No one expected to find Elowen, daughter of the Earl of Nene, covered in flour. Still, Elowen preferred to stay busy and far from her stepmother's frivolities if she could help it. Her father expected each of his children to be responsible, and Elowen had taken over coordinating the manor kitchen at seventeen.
The city had nearly forgotten about the earl's daughter. Elowen didn't mind. In fact, she wished she could disappear entirely. She occasionally appeared at her father's masked balls, but she preferred to make sure the kitchen was in working order for each feast.
Elowen figured that her father would marry her to some noble eventually, but until then, she could stay in her happy place, arm-deep in flaky pastry dough.
Tonight's ball was in full swing, with partygoers goggling at all the magical artifacts her family collected. When Elowen stuck her head in the ballroom, she spotted a dozen blonde haired Cyrans looking over a collection of wands and even a few Saharites in their sequined robes whispering about the fairy wings pinned on the wall.
Her father had the largest collection of fairy magic in any kingdom. He'd spent countless hours making purchases to expand the collection. Elowen wasn't sure why, but tonight, she had a strange desire to join the party.
"Milady," Cookie pulled her back into the kitchen. "You cannot go out there like that. What would your father say?"
Cookie wiped at Elowen's face with a clean towel. The old baker had been with the earl's family as long as Elowen could remember. She'd taught Elowen everything she knew about baking and had mothered Elowen after her mother passed.
"Sorry, Cookie," Elowen said. "I was checking the state of the buffet and the appetizers."
"Liar," Cookie waved a finger in her face. "Now go and take Wryn her dinner and get cleaned up if you want to go into the party so badly."
Elowen sighed. She hadn't been to a party in over a month, even though they were bi-weekly affairs. Her brother was supposed to be back from trading in Sahar, and if he were around, he'd hate that she was hiding in the kitchen again.
Cookie handed Elowen a plate of warmed food and opened the servant stairs in the back of the kitchen for her lady. Elowen hated how dim the servant stairs were but was grateful that the lantern in front of the attic door hadn't gone out.
Elowen crouched and slid the plate through a slot at the bottom of the door. She rapped her fingers on the wood and waited a moment.
"El?" A voice on the other side of the door whispered.
"Wryn," Elowen breathed a sigh of relief. "How are you feeling?"
"Bored," the girl on the other side of the door said. "I'm coughing a little today, but I'm feeling better. Honest."
Wryn was Elowen's stepmother's youngest daughter. She had a chronic and contagious illness, and the doctor had recommended that she stay isolated so she didn't pass the ailment on to anyone else. The earl had allowed his wife to convert his attic into a healing space for her daughter.
Elowen was one of the only people who visited Wryn frequently. Even Elowen's stepmother seemed to hate the task. If Elowen was forgotten, Wryn was invisible. Most people didn't even know the countess had a third daughter.
"I wish I could leave," Wryn said. "Can you see about bringing me a few books again?"
"Of course," Elowen promised. "I'll see what I can do tomorrow. I wish I could stay, but I must clean up for the party."
"You're going?" Wryn sounded wistful. "Dance with a rich noble for me."
Elowen blushed. She usually stayed on the party's edges or ducked into the gardens. She knew how, but she'd never danced at an official function.
"I'll try," Elowen whispered. "I'll tell you all about the party at breakfast."
She felt bad, but Wryn couldn't come. Despite how well she claimed to be, the doctors hadn't cured her. Wryn was sick, and nothing anyone could do could make her better.
Elowen made her way back to her room and found her nightly party dress lying on her bed. Her maid Britt sat in the corner looking bored until she saw Elowen.
"Milady," Britt smiled. "Please tell me you want to attend the festivities."
"I'm going to the party, Britt," Elowen said. "Please make me into a lady."
Britt clapped. "With pleasure, Lady Elowen."
Elowen always felt exposed in big, flouncy party gowns. Her heels clacked on the floor, drawing too much attention to the midnight blue dress Britt had selected. Her brown hair was swept into an elaborate updo and pinned with a peacock feather that matched her mask.
While only half of the partygoers used masks, Elowen preferred them. Her mask crept under her brown bangs to hide the birthmark on her forehead. Her brother always said it looked like someone had left an imprint of their painted lips on her brow
She spotted her brother Brennon dancing with some masked girl on the other side of the room. If he had known to look for her, the mask would have made it that much harder for Brennon to pull her into the spotlight.
She placed a few puffed pastries she made on a little plate and headed out to the garden. Elowen walked around a couple, giggling, and headed into the Earl of Nene's famous hedge garden.
