Last night was restless.
Even with Melyn's presence and the faint scent of hallowbloom clinging to her hair after the bath, Ilaria had woken too many times in the night. It was only thanks to Melyn sacrificing her own rest that she managed to find a measure of peace, though, even after the crown prince's order, Melyn still refused to sleep on the princess's bed, which frustrated Ilaria the most.
"You're going to be spoiled with sweets today, you can't fight me," Ilaria said as she pressed her palms into the dough with more enthusiasm than skill.
Melyn, holding the eggs, gave her a flat look. "Princess, you don't even know how much flour you've wasted already."
"That's the price of affection."
"Affection?" Melyn's brows rose. "It looks more like vengeance, this dough has suffered more than I have."
Ilaria gasped, feigning offense. "Then you've clearly never been spoiled properly! You stayed up all night again, didn't you? My best friend deserve the sweetest thing in the world."
Melyn sighed, shifting the eggs in her hands. "What I deserve is sleep, not pastries."
"Too late," Ilaria said, sticking her flour-dusted finger out at her like a challenge. "I'm already halfway through proving my point, but don't worry, I'll put you to bed later."
Melyn glanced at the flour-strewn table, then quietly set the eggs into a bowl before picking up a napkin to at least tidy some of the chaos. "You're more like halfway to ruining the kitchen."
That made Ilaria laugh. "Ungrateful little Melyn, you'll thank me once your mouth is full of sugar."
The kitchen was alive like any other day. Every now and then, the kitchen staff will stole a glance toward the corner, where the princess and her handmaiden sat hunched over her small mess of flour and dough. It was no longer unusual to see her there. Because ever since her arrival in the Noctharis palace, Ilaria had made a habit of frequenting the kitchens, often insisting on baking with her own hands rather than simply giving orders to the staff.
At first, her presence had caused quiet panic among them, but with time, they had grown accustomed to it. In fact, they had gone so far as to prepare a neat corner table that was set aside from the bustling chaos of the main workstations. It had become hers alone, stocked with the utensils and ingredients she favoured most.
And she always returned to it with the same simple excuse: to restock the jars of macarons she hoarded as if they were treasures. Today, she came for something else.
They flattened the dough, spread it lightly with sugar and spice, then rolled it into spirals and began slicing the coils.
"By the way, princess..." Melyn spoke as she rolled another dough.
She gave a side-glance at the princess to see if she was feeling off, but Ilaria only looked back at her with a clamp of her lips and a raise of her brows, prompting her to go on. "Hm?"
Melyn took a moment to observe her. "...Are you okay?"
Ilaria sliced the coils with precision, her hands moving gently as if she was slicing a very delicate bun. "Should I not be?"
"It's not that..." Melyn paused, glancing back at the dough in her hand and rolled it to the end. "You hardly have problems sleeping, but last night you keep waking up in the middle of the night. What happened exactly?"
Ilaria paused for a moment, recollecting the events last night. The whispers had been terrifying, and she does not know why it keep telling her that she does not belong here. Maybe because she was not of Noctharis. Maybe because it hated a White Dragon blooded. If the tales were true, it could be reasonable.
And then she remembered what Levan had said: about how The Blithe would not leave once it touched her; about how fearing it would just make herself vulnerable. Ilaria was scared, she would not lie. But if dwelling on it would make matters worse and complicate her husband, then she has no choice but to force herself to be brave.
"Husband said the shadows were trying to speak to me," she murmured, steadying her hands as she sliced through the rolls.
"Shadows...?" Melyn wondered for a moment, then her eyes went wide. "The B—"
"Yes, the 'thing'," Ilaria cut her off and shushed her lips with her finger, whispering as though speaking of its name might summon it here.
Melyn nodded in quiet agreement, hands in the air as if she was surrendering and vowing not to say it aloud. She had grown up hearing whispers of The Blithe, every children of Noctharis did. Until now, the rumors of people vanishing without a trace and of whole villages swallowed in silence still lingered at the edges of her memory.
Ilaria quietly let the lady go.
"But...how? Why?"
Ilaria edged closer, casting a wary glance at the kitchen staff to be sure no one was listening. "The balcony doors were open last night...and then the lanterns flickered out, I guess that's how it seeped in."
"...What?"
"You weren't there in the chamber. I called for everyone, but no one answered me, not even Sir Rocky or Sir Ricky. It was as if the whole palace had vanished," Ilaria whispered, lowering her head. "It was...eerie."
"But I was certain the balcony was locked before we were called away for the rearrangements," Melyn said softly. "And I left Liana and Theana behind to wait for you."
"They weren't there," Ilaria said quickly, shaking her head. "There's no one stationed at my door too. Maybe that 'thing' was trying to trick me. You know how illusions work, it kept whispering nonsense into my head!"
Melyn's brows furrowed, her hands stilling over the dough. There was something not right about this whole thing, but she decided to put it away for now. "...Are you truly okay now?"
