07. The Fragrance of Destiny
1490 Words
A silence enveloped the luxurious room, and then Alexander rose from his seat, hurling the medallion forcefully toward the wooden furniture beside him—as if the jewel had suddenly lost all its value.
He then turned to Thomas and said:
"It is no coincidence that she had the scent of a hunter on her. Most likely, they were following that woman," his gaze on Thomas, who nodded.
"Jaime and I came to the same conclusion, Your Majesty. They wanted to send us a message."
"Damn hunters... I want to personally annihilate them all," said Alexander, a smile brimming with rage.
"Your Majesty, you cannot do it. There are too many of them, and we are few. We are the only ones left" said Thomas, looking at Alexander with concern.
"You are of vital importance to our species. If something were to happen to you, everything would be lost. The hunters would have won."
"They haven't managed to kill me in thirty years. At this point, I doubt they will succeed."
Thomas pressed his lips together. When the king was not in a bad mood, he usually appeared optimistic. The young man nodded silently.
"If the former maid is gone, let's allow the ugly American to stay for today," the blond stated plainly. "If the hunters are stalking our territory, she might attract them since, thanks to you, she has an invitation to my domains," said Alexander.
Without hesitation, Thomas shrugged.
"Tomorrow I want her fired and sent on a ship straight to her beloved America," ordered Alexander seriously.
"Make sure to find another maid, one that doesn't attract too much attention. The scrawny one has done enough."
"So it will be, Your Majesty," Thomas responded immediately.
"Tomorrow I will take care of getting a ship ticket to America with no chance of coming back."
"Very well, now leave. I want to be alone," ordered Alexander, and Thomas bowed before leaving.
Meanwhile, Emily was already in the kitchen. Campbell showed her where all the ingredients were and which foods she should avoid. He informed her that Mr. Alexander did not like pasta or seafood but enjoyed meats, chicken, and fish. Moreover, he was a lover of croissants but despised puff pastry. Emily took note of everything and set out to prepare lunch in the allotted time—one hour—to please the master of the house.
"I'll get started," said Emily, putting on the apron and feeling the importance of the task at hand. She sensed that her life was at stake and took it very seriously.
Thus, as the sun's rays streamed through the lace curtains of the modest kitchen compared to the opulent mansion, Emily immersed herself in her culinary mission.
With care and attention, she examined the ingredients laid out on the countertop, ensuring she had everything she needed to please Mr. Alexander.
"I will prepare the best lunch I have ever made in my life," Emily affirmed, full of determination.
With her usual skill, Emily began to create an exquisite meal worthy of the most refined palates. She cut each piece of meat with precision, ensuring they remained juicy and tender. The aromatic seasonings blended in perfect harmony, enhancing the natural flavors of the ingredients she worked with. Although she did not have formal training in gastronomy, she remembered Sister Camelia—the cook at the orphanage—and knew that if Sister Camelia hadn't become a nun, she would have aspired to become a professional chef.
As life led her to become a nun instead, Sister Camelia had passed all her knowledge to Emily; now, at that moment, the young woman was putting it into practice. For a moment, she recalled that the nuns at the orphanage believed she would follow their path and join them as a nun caring for the orphanage's girls.
"Emily, since no one has adopted you, you have two options: join us as a novice nun or face the real world as a seamstress. You decide." Those were the options Emily remembered having been given, but she chose neither.
As the ingredients cooked slowly, Emily showcased her mastery. She worked with grace, demonstrating a talent and passion that only true artists possess. Her slender and agile hands moved with fine precision as she added just the right ingredients at opportune moments to achieve a perfect combination of flavors and textures.
The sizzling sound of the pan and delicious aromas filled the kitchen, building an almost palpable anticipation. As time passed, Emily maintained a steady and confident pace. Every movement conveyed her devotion and commitment; she knew there was much more at stake than just a simple meal. The aromas of meat, spices, and other ingredients reached the keen olfactory senses of three wolves lurking nearby. Soon after, a young stranger poked his head through the kitchen door.
"What is that aroma?" he asked with curiosity.
Emily turned and saw a tall young man with fair skin, jet-black hair, and almond-shaped eyes enter confidently into the kitchen. Although his features seemed like he was chinese at first glance,
Emily noticed that his honey-colored eyes were freckled, something unusual. Behind him appeared first Thomas and then Campbell; both observed without saying much. The only one who broke the silence was the butler.
"Miss Smith, the aroma of what you are preparing has filled the entire mansion," he stated seriously.
"Is that bad? I should have opened the windows; I'm sorry if the smell of spices is annoying." Emily responded hastily.
"Oh! You have an American accent; I suppose you're from there," commented Jaime, the young man, looking Emily over.
Jaime was in his twenties—one year younger than Thomas—and was also an alpha werewolf of British and Chinese descent. Although his Asian features were evident, his honey-colored eyes and freckles gave him a unique appearance.
"We don't mind if you're American or not; what matters to us is whether that delicious aroma coming from your food is a trap. Our master is not swayed by pleasant smells," Jaime interjected frankly.
"A trap?" Emily inquired puzzledly; however Thomas quickly nudged Jaime to silence him.
"How much longer? Our master is hungry," asked Thomas while scrutinizing Emily as Jaime had done.
She quickly turned and replied: "Not much longer!"
The clock ticked each second with relentless precision; that comment reminded Emily that she had to meet her one-hour deadline for having her creation ready. However, she did not allow pressure to take hold of her spirit. With unshakable serenity, she stoked the oven's embers—allowing various aromas and flavors to merge into a culinary masterpiece meant to delight all senses.
The werewolves surrounding her were on edge secretly drooling as they too were hungry—not just Alexander.
"The food is ready! I'll serve you," announced Emily with a smile as she noticed that during those last minutes of allotted time she had had company from three servants who were actually there to watch her; they did not fully trust her despite having no evidence labeling her as a spy or intruder.
"First you must take food to His Majesty; we will eat afterward Miss Smith," instructed Campbell which caused nerves to gather in Emily's stomach.
"Understood," replied Emily swallowing hard.
The decisive moment finally arrived. Emily arranged dishes elegantly on a tray, harmonizing each element in an impeccable presentation, the lunch was ready to captivate Mr. Alexander's demanding palate.
With satisfaction and pride shining through her smile, Emily removed her apron accompanying Mr. Campbell who carried their tray while she walked by his side—knowing this meal was not just another dish; it was a demonstration of talent and dedication worth risking everything for success, and now all that remained was awaiting their master's reaction hoping her culinary work would be appreciated just as she had imagined it would be.
When they found themselves before his door—to Emily's surprise—it wasn't necessary for them even knock since Mr.Wolfsbone instructed them: "Come in."
Emily blinked perplexed: "How did he know we were on this side without us even saying we're here?" She asked whispering seeing how this question hung in air when butler replied: "Open the door; my hands are full."
"Yes. I'll go right away."
Upon opening door—the enigmatic singular master Wolfsbone mansion sat on the chair, drinking something they couldn't quite see.
Alexander observed the girl.
"Campbell! Give this joke of a woman a tray to serve me!"
Joke of a woman? How dare he! He's so rude! Thought Emily swallowing words deep down.
Campbell did exactly what Alexander asked while Emily carried the heavy tray. The dishes clattered setting down the polished wooden surface, just when thought should leave Alexander said:
"Sit down taste your own food."
"What?" questioned Emily instantly understanding reason request
"I haven't poisoned the food Mr.Wolfsbone!"
"Do as I ordered. Eat!" shouted Alexander making Emily tremble.
- Writer
