Court Of Shadows and Lies

47. Hands in the Dough

As Bruce returned to his duties, Cessalie turned back to the dough, kneading it with a steady rhythm that I found mesmerizing. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was seeing a side of her no one else knew.

After a while, I ventured closer, hovering beside her, my curiosity still growing. “Can I try?” I asked, glancing at the dough she was working so carefully.

She gave me a sidelong look, raising an eyebrow as though she were debating whether to let me. Then, with a faint smile, she scooped a small handful of the dough and handed it over. “Go ahead. Just don’t make a mess.”

I took the less sticky ball, trying to imitate her movements. The dough felt strange in my hands, warm and soft but slightly stubborn, as though it had a mind of its own. I pushed and folded it, but mine didn’t look as smooth as hers, and my hands quickly grew covered in flour and bits of dough.

A quiet laugh slipped from her lips as she watched me struggle. “Not so easy, is it?” she teased, her tone gentle.

I looked up, feeling a bit embarrassed, but I couldn’t help but laugh too. “I think the dough hates me.”

“It just takes practice,” she replied, her eyes bright with amusement. She reached over, placing her hands over mine, guiding them with the same patient rhythm she used on her own. Her touch was warm, steadying, and for a moment, I forgot everything else.

My hands moved along with hers, and as she guided me through the motions, the dough finally started coming together, smoothing out under her direction. “See?” she murmured, her voice soft, as if we were sharing a secret. “Like this.”

I nodded, focusing on the feel of her hands, the way they moved so naturally. “It’s… nice,” I mumbled, feeling a bit silly but unable to stop myself. “Doing this with you.”

She paused, her expression softening ever so slightly before she looked away. “Well… it’s good to see you learning something useful.” Her tone was calm, but I caught a hint of something else, a gentleness she didn’t usually show.

Just then, Bruce interrupted again, clearing his throat. “Lady Cessalie, should I start preparing the main meal, or do you have any special requests today?”

She turned to him, her composed expression returning. “Nothing special, Borace. Just the usual.”

He nodded, giving me a quick, knowing look before he returned to his work. I watched him for a moment, wondering if he’d ever seen Cessalie like this, so relaxed, almost… happy.

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As I sat quietly in the corner of her room, my eyes tracked her every move. I tried to understand the strange, tightening twist in my chest each time she opened one of those letters from the Duke … Dove, the man everyone said she’d marry soon. The thought alone made my fists clench. She was supposed to be happy about it, wasn’t she? That’s what marriage was about, right?

But happiness was far from what I saw on her face when she read his words. Her eyes would narrow, her lips would press into a thin, unyielding line, and sometimes she’d even press her fingertips to her forehead, as if the letter itself were a headache. And every now and then, I’d catch a soft, frustrated sigh as she scanned his words, her patience waning.

I watched as she tossed aside yet another letter, folding her arms and glaring at it as if it had personally insulted her. I nearly laughed, but the deeper frustration in her expression hit me in a way I couldn’t explain.