"I'm fine," Ilaria replied quickly, almost too brightly, as she arranged the sliced rolls neatly on the tray. "I suppose the hallowbloom really does work its magic. Maybe I should keep it braided into my hair all the time like an amulet. That way, even if shadows creep back, they'll know better than to bother me."
Melyn glanced at her warily, thinking to herself. And then, a familiar voice drifted in.
"Shadows, amulets, and hallowbloom? Sounds more like you're brewing charms than baking rolls."
Both women turned, startled to find the second prince walking lazily towards them. His arms were crossed, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.
"Your Highness," Melyn bowed deeply.
"Vin!" Ilaria called out, her face brightening. She brushed the flour off her hands and waved him over. "Come, you're just in time, we're making sweet rolls!"
"I should've known I'd find you here," Melvin said, strolling in with that easy gait of his as he scanned the tray of sweet rolls and the cute mess. "The kitchens have practically become your second chamber."
Ilaria grinned, dusting flour from her fingers. "And what's wrong with that? At least here I can bribe people with sweets. Want to help?"
Melvin raised a brow, amused. "Help? I thought I was here to taste-test. You wouldn't want to risk poisoning your royal family, would you?"
"Poison? No! These rolls will be the envy of the entire palace!"
Melyn quietly set another tray on the counter. "As long as Your Highness doesn't eat the dough raw, perhaps."
Melvin glanced at the handmaiden, the corner of his mouth quirking up in mirth. "I'll behave...if you're watching."
Melyn barely gave him a glance as she carried the tray toward the hearth, where the kitchen fire glowed steadily.
"If you eat it raw and get a stomach ache, that's on you," Ilaria huffed.
Melvin looked back at her and chuckled. "Then you'll have to nurse me back to health, won't you? What kind of sister-in-law lets her poor brother suffer?"
"I'll send you straight to the healers," Ilaria shot back, pointing at him with the whisker. "I'm not wasting my sweets on someone who can't even wait for them to bake."
"Harsh," Melvin grinned. "But I bet yours taste better than anything the kitchen could make. My sister-in-law is such a baking master after all."
Ilaria narrowed her eyes, trying not to smile. "Flattery won't get you an early bite."
"Was worth a try," he said with exaggerated defeat, raising his hands in surrender.
Ilaria ended up giving him the first bite. They had made plenty, enough for the kitchen staff who had been sneaking glances throughout the morning. Ilaria happily offered the rolls around, enjoying the smiles of those who gratefully accepted them. She then set aside two piece for herself and the rest for Melyn, much to Melyn's dismay.
Once everything was in its place, Ilaria dusted the flour from her hands and allowed herself to be guided out. By the time they returned to her chamber, Ilaria carried with her a single sweet roll that was carefully wrapped in a square of soft silk. It was not for herself — this one, she had decided, would be for her husband.
Melyn was already fussing over her, brushing flour from her sleeves and smoothing her hair as if she were a child who had rolled in sugar.
"Hold still," she murmured, dusting the last traces from her gown.
Ilaria giggled, trying to squirm away. "I think I did better this time, though! No flour explosion."
"You still look like you wrestled with the dough," Melyn said dryly, but there was warmth in her eyes as she continued fussing over the princess until not a speck remained.
"Go to sleep, Mel," Ilaria urged softly. "Or should I follow you back to your room myself?"
"I can manage on my own, don't worry."
"Well," Ilaria pointed at her bed with a grin, "you know what's better than dragging yourself down the stairs just to sleep? There's a perfectly free bed right here."
"It's not free, it's yours."
"I can share."
Melyn arched a brow, lowering her voice as if testing. "Princess, didn't you want to go see His Highness?"
Ilaria froze, her grin faltering for a heartbeat before her eyes widened. She glanced toward the little bundle of silk on her table, the one she had so carefully wrapped. Then she glanced toward the cloak he had draped so carefully on the armchair for reasons unknown to her.
"Right..." Ilaria murmured, then she touched Melyn's arm. "Okay, but you've done enough for me, Mel, so go to sleep. I'll only be a moment."
"But, Princess—"
"No buts," Ilaria shushed her and opened the door to peek her head out to the guards stationed outside her chamber, her eyes twinkling in delight, her voice soft like cotton. "Sir Ricky, will you escort me safely to His Highness' chamber?"
The guard bowed deeply. "Of course, Your Highness."
"See?" Ilaria teased, giving Melyn a little nudge. "Now rest, or I'll be cross with you in the afternoon."
Without waiting for her response, she immediately crossed the room to take the neatly wrapped sweet rolls and the cloak draped over the chair, folding it carefully before hugging both tightly to her chest.
Turning to Melyn with a mischievous smile, she called, "Bye, Mel! Love you—muah!" She blew an exaggerated air-kiss and bounded out of the chamber as one of the Obsidian guards immediately trailing from behind, her skirts swishing as she went to seek her husband.
Melyn stood by the doorway, watching her vanish down the corridor with a sigh. The room felt far too quiet without the princess' cheer now. Left alone at last, she pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes sharpened as she thought about their conversation earlier. With her resolve intact, she closed the door and turned down the hallway to go downstair.