Her Royal Highness

9

I didn't change my attire for dinner. I noticed that Vianne and Freddie changed. Edvard didn't. This guy is very mercurial. Cindy and James changed. Why do they come as a couple always or something? I shook my head and sat on the throne-like chair provided her in the dining area.

Cindy was radiant today. She was wearing a plain white chiffon maxi dress. She was an elegant blonde. None of my qualities. And why are you thinking about these shits, Jamielle? I invited Erik to stay for the night. Or maybe, stay for the year since most of us here study in Oxford. We don't want to stay in a dorm or maybe we could if Grandmum just permitted me.

The servers started to bring in dinner. I kept quiet all the time. I don't have anything to say. Vianne and the gang were talking about their lives in Denmark. She is going to be Queen of Denmark someday. Frederick will be the Prince of Luxembourg. Edvard will be King of Italy. Most of us here will have a throne for ourselves except of course, Erik. But that didn't stop him. His sense of humor was giving life in the dinner. He managed to lighten the mood.

I'm still pretty stuck into having a quiet time eating. They were talking about cooking or culinary arts, until Cindy piped in my silence and destroyed my mood.

"Oh, I heard that Jamielle is a great cook, aren't you?"

I raised my head and sipped on my wine. "I just like cooking but wherever you got the idea of me being a great cook must have come from somewhere unknown."

Then my mood got more off the hook when Erik defended Cindy's statement. "I stayed with her for some years when she was all alone in The Shabby. She is a very great cook."

"Would we forget our names if we tasted the food she'll make?" Frederick asked. Oh, I like the deepness of his voice. It's very suave.

"You should cook for us, Jamielle. As a welcome treat. Can you?" Vianne asked with enthusiasm.

I felt panic for a while. I never cooked for anybody else except for me and Erik. I don't even know if Erik is just fooling around whenever I cook. Well, I haven't killed Erik with my cooking prowess so maybe it is safe. Or maybe not...?

"I don't know..." I muttered.

Everybody with us wailed against my idea. "Come on, Jamy." Erik said. "I'm not lying when I told them that you're a good cook. I won't recommend it if you aren't, right?

I pursed my lips and played with the steak in my plate. I took my wine goblet and sipped a little. I rolled my eyes and put down my wine. "Okay, maybe some dishes will be fine."

After I agreed to cooking, the gang pulled me to the kitchen to start cooking. Seriously? We just had dinner. But I need to succumb on this. Or maybe I'm just doing this not to be rude with the new comers. My grandmother wouldn't like to learn that I'm rude towards them.

Now, I'm here in the kitchen, pulling my hair up. I took off my jacket and when I did I saw them watching my every move. I raised an eyebrow and rested my hands on the marble bar.

"Guys, don't stare that way. It's gonna freak the hell out of me." I said. Then I wore the apron provided by the chefs who were watching me also.

It's getting into my nerves. I bit my lip and looked around. I don't know what would I cook.

"What do you like to eat?" I asked them.

"What is your best dish?"

"The mignon?" Erik said.

My brows met. "Seriously?"