Technically, the place had once been her mother's. Countess Lyrena had loved cultivating flowers and growing anything green. Then, one day, she'd pricked her finger on a poisonous thorn in the garden when Elowen was six, and she'd been unable to recover.
Her father hadn't married her stepmother Monique until Elowen was thirteen and Brennon was fifteen. It was a marriage of convenience. The Earl of Nene didn't have to sell any of his precious magical artifacts to keep his expenses afloat, and Monique and her three daughters got titles skyrocketing into society with their new stations as ladies.
The garden was the only thing that truly remained of Elowen's mother. Her stepmother, Countess Monique, had threatened to destroy it several times, but the earl insisted it was a favorite of his party attendees.
Elowen knew that most people used the hedges to be unseen. She passed a pair of lovers around a corner and silently crept past them around another piece of greenery.
It was then she ran directly into someone's pressed uniform. Her crispy treats spilled all over his jacket spilling crumbs everywhere. She cried out and pushed her pastries back onto her plate, apologizing profusely to the stranger before her.
She couldn't see most of his face since it was hidden behind a checkered mask made of pieces of onyx and diamond that stopped just above his quirking mouth. His wavy blonde hair touched the top of his epaulets, and his intense blue gaze was fixed on Elowen.
"I am so sorry," Elowen said for what felt like the millionth time. "I didn't see you and..."
She was blubbering. The stranger broke his stare and brushed crumbs off his uniform. Elowen's face burned under her mask.
"It is quite all right," his voice was soft. "I didn't see you either."
"It's my fault," Elowen said. "My apologies... milord?"
It was a guess, but now that she was looking at him, she could see all the metals on his fine jacket. The largest she'd seen on only one man in her life, and her eyes grew wide.
"Your Highness," she tried to curtsy and hold on to her plate so her pastries wouldn't go flying again in front of the crown prince of Cyra. "Forgive me for not recognizing you."
"As I said before, it is quite all right," Prince Fletcher de Cyra took the plate from her so she could rise from her curtsy with greater ease. "I don't assume people will recognize me when I wear a mask."
He pulled off the article as if it offended him and hung the mask off a bejeweled cane leaning against a hedge. Then he waited expectantly for a beat. Her face heated as she realized he wanted her to take off her mask.
Elowen removed her mask and looked up at the prince. She'd studied each of the royals of the surrounding countries with Brennon. Their father had orchestrated the studies so they'd know all of the nobles around the free city of Nene. Still it hadn't prepared her for dealing with Fletcher.
"Still, I must apologize," Elowen said.
Her father would be mortified if he found out she'd spilled food on the crown prince of Cyra. Brennon would tease her mercilessly.
Fletcher plucked one of the pastries off her plate and put it in his mouth. His chewing was quick before it slowed and he swallowed. He immediately lit up as his lips formed a devilish grin.
"Have you tried this?" He asked. "The blueberry and the goat cheese is divine."
Elowen managed a slight smile. "I made them."
No sooner had her confession hurdled from her lips than she realized what she'd done. No one knew that the Earl of Nene's daughter was a baker. He'd think she was little more than kitchen help sneaking away from her duties in a stolen dress.
"Did you really?" The prince looked astonished. "I love it. You must give me your recipe sometime. I will send someone for it in the morning. I assume you must live here at the Nene manor."
"Yes," Elowen didn't know what else to say.
It was better that the prince didn't know who she really was. After all, what would people think if it got out that the daughter of the Earl of Nene was working as a baker? She didn't need the attention.
"What other confections have you created?" Fletcher eyed the other two pastries on the plate. "Are these yours as well?"
"That one is a strawberry turnover," Elowen said. "And the other is a flaked donut that Cookie made."
Fletcher chuckled. "Cookie?"
"The head baker," Elowen said. "She's practically my mother."
She couldn't believe she'd just admitted that to a prince. Brennon made fun of her for spending so much time with Cookie when they were younger.
Fletcher didn't judge. "That's lovely. She must be an excellent teacher. I'll certainly send someone for that recipe. Now, I wish I could stay, but unfortunately, I need to be on my way. Perhaps I'll see you at another function soon?"
He reached out to the topiary beside them and procured the cane looping the mask around his wrist. He shifted his weight and used the ornate stick to limp away into the night.
Elowen watched the prince disappear into the hedge maze. It was only when he was out of sight she realized that he'd taken her plate of sweets with him.
She sadly made her back to the party. By the time she made it back inside, all of the pastries were long gone. She slumped around the edge of the ballroom and back into the kitchen, wishing for the smile she'd brought him through her baking tonight.