The Crown Prince's gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer before shifting away, his attention returning to the room, to the other servants and their trays. But the connection, brief as it was, left a mark on Marius, a sensation that lingered long after the moment had passed.
Marius continued forward, following the others as they laid the trays out before the queen. He moved with purpose, setting the tray with the fugu down gently, his hands steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. The queen's gaze swept over the food, her expression one of cool indifference, as if this entire display was nothing more than a routine performance.
As the queen's maids began to serve the food, Marius stepped back, taking his place with the other servants who didn't have much to do. The room was filled with the quiet clatter of dishes, the soft murmur of voices as the queen and her court prepared to dine. But Marius's thoughts were elsewhere, his mind replaying the moment when his eyes met the Crown Prince's.
There was something there, something that he couldn't quite understand, but it was powerful and undeniable. He could feel it in his bones, in the way his heart still raced, in the way his breath seemed to come just a bit too fast. It was as if the prince had seen a part of him that no one else had, a part that even Marius himself hadn't fully recognized.
Her Majesty's voice cut through the tense silence, drawing every eye in the room. "Ah, fugu," she purred, her gaze fixed on the delicate dish. A hint of nostalgia colored her tone as she continued, "It's been far too long since I've indulged in such a delicacy." Her perfectly manicured hand gestured imperiously towards the plate. "I simply must have a taste."
And to Marius, this was the final act.