Jahree perched on the kitchen counter, watching Lanni expertly roll out dough for a pie crust. He leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of him. “How long does it have to bake?” Lanni glanced up, smiling. “About a half-hour. Are you that hungry?” She brushed a stray bit of flour from her cheek. “I’ve got some cookies if you’re desperate.” Jahree grinned, his expression softening. “Actually, I was hoping for some time alone with you.” She arched an eyebrow, carefully lifting the rolled dough and settling it into the pie plate. “Well, you’ve got me now.” At that moment, Lady Barta entered, her gaze sweeping over the two of them before settling on the pie. She frowned. “Pie again?” “It’s chicken pie for supper, Ma’am,” Lanni reassured her, smoothing the crust’s edges with delicate fingers. Lady Barta huffed, but her expression softened. “Very well. Though I still don’t un-derstand why you need to bake so often.” Lanni shrugged, giving the older woman a knowing look. “A life without pleasure isn’t really a life, is it? I’ve been through times when survival was the only goal. It taught me to savor what I have while I can.” Barta gave a slow nod, a hint of respect in her eyes. “I suppose so. But what did you know of hardship? You were a princess, after all.” A shadow crossed Lanni’s face. “I didn’t always live in a palace, and even when I was, it wasn’t as easy as it looked.” She hesitated, glancing at the pie, then back at Lady Barta. “Besides, your children don’t live in a palace. A few treats bring them a bit of joy, don’t you think?” Lady Barta nodded, her voice gentler now. “Perhaps you’re right.” The tension eased as she refocused on her original task. “Anyway, I need you to come upstairs. Jaina’s locked herself in her room again, and I could use your help opening it.” Lanni dusted the flour from her hands. “Lead the way.” She followed Lady Barta, smiling at Jahree as she left. They found the children in Jaina’s room, arms folded in defiance. Lanni quickly picked the lock and stepped inside. She studied the small trio, her expression softening as she noticed little Shri mirroring her older siblings. “What’s going on here?” she asked, looking at each of them in turn. “Mom sent Mistress Chapado away,” Brallet said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “We wanted to learn magic.” Lanni knelt to meet their eyes. “You don’t need her to teach you magic,” she said gen-tly. Shri’s eyes lit up. “Can you teach us, Lanni?” She shook her head, smiling. “If I taught you magic, who’d bake the cookies? Your mom can teach you.” “I will not. Yarbs don’t use magic,” Barta insisted. “Since when?” Lanni challenged with a raise of her eyebrow. “I know it used to be that servants weren’t allowed to cast, but nobles certainly did. It was no secret your great-grandfather was a mage, and he was just an adviser. I thought you avoided magic to hide your immortal side. From my experience, Yarb nobles usually prefer every advantage, and magic can be quite an advantage. “And to be honest, there isn’t any difference between a human mage and an immortal one, except age and power. Living longer is an advantage, too. Think of all you’ll see and learn.” That did make Barta pause. “Can we, Mom, please?” Shri asked. She folded her hands and wore the most hopeful expression. “Maybe, if you don’t want to teach us, we can go to the college,” Jaina suggested. “Unthinkable. Out of the question,” Lady Barta insisted. “I’ll talk to your father about finding someone, but don’t get your hopes up. Now, hand me that key.” Jaina hesitated before surrendering it, and with a final warning to behave, Lady Barta ushered the children toward supper. *** Back in the kitchen, Lanni found Jahree. He’d taken over, crimping the edges of the pie with surprising skill. She raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” He shrugged, a boyish smile playing on his lips. “Helping out. I don’t get many chances to be in the kitchen anymore.” “You like to cook?” Lanni asked, surprised. “I like to bake, especially pies. The first day I was at the foster home, Mama Sai was baking a pie. She had a hand crank device for peeling and slicing apples. She let me turn it. I helped assemble the pie. That night, after dinner, I had my first and last piece of ap-ple pie. I got so sick. I have to say, it tasted good. And Mama Sai let me help her with plenty of pies, and cakes and fritters, and donuts and bread, and rolls and…” Lanni laughed. He pulled her to him and kissed her. He dusted his hands off, looking at her thoughtfully. “Lanni, there’s something I wanted to say.” She leaned in, feeling the air grow heavy with something unspoken. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For being patient with me. After everything… I wasn’t ready. You knew without me saying anything.”After that woman, he’d needed time. He hadn’t wanted to be intimate with Lanni. She hadn’t pushed, hadn’t said a word. He didn’t even need to ask. She just automatically backed off and followed his lead. “What you want, when you want, and nothing you don’t.” Lanni shrugged and put the pie in the oven. “But I didn’t even say anything,” Jahree protested. A slow smile spread across her face. “You’re not the only one who’s needed time, Jahree. Besides, it’s what I do. I’m here for you, always.” He pulled her close, the smell of flour and spices wrapping around them. Then, almost shyly, he took her hand, looking deep into her eyes. “Lanni, would…” He stopped. “Would you wake Drepal? I want to talk with both of you.” Lanni closed her eyes. When she opened them, he could tell they were both awake. Drepal smiled. “Jahree, it’s good to see you.” “Drepal, I just told Lanni I was grateful for her. I’m just as grateful for you. You are something someone Lanni could never be. I love you as much as I love Lanni. Lanni, Drepal, will you marry me?” They stared at him a moment. “Lanni, if you don’t say yes, I’m going to throw us off a cliff while you sleep,” Drepal threatened. “I just wanted to make sure you agreed. You can be touchy about this,” Lanni claimed. “Uh, ladies?” Jahree prompted. Time seemed to stop. Lanni’s breath caught as she felt Drepal’s presence stir within her, the two of them sharing an unspoken moment of joy. