A Woven Attachment
Chapter 13
Emmy’s fingers lightly touched the glass separating her from a mountain of yummy snacks and pastries. It’s been so long since I had my parent’s baking! With Celia’s frequent visits and the stack of commissions, Emmy’s visits to Falworth Baking had notably declined, much to her parent’s disappointment.
It was the usual lunch rush and her father could only spare a hearty wave before returning to the tizzy, dishing up his delicious concoctions while her mother served the tables.
Emmy’s mouth salivated; afterall, she was a woman of refined taste—at least when it came to bread! Celia, however, gazed around the shop with her intimidating blank stare, taking in the simple surroundings. Accustomed to the luxuries of the palace, the bakery’s cozy and simplistic interior was as different to her as a world from a fantasy novel.
While Celia was busy looking around, many of the patrons were busy looking at her. Even her concealment charm wasn’t enough to keep eyes from shifting her direction. They didn’t recognize her as their princess, but even dressed down, Celia’s dignified pose and sharp features attracted attention. Meanwhile, Celia’s personal knights stood guard outside, gazing glumly into the shop.
They’re probably hungry too, Emmy thought.
“Should we invite your guards to join us?”
“They’re used to it,” she said without batting an eyelash. “Besides,” her voice lowered, “I don’t desire the attention they’d draw, but Yuki insists I lug them around.”
Now this intel came as a surprise to Emmy. Was the formidable Princess Celia more shy and retiring than she thought? And was the carefree prince more cautious than he’d have her believe?
It must be a burden to be a royal, Emmy mused before her thoughts were quickly swept up by the heavenly scents around her and the friendly chatter of pleased customers.
Before long, Celia’s nose was near pressed to the glass as she eyed the apple turnovers. It was one of the least ostentatious goods on display, but the oozing cinnamon and chunky sugar topping spoke for itself.
“Here you go, miss.”
A hand appeared over the glass, holding an apple turnover in a paper cloth. Celia’s stone disposition remained intact as she reached to take it, eyes fixed on the prize, but her heart was racing in anticipation at the sugary treat.
I’d never be allowed to have this in the palace! The sugar!
A laugh rang out, “You sure were eyeing it. It’s on the house since you’re with my sister.” At the mention of his sister, Celia snapped her neck up. Emmy had mentioned her younger brother, but she hadn’t expected to meet him so soon.
She raised her porcelain face to the benevolent administrator of goods, and found herself sucked in by the tide of ocean blue eyes. Emmy, watching from such close proximity, observed something otherworldly—a blush! Indiscernible to the average eye, a faint pink rose to Celia’s pale cheeks. Emmy was sure she was watching some supernatural phenomena play out before her eyes. She’d never seen Celia with a proper smile, let alone a girlish blush. Emmy bit her lip in a desperate struggle to hide her amusement, though her face already told the story.
“Er, thank you… sir.”
Sir? Emmy winced inwardly. At best, Turrin was only a year or two older than Celia and Emmy could all but confirm that Turrin had never been addressed so formally before.
Yup, she’s stiffer than the crust on an overcooked baguette.
Nevertheless, Turrin was all smiles in return. In fact, he seemed tickled by her response. As Emmy attempted to scope out the situation, Celia turned her head sharply to look at Emmy, all but pleading for her to intervene. Emmy’s heart swelled witnessing such unprecedented bashfulness from her friend.
How adorable!
“Turrin! I didn’t know you’d be here today. This is my friend. Um. Miss Celia.”
“My oh my, what a pleasure! And here I was thinking you didn’t have any.”
“Hey! If you weren’t behind the counter, I’d give you a good smack in the ribs!” Emmy threatened, though both were grinning. Celia watched warmly, as their father mosied over to break up their little squabble, clapping Turrin on the shoulder before giving him a side hug that looked suspiciously close to a headlock.
What a happy family, Celia mused.
By the time they walked out, Celia was glowing so bright that she all but ascended into the heavens above. She then whirled around to face Emmy, her red eyes fixated on Emmy.
“Were you just going to hide your brother from me all this time?”
“As in the entirety of the two weeks we’ve been acquainted?” Emmy asked playfully, though she was a little thrown off by Celia’s sudden interest. Though she looked tough and detached, she was quick to latch onto Emmy and now…
What kind of life, I wonder, would leave someone so desirous of companionship?
***
The sunlight poured from the window behind Yuki onto the smaller breakfast table the Clarion children preferred for taking their morning repast. While it was hardly a family affair, Yuki and Celia enjoyed their breakfast together while their parents dined… elsewhere. From what they’d overheard from the servants, their mother took breakfast in bed on most days while their father dined in his study—not that this mattered to them. In fact, the further away they were, the better.
