The Lady is a Stalker

Chapter Three

Being the kind-hearted Princess that she is, Amara helped out in the training camp as much as she could once she learnt that there wasn't a chef working in the building. And that, soldiers' would bring their personally pre-made meal to lunch. Despite being a beautiful and gentle princess, Amara cannot cook, and since all the chefs in the country refuse to cook for thirty-plus hungry soldiers, each with huge appetites, she took it upon herself to cook and feed them.

Maybe if I cook for the knights in training, Prince Layven won't hate me for being lazy, and I won't have to die! Who knows where Sir Rowan is taking me; I need to ask him if I could go work as a chef!

"Sir Rowan, where are we going? I have an idea of what I'd like to do."

"We've arrived! What did you say, again?"

As we stood in the doorway of a kitchen; it was clean and there was a large pile of fresh produce on the table. From fresh vegetables to a basket of fruits, not to mention the rather advanced cooking utensils; this was the perfect place for me. The kitchen was rather spacious and hardly used - you could tell by how clean and organised the room was, everything looked brand new.

"Well? What do you think, do you want to work here?"

A smirk appeared on Rowan's beautifully sculpted face; he knew that bringing me here would cause Serabi to throw a fit in fact, he was waiting for me to explode in anger.

How dare you, a person of lower-class, bring me, Lady Serabi, your future QUEEN to a kitchen, don't you know that's a crime?!

Is what the old Serabi would say.

"This is perfect! Thank you for giving me something to do, Sir Rowan!"

Seeing the smirk wiped off his face was amusing to witness since he was acting rather rude towards me and; once again, it appeared that Sir Rowan was confused by my reply. Of course, it was understandable why Sir Rowan had a malfunction: a noble lady wants to work in the kitchen, it's bizarre; especially, if you are Lady Serabi who is an arrogant, self-centred and germaphobe girl who was fed silver spoons for her entire life.

"Sir Rowan?"

"Yeah... Sure. Why don't you make me something so that you'll qualify as our new chef."

"Sure... What would you like? But don't you have to go back to teaching?"

"You're right, but Sato is taking my place since I told him I had to get something. I'll have a chicken sandwich; it shouldn't take long."

I was taken aback by Sir Rowan's sudden request; however, if it meant that I'm able to work as a chef in this training camp, then I will gladly make him some food! I can only hope that what I make can satisfy his tastes.

As Sir Rowan sat on a stool beside the door, I began to search around the kitchen to find the ingredients needed to make Sir Rowan's sandwich. With the meat produce located in the further back of the kitchen, stored in the more chilled area of the room; it allowed the meat to stay fresh for longer. Preparing the meal took no longer than five minutes with pieces of chicken, mayonnaise and lettuce - a classic chicken sandwich.

I hope Sir Rowan will like this.

"Here you go, Sir Rowan and would you like a cup of water?"

"Yeah and thanks; this looks delicious."

Standing up, Sir Rowan grabbed his meal out of my hands and took one big bite out of the sandwich, chewed for a few times and swallowed. The silence and suspense of Sir Rowan's silence before giving me the verdict on my sandwiches; it reminded me of the time when the manager of the bakery I was supposed to work at interviewed me.