Aligning the Forgotten ✓

Chapter 30: Silas

"You're wrong. No matter what, you're wrong."

"I am not wrong, you just haven't been exposed to the right desserts."

"Trust me, I have, and you're wrong. There's no way a pie is better than a tart."

Silas exposes his hands in innocence and bites back his smirk. Avalie gapes at him, her plump cheeks rising in excitement at yet another one of the prince's protests. This time, it isn't an argument about books or the best fabric for clothing, or the best dances at a celebration. Instead, it's about the tastiest desserts to eat during a feast.

"If you think eating a pie during a feast will help your stomach, then you're wrong," Silas finalizes. "Imagine eating a five-course meal provided by Mills, who doesn't short his recipes on fat or sugar. And then, once you're done with that, you have to eat a pie. That's terrible!" He splays his arms wide and leans back against the cushion on the chaise, smirking at Avalie as she tries to come up with a proper defense.

This started when Avalie managed to sneak two slices of pie from the kitchens when Mills wasn't paying attention. Dalis is gone, leaving the old man to do everything himself, so Avalie has stepped up and taken on the task of being his assistant until the witch of water returns. She tends to the kitchens, cleans up messes, cooks food, and when Mills isn't looking, steals dessert left behind by the guests.

The apple pie is one of Silas's favorites, the flaky crust paired with the tartness of the apples sends his tongue on a flavor ride he never expected. But, even then, the pies don't compare to a tart. He can eat handfuls within minutes and not think twice about it.

"You're biased. Royal food is bland." Avalie scrunches up her nose and takes another forkful of apple pie. "There are more elements to a pie than a tart. That means more flavor." She points her fork at Silas and he laughs.

She sits with her legs crossed on the cushioned bench at the end of his bed. Avalie is so dainty that she leaves so much more space than what he would provide, especially now that he finally got her to wear something other than her handwoven gowns. Taking a quick trip to the capital, a luxury Avalie doesn't have unless she's going to buy supplies, he purchased pants, tunics, shirts—and upon seeing her undergarments by mistake, purchased those, too.

Upon walking into his chambers and finding the clothes laid out on his bed, she blushed such a bright shade of red that Silas nearly regretted every bit of picking out those fabrics. But she hugged him, thanked him, and wore the clothes with pride. Servants don't have the luxury of wearing anything other than what they can make and Avalie doesn't mind the attention from the fellow servants when she's done with her shifts.

Silas has watched her blossom over the past few days. Her smile can light up a room, her eyes are livelier than a black sky stretched with stars. The crown prince, a witch trained in pleasantries and kindness, can't get enough of her. After all these years and never once did he notice her as anything more than a servant; here she is in his chambers, smiling like they're old friends.

"Royal food is not bland," Silas retorts. "It's what we choose to eat that is bland. My father doesn't want exquisite desserts or soups with a striking flavor."

Avalie nods, agreeing. "So it's your father that is the bland one." She drags the teeth along the fork and like the finest of royalty, chews with her mouth closed and her eyes drifted low. It took forever for her to eat in front of him in the first place without shielding her face with a horizontal hand.

"Correct. But I meddle in the arts of finery. Tarts are better than pies and I will stand by my point. In no situation is a pie, although flaky and sweet, is better than something chewy and sour." His mouth waters at the thought, if only that old chef decided to bake tarts rather than apple pies for the summer.