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice steady, her heart soaring. “We’d be honored to marry you.” “We’ll be happy to marry you,” Drepal agreed. “We shouldn’t be awake together. I’ll see you later.” “She didn’t stay awake long enough to see the ring.” He fished it out of his pocket. He was worried someone would steal it, so he kept it with him. Lanni smiled. “That is beautiful. It will go well with the star on my cloak.” “You told me it belonged to your mom. She gave it to your dad.” “And he gave it to me, though I didn’t know where it was from for a long time. She used to be called Shimmering Star,” Lanni told him. They kissed, a promise sealed between them. For a moment, they were alone in their own world, wrapped in a sense of hope and love. But as the kitchen bells chimed, they pulled back, reality rushing in. “We’re late for supper,” Lanni said, laughing as she wiped a flour-smudged hand across her apron. She took one last look at Jahree, her heart full, before they hurried back to the dining room, hand in hand, ready to face whatever lay ahead. As Lanni and Jahree walked back to the kitchen, they were intercepted by Sifa, who raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips. “Where have you two been?” she demanded with a knowing grin. “Jahree had something he wanted to give me,” Lanni explained, keeping her voice casual but unable to hide her smile. Sifa’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’ll bet he did.” Lanni laughed, holding up her hand and wiggling her fingers to show off a simple but beautiful ring glistening on her finger. “This.” Sifa’s expression shifted to one of surprise and then delight as she leaned in to look. “Oh my goodness—congratulations!” Her voice was a low murmur, filled with genuine happiness. “I’ll get a closer look soon, but we need to hurry. Lady Barta’s been asking for you both.” Jahree gave an apologetic shrug, picking up a tray stacked with bread and butter. “Sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.” He flashed a charming smile and hefted the tray. “I’ll help get things out to the dining room.” Together, they brought out the remaining platters of food, quickly setting the table for dinner. Jahree and Lanni sat side by side, exchanging small smiles as they ate. As dinner wrapped up, they both moved to collect the first set of dishes, slipping into an easy rhythm. Lanni carried plates while Jahree stacked the utensils, and together, they returned to the kitchen. Lanni rolled up her sleeves, preparing to wash the dishes, and that’s when Jahree no-ticed a faint, triangular scar etched into her forearm. He reached out, his expression curi-ous and a little concerned. “Did you burn yourself?” he asked, gesturing to the scar. Lanni glanced down, pausing for a brief moment before she smiled lightly, rubbing the mark with her thumb. “Oh, that? Yeah, a long time ago.” She traced the triangle with her fingertip. “Not one of my best memories. But right now, I’ve got dishes to do, and you need to get back on duty soon. I’ll tell you about it another time.” Jahree nodded, sensing the reluctance in her voice and respecting it. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Alright. I’ll see you later.” He slipped out of the kitchen to make his rounds, his thoughts swirling as he walked down the quiet corridors. The more he thought about it, though, the stranger it seemed. Lanni could have had the scar healed. She knew powerful healers who could have taken care of it easily. But she’d kept it. Why? He considered the shape again: a triangle. That wasn’t the sort of mark you’d get from a simple kitchen accident, nor did it resemble any burn he’d ever seen. It was too precise, too deliberate. He thought back to his own training, to stories he’d heard of sol-diers bearing the arrowhead-shaped scars of the Honor Guard. A slow, uneasy realization settled over him. The Honor Guard. The elite soldiers who protected the realm from threats few others knew about. Years ago, when the human and elf kingdoms had united, they’d merged the human Honor Guard with the elven assassins, forming a highly trained unit dedicated to covert operations. They were warriors and spies trained in combat, subterfuge, and recon-naissance. And they bore a distinct mark on their forearms—an arrowhead, signifying loyalty, bravery, and sacrifice. Jahree stopped in the hallway, piecing together the memories he’d gathered over time. The Honor Guard’s scars were supposed to be removed when soldiers left service to prevent impostors from taking their place. For Lanni to still have that scar would mean she was still a soldier. But she was a cook, not a soldier. Actually, she was a spy. That would fit with her being an honor guard. The meetings Lanni attended with Trema and the immortals, training with the soldier, and the small arsenal she kept hidden in her room. It had always seemed strange, but he’d never pressed her for answers. He resumed his rounds, his heart heavy yet filled with admiration. He knew she’d tell him what she could when she could. And he could wait—he could be patient. They shared a bond deeper than words, and whatever her past held, he’d stand by her side. He’d learn her story when the time was right. For now, he would carry the weight of that knowledge alone, as she had carried hers. #fantasy #magic #dragons #hiddenlands