Forty | Emerald Cut

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The scent of cinnamon hung heavy in the air, swirling around me like a warm hug.

I tiptoed across the cool tiles of the palace kitchen, the largeness of it always seeming to swallow me whole despite my eight years.

Moonlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating flour dusted like fallen snow on the counter.

Tonight was the night.

Antonio, my best friend, peeked through the swinging door, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement.

We'd spent the afternoon huddled in my room, noses buried in a well-worn cookbook, our plan for cinnamon rolls as meticulously crafted as a knight's battle strategy.

Antonio, whose family had served as our bodyguards for generations, was the mastermind behind the raid.

He'd not only stolen the cinnamon, a treasure in our sugar-restricted household, but also promised to distract the guards stationed by the kitchen door.

My fingers, dusted white with flour, wrestled with the dough.

In our world of stiff posture and high expectations, baking was my secret hobby.

The rhythmic kneading, the sweet promise of warm dough rising, the beauty of transforming simple ingredients into pure magic—

It was freedom.

A muffled cough from the doorway sent a jolt through me.

I spun around, heart hammering against my ribs, to find Antonio doubled over in a silent fit of giggles.

Flour, escaping from the flour sack he held, dusted his dark hair like powdered sugar.

Relief flooded me, warm and sweet like the icing we'd layer on the soon-to-be rolls.

In that moment, I knew our friendship was an unbreakable pact, a sweet secret shared under the watchful eyes of the night.

- Azzy



Chapter Forty: Emerald Cut



"Are you ready to order?"

I glanced up to the brunette woman who flashed me a smile, "Not quite, but I'll go ahead and order two waters and a black coffee for the table," I said, knowing Renata's coffee preference at the very least.

The woman didn't hesitate to nod, "Of course, I'll go get that started for you now," she said, backing away from me as I gave her a curt smile.

I slid my phone from my purse, glancing down to the text Renata sent minutes prior.

R: Leaving Riva now.

I glanced back up from my phone, knowing that Riva was around ten minutes away, so she should be here any minute now.

Antonio ended up leaving to meet my parents for the debrief regarding the upcoming travel plan to Lyon—which left me with two stiff bodyguards lingering near me.

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