The royal kitchens were vast, smelling of yeast and roasted game, but Clara had commandeered a quiet corner near the pastry ovens. She had donned a somewhat oversized apron, while Victoria stood perfectly still, her own small apron tied with a precision that bordered on the mathematical.
On the floured marble table sat the Thermora Blossom. Its indigo petals pulsed with a faint, rhythmic glow, reacting to the warmth of the nearby ovens.
"Okay, Princess," Clara said, rolling up her sleeves. "If we're going to 'engineer' this, we need to understand the components. The blossom absorbs heat, right?"
"Correct," Victoria said, her voice clinical but her eyes wide with focus. "The petals store thermal energy and convert it into a nectar that tastes of spiced honey. However, if the temperature is inconsistent during the infusion, the nectar turns bitter. It requires... stability."
Clara leaned onto the counter, looking at the flower. "Stability. Not exactly your sister's middle name, is it?" She joked, sensing how formal Victoria was acting.
Victoria paused, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "No. My older sister is... volatile."
"Which is why we're making Thermora Glazed Madeleines," Clara declared, pointing a wooden spoon at the girl. "The cake is soft and forgiving, but the glaze? The glaze is where we trap the heat. It'll stay warm even after we carry it across the drafty halls."
"A logical choice," Victoria conceded. "How do I assist?"
"First step: The nickname has to go. 'Princess Victoria' is six syllables too long for a kitchen. I'm calling you Vicky." Clara gave an easy smile.
Victoria froze, a measuring cup halfway to a bowl of flour. "Vicky?"
"Vicky," Clara repeated firmly. "It's aerodynamic. Saves time. Now, Vicky, start whisking those egg whites. We need them peaked, like the snowy tops of the Frost-Reach mountains."
Victoria looked at the whisk as if it were a foreign weapon, then began to beat the eggs with a terrifying, silent intensity.
"You're doing it with 'courtly grace' again," Clara teased, nudging the girl's shoulder with her elbow. "Put some muscle into it! Cooking is just alchemy you can eat. You have to dominate the ingredients."
"Actually, alchemy is different," Victoria said, her brow furrowed in concentration. "It's more about precise measurements and reactions. You can't just throw things together and-"
"I was just kidding." Clara made a peace sign and continued to work.
Geniuses are scary.
As the rhythm of the kitchen took over, the tension in Victoria's small shoulders began to melt. They worked in tandem- Clara handling the heavy folding of the batter, Victoria meticulously extracting the indigo nectar from the Thermora petals.
"Why do you do it?" Victoria asked suddenly, her voice muffled by the sound of the oven door closing.
"Do what? Make snacks?"
"Stay with her," Victoria clarified, looking at the blue-stained nectar on her fingertips.
"The last thirty-seven tutors only lasted an average of three days. They say she is 'cruel' or 'dangerous.' Even the court physicians are intimidated by her."
Clara stopped, wiping a smudge of flour off her nose. She looked at the young girl- so composed, yet so clearly desperate for a reason to hope.
"Because the longer I stayed with her, the more I realize how... unpredictable she can be, and how fiercely loyal she is to the few she lets close," Clara said, brushing a stray bit of flour from her sleeve. "And also, I hate to admit this, but I'm having fun too. Your sister… can be a jerk sometimes, but she's brilliant in her own chaotic way- and honestly, there's no one else I'd rather be dodging vases with."
Victoria let out a small, genuine puff of air-a tiny laugh. "She likely would do that. Her aim is excellent."
"See? You know her best." Clara pulled the tray from the oven. The scent was incredible- floral, spicy, and deeply comforting. "Now, the finishing touch. The glaze."
Together, they drizzled the indigo syrup over the warm cakes. As the syrup hit the heat, the madeleines began to glow with a soft, pulsing light. They looked less like food and more like fallen stars.
Victoria reached out, hovering her hand over the plate. She could feel the gentle, radiating warmth of the Thermora Blossom.
"It feels... like a hearth," Victoria whispered.
"Exactly," Clara grinned, handing Victoria a small box lined with silk. "A portable hearth for a sister who's a little too cold. Strategic mission accomplished?"
Victoria looked up at Clara, her expression no longer that of a miniature empress, but of a young girl who had finally found an ally.
"Mission accomplished," Vicky said and did a fist pump "Thank you... Ms. Clara."
Victoria clutched her apron, her small hands twisting the fabric nervously.
"My sister… I know she's not a bad person," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But sometimes it feels like she hates me just for existing. I… I want to be close to her, but I don't know how."
Clara stilled and was quietly touched. Victoria's words reminded her of herself when she first met Leanne, so determined to reach across the walls her sister had built.
That same stubborn hope, that same quiet bravery, mirrored in the younger girl's eyes.
Ahh I miss my adorable Lea. I just want to take a day off and Explore the Capital with her!
And somewhere deep in the palace, in her chamber, Veronica stirred, unaware that a tiny thread of trust had already started to take root.