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The clatter of pots and pans echoed merrily through the College kitchens as Nadine and Rhiannon gathered their equipment. Already, the counters were stacked high with ingredients—slabs of butter, jugs of milk, bags of flour. Other, smaller sacks nestled jauntily to the sides—sugar, moon sugar, fruits and spices, all perfect for creating culinary delights. The kitchen itself was hodgepodge, a little run down, but it was manageable. Nadine could improvise.
A burst of flame from her palm ignited the wood and coals in the hearth. “Give this a moment to heat,” she said, smiling at Rhiannon, “and in the meantime we can start preparing the rest.”
Rhiannon looked back at her, hazel eyes wide, clutching a saucepan in her hand like a mace. “I’m really, really terrible at cooking, you know.” Her brow furrowed. “I was banned from the kitchen back home.”
“Well, you aren’t here,” Nadine shrugged simply, taking the pan from her and setting it atop the counter. “I hereby un-ban you from the kitchen, Miss Amorell.”
The way Rhiannon giggled, soft and gentle and singsong, made Nadine’s heart soar. A blush ran up her neck as she rootled in the spice sack, eventually withdrawing something long and gnarled and black.
Rhiannon’s eyes lit up. “Is that vanilla?” She bounded over, examining the dried pod with fascination, running it between her palms and sniffing. “I’d love to get a sample of this, if I could. For alchemical purposes.”
“Absolutely. We only need to scrape the beans out into the milk. Speaking of which—” Nadine said, handing Rhiannon a knife. “I’ll let you take care of that.”
After almost dropping the pod into the milk and cutting her own thumb, Rhiannon scraped the sticky black beans into the saucepan, humming contentedly as she did so. “It’s not unlike alchemy,” she said, stirring the mixture over the low heat of the hearth as Nadine sprinkled in finely ground moon sugar. Nadine watched the mixture less diligently than she would have liked, too distracted by the way Rhiannon’s curls bounced gently around her sweet, round face, and the way her eyes closed in bliss at the sweet scent that filled the room. She barely noticed the milk bubble up, almost breaching the lip of the pot as it furiously foamed.
Rhiannon’s expression turned from bliss to panic as the milk spilled over. “Oh no, Nadine, I’ve ruined it and—” she sighed. “This is why nobody lets me near kitchens.”
“Rhiannon, it’s fine! I promise.” Nadine removed the pot from the flame, allowing it to steady to a simmer. “Used to happen to Sebastian all the time. Just bubbled over a little, it isn’t ruined.” She gathered a little on her wooden spoon. “Look, give it a try.”
The expression on Rhiannon’s face suggested she was dubious about doing so.
“Okay, I’ll give it a try.” She sipped the milk from her spoon. A tiny bit overboiled, maybe, but still delicious. “See? Perfect. Your turn.”
Nadine offered the spoon to Rhiannon, who accepted it more readily this time. Relief washed over her face, then glee as she licked her lips, savouring the taste.
“This is… really good, Nadine.” She smiled. “I can’t believe I didn’t ruin it.”
“You know you don’t give yourself enough credit, don’t you?”
Rhiannon sighed. “I know.” She looked into the pot, face pensive.
Nadine ached to take her in her arms, stroke her cheek, tell her just how beautiful and wonderful and talented she was, but instead she settled for taking her hand. Rhiannon’s squeezed hers, thumb running circles across her own, and for a moment they were lost in that one, singular moment—fingers entwined, shallow breaths falling in rhythm with one another.
“We should get back to cooking, I suppose,” Rhiannon said, hazel eyes burning into Nadine like cooking was the last thing from her mind, and before Nadine knew it they were moving towards each other, lips pressed together in a kiss Nadine had ached for since they’d first met, tasting the faint hint of vanilla on Rhiannon’s tongue.