Yuki bit into his rye toast and munched thoughtfully, looking around the room. Unlike the rest of the palace, this room wasn’t overly gaudy or richly furnished. Instead it held a charming oval table with a hint of inlay, soft blue silk curtains and cream dining chairs with grooved legs. It was, in short, their haven. Inhaling deeply, Yuki felt a peace fall over him as he peered through the window to the garden below.
Celia was yet to grace him with her presence. His brow creased as he recalled her frequent – and unwanted – remarks about the value of punctuality. About halfway through his toast, she plodded in and sunk deeply into the seat across from her brother—so deeply that she all but disappeared. Relieved, Yuki finished his toast and dusted the crumbs from his fingertips.
“Tea?” Yuki held the pot in his hand and tilted it into her empty teacup but she held her hand up.
“Coffee. Black. No cream. No sugar.”
“You quite alright, CeCe?” Yuki asked. Her atypical drink choice seemed to signify a bad omen, but he poured her a cup nonetheless.
“Nevermind that, I’ve been tossing and turning all night and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s your fault.”
Before Yuki had the chance to open his mouth she continued, “I did your favor and gave the Yarn Spinstress your parcel.” She peered deeply into his eyes, “Or should I say love parcel?”
Yuki all but spit out his tea. Love parcel?
He’d hardly call it that, in fact, he was confident she’d chosen the most embarrassing phrase possible. It was a small act of goodwill; nothing more, nothing less. If his estimation with the gem production was right, she’d be needing it by now—but he didn’t need to trouble Celia about it.
“Gracious, woman, don’t spout such nonsense so early. I was being friendly. And doing her a favor, I’ll have you know. Besides, what’s it to you? I gave you that almost two weeks ago. Did you just get around to delivering it?”
Celia was far from the sort to get overly involved in his business, or anyone's business for that matter. And yet here she was, a few feet apart from him—glaring. Yuki racked his mind to discover what could have agitated her to the point of drinking black coffee of all things. He came up blank.
“I delivered it promptly, of course. Only it didn’t start to bother me until last night. I have a bad feeling about your little note.”
Did Emaline show her the note? Though he did nothing improper, somehow the thought made him flush.
“What are you pestering me for, anyway? I thought you only met her once. What’s it to you if I wrote her a note?”
“I’ve met her more than you now, I daresay.”
Yuki gasped. Women get to meet all the time without an excuse. What a cruel, cruel world.
Celia ceased buttering her toast to point the knife right at him, “Leave her alone you puppy-eyed lover boy.”
I’m a puppy-eyed what now?
As her remark settled in, Yuki swatted the air with his hand as if chasing away a bothersome fly.
“I assure you, I’m not any of those things. I just enjoy her company.” He continued on with his breakfast as Celia offered an overly loud, pointed sigh in his direction.
In just a few weeks Miss Emaline managed to win the steely heart of his sister—a task too great for even the greatest noble ladies and suitors in the land. She was continually turning down invitation after invitation and suitor after suitor without a second thought.
My impression of her must be right. Even if she wasn’t the Yarn Spinstress, she’d still be one of a kind. But I hope she liked my gift.
He was sure Miss Emaline wasn’t the kind of girl to swoon from one act of kindness, nor would he wish it. Though he did hope her large amber eyes lit up upon seeing the gems he handpicked for her. He smiled softly at the thought of it.
Regaining his composure he leaned forward with a twinkle in his eye. “Actually, I do have designs for her. But they have nothing to do with me. Surprised?”
Albert had asked for Yuki’s aid for finding Miss Emaline a suitor. It was his high recommendation of her that piqued his interest in her in the first place. Of course, he’d initially thought of Theo for a match—though there was no need for his matchmaking services after the whole letter debacle. Recalling the incident, Yuki’s sparkling countenance dimmed.
Theo never did tell me about the contents of that letter. But if it’s what I think it is, I should be happy for him… or them, rather.
“Leave the designing to the seamstress, why don’t you. Besides, I enjoy her company and I don’t want you interfering.”
He hadn’t seen his sister appearing so protective of someone she just met. As she chomped away at her breakfast, free from the eyes of their parents and their servants, Yuki felt a warm smile spread across his handsome face. Though she put up a hard exterior, she was still fragile and Yuki knew better than anyone that she flourished where she was free to be herself.
Who would know she’d find that with Miss Emaline?
As he considered this, he felt the urge to retract his prior statement. But as the crown prince, he had many obligations. He wasn't free to do as he willed without considering the consequences.
Their dialogue was cut short as the door to their private dining area swung wide. The king and queen strode in, chins held high as the quiet room was instantaneously flanked with servants. Yuki could feel the freedom they enjoyed but a moment before dissolving like mist through his hands. Celia and Yuki put their utensils down with a clatter.
What could they possibly want?
Comments (2)
See all