Page 24 of Princesses & Pastries
I meet his gaze, seeing something in there that I'm not used to seeing from anyone. I don't know exactly what it means, just that it's something, and I want him to look at me like this more often.
Before either of us can say anything, there's a choking sound from the top of the oven. We pull apart, and I hurry over to Ember, only to find her spitting out a bone.
"This wouldn't happen if you didn't eat your food so quickly," I chide my dragon.
She completely ignores me and gobbles down another piece of meat.
"It's a wonder she got to five," Nate jokes.
"Sometimes, I think that." I reach out to scratch my dragon behind her horns, thinking about Nate's touch as I do. I haven't let many people that close to me, other than Betsy when she does my hair, but that's different.
"I'm going to get the croissants," Nate says.
"That's a good idea," I respond.
He returns a few minutes later with the tray of chilled croissants. "Will you open the oven door for me?" he asks.
"Sure." I waver for a moment between the two ovens, then realise he means the gas one. I unlatch the front of it, being careful not to burn myself on the hot metal.
Nate slides the tray of croissants in and closes the door before turning over one of the smaller hourglasses.
"Why do we call them hourglasses when they don't always measure an hour?" I ask.
Nate gives me a funny look, then laughs. "What?"
"Well, it's an hourglass, but it's not measuring an hour. So why is it called an hourglass?"
"I think there are other names," he responds. "It's not called an hourglass in Gaullesse, they call it a sablier."
I frown. "Sablier," I repeat. "That means nothing to me."
"It's to do with the word for sand," he responds. "It's a zandloper in Wafeland."
"That makes more sense. Maybe I should call it something different."
"There might be a book about them in the Queen's library where you can find out more about their history," Nate suggests.
I wrinkle my nose. "I know I'm supposed to like that kind of thing, but you know I can't focus on reading unless it's about cake."
"True."
The rich smell of baking pastry fills the air, making my stomach rumble. I always underestimate how long it takes for things to be ready. One glance at the timer reveals that there isn't long left until they come out of the oven.
I catch Nate smiling at me. "What?"
"You're just so consistent," he says.
"I hope that's a good thing."
His smile reaches his eyes, making me feel warm inside. "It is." He heads over to the oven and carefully removes the tray with an oven cloth.
"I want to eat one now," I say.
He chuckles and sets the tray down on the table. "I know you do. You're supposed to wait for them to cool."
I make my way over to him and lean against the table. "They look good." The golden brown of the crispy outer pastry is making my mouth water.
Nate's amusement is impossible to ignore, and he takes me by surprise by picking up one of the croissants and tearing off the end of it. Steam rises up, but it does nothing to hide the fluffy interior.
