Page 37 of A Slipper in the Smoke
She knew he would have his reasons, that he likely found it as hard to sneak away as she did, but that didn’t stop disappointment nestling in her chest.
One-by-one, the other mechanics left for the day. Elena waited until the coast was clear, and slunk into the gardens to their appointed spot.
Pip was already there, together with a picnic basket. He grinned broadly as she approached. “Hello,” he said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you the other day. I was… held up. I’ve brought food as compensation.”
Elena smiled, resisting the urge to tear into the basket, and basked in the light of his gaze instead. “It will have to be really good food, if it is to compensate for the loss of your company.”
Pip’s cheeks pinkened. “I am sure that it shall do the trick.”
He held out a steaming cloth. Inside was a doughy wrap. Elena bit into it eagerly, soft meat and fiery spices exploding across her tongue. The dough had a sweet, corn-like taste to it. Another Navarran dish.
“How did you get this?” she asked, reaching for another.
“I may have suggested to the kitchen staff that with the Navarran princess heading here for the ball, they perhaps might want to start practising some of her native dishes.”
“You’re so thoughtful,” Elena said, mouth still full of food, “but Princess Sofia hates tamales. I know, she’s wrong.”
Pip chewed his lip. “I may also dislike spice.”
Elena swallowed her mouthful. “No! Pip!”
“I’m sorry!” he said, holding his hands up. “Don’t hate me! I think it hides the delicate flavours!”
“Itisthe flavour!” Elena retorted, half scowling, half laughing. “But I think it might take a lot more than that to make me hate you.”
Pip smiled, looking down. “What else do you know of Princess Sofia?”
“She’s nice,” Elena replied. As the daughter of a Baron, she and the Princess had moved in similar circles, although they’d never been more than acquaintances. “Well-read,verypretty. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” He frowned. “Have you met her?”
“Oh, only once or twice. A long time ago.”
“Right.”
He passed her another parcel, a small bowl of spiced beans, smothered in cream and herbs. Elena tried not to moan as he handed her a spoon.
“What do you think of your prince?” she asked him between mouthfuls. His question seemed the best chance she had of learning more about the mysterious young man. She didn’t even know what he looked like, let alone why Sparta might want him dead.
“Oh, he’s all right,” Pip replied, not meeting her gaze. “Why do you ask?”
Elena grappled for a lie, and found one easily. “I am trying to work out if he’s worthy of you.”
At this, Pip flushed. “He wants to be a good king,” he responded. “If that counts for something.”
“It does. But what does a good king look like, I wonder?”
“The sort that cares about his people and listens to them? I don’t know.”
He did not seem to want to talk about it, but at least she knew that the prince was now worthy of protection.
“The food is almost as good as you promised,” she said, finishing off her dish. “Almost makes up for your absence. Almost.”
Pip looked down at his feet, his hands neatly folded behind his back, as if he didn’t trust them not to betray something. “I wish I could promise you that it won’t happen again,” he said. “I wish I could promise to be here every night from now on, but I can’t—”
“It’s all right,” Elena told him, “I have to do as I’m bid, too.”
Pip’s discomfort did not lessen. “Let’s return to the stars, shall we?” he suggested. “Tell me some stories about them.”
