Chapter 25

TWENTY-FIVE

M ila paced the length of her quarters, her mind whirling with concern for Roq. The weight of the betrayal had left a shadow in his eyes, one she was desperate to lift. She needed a plan, something to remind him that not everything was doom and gloom. But what?

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in,” she called, grateful for the distraction.

Raelee and Zora bustled in, their faces a mix of worry and determination.

“All right, spill,” Raelee demanded, plopping down on Mila’s bed. “What’s got you wearing a hole in the carpet? I swear, if you pace any more, you’re going to discover a new layer of Tharvis.”

Mila snorted despite her mood. “Very funny. It’s Roq. This betrayal... it’s hit him hard. I want to do something to cheer him up, but I’m coming up blank.”

Zora’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, what about cookies? Nothing says ‘cheer up’ like a warm, gooey cookie.”

Mila blinked. “Cookies? On Tharvis? Zora, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re on an alien planet. I doubt they have chocolate chips and vanilla extract just lying around.”

“Why not?” Raelee grinned. “It’ll be an adventure. Plus, the mental image of you both covered in flour is too good to pass up. Remember when we tried to surprise Mom on her birthday?”

Mila groaned, the memory flooding back. “Oh god, the Great Cupcake Disaster of 2115. I thought Dad was going to have an aneurysm when he saw the kitchen.”

Zora giggled. “But Mom loved it! Remember how she just stood there, covered in batter, laughing her head off?”

“And then she joined in the food fight,” Raelee added, a fond smile on her face. “The look on the Secret Service agents’ faces when they burst in...”

For a moment, the three sisters were lost in the memory, their laughter echoing in the room. Mila felt a warmth in her chest, the worry for Roq momentarily pushed aside by the joy of shared memories.

“You know what?” Mila said, a new determination in her voice. “Let’s do it. Let’s make cookies. How hard can it be?”

Two hours later, Mila was eating her words along with a mouthful of what could generously be called cookie batter. The royal kitchen, usually a model of efficiency, had been transformed into a war zone. Flour coated every surface, eggshells crunched underfoot, and the air was thick with the smell of burnt sugar.

“I think we broke it,” Zora muttered, poking at a smoking lump on a baking sheet. “Is it supposed to be... moving?”

Mila wiped sweat from her brow, leaving a streak of flour across her forehead. “How is this so difficult? We’ve got three genius-level brains here. We should be able to figure out a simple cookie recipe!”

Raelee snorted, flicking a glob of dough at Mila. “Speak for yourself, genius. I’m just here for the chaos. Besides, last I checked, your PhD was in Environmental Science, not Intergalactic Baking.”

“Oh, like you’re doing any better, Miss ‘I’ll just triple the recipe, what could go wrong?’” Mila retorted, ducking another glob of dough.

The kitchen staff hovered nearby, their expressions a mix of horror and fascination. One brave soul, a young Tharvisian named Lirael, approached the disaster zone.

“Excuse me, Your Highnesses,” she said tentatively. “Might I inquire as to what you’re attempting to create? Some sort of... edible weapon, perhaps?”

“Cookies,” the sisters chorused, then burst into laughter at the confused look on Lirael’s face.

“It’s an Earth treat,” Mila explained, trying to salvage some dignity. “Sweet, usually round, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Not, you know, weaponized.”

“Although,” Zora mused, eyeing the rock-hard lump on the baking sheet, “we might be onto something there. Imagine throwing these at the Drakanor. We could call it Operation Cookie Monster.”

Lirael’s brow furrowed. “Ah, I see. Perhaps... perhaps you might allow me to assist? We have a similar confection here on Tharvis. It uses crystallized nectar from the Lumina flower and ground Zephyr nuts. Less likely to cause bodily harm, I believe.”

Mila exchanged glances with her sisters. “Why not? We can’t possibly make it any worse. Unless one of you is hiding some secret baking skills?”

Raelee held up her hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t look at me. The only thing I can make is reservations.”

With Lirael’s guidance, they started fresh. The kitchen came alive with a new energy as staff and royalty worked side by side. Mila found herself laughing more than she had in days, the stress of recent events melting away in the face of this simple, joyful task.

“You know,” Zora said, carefully measuring out the crystallized nectar, “this reminds me of that time Mom tried to teach us how to make her famous snickerdoodles.”

Mila grinned at the memory. “Oh yeah, and Dad kept sneaking in to steal the dough?”

“And Mom caught him red-handed,” Raelee added, “so she made him wear that ridiculous flowery apron and help out!”

The sisters dissolved into giggles, much to the bewilderment of the Tharvisian staff. Mila felt a pang of homesickness, but it was tempered by the warmth of the memory and the presence of her sisters.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lirael pulled a tray from the oven. The scent that wafted through the kitchen was heavenly, a perfect blend of sweet and nutty.

“They actually look like cookies,” Zora breathed, awe in her voice. “And not like potential murder weapons. Progress!”

Mila reached for one, ignoring the heat as she took a bite. Flavors exploded on her tongue – sweet and buttery with a hint of something almost floral. “Oh my god,” she mumbled around the mouthful. “We did it. We actually did it. Mom would be proud.”

“Or horrified at the state of this kitchen,” Raelee quipped, gesturing at the flour-covered disaster around them. “But definitely proud.”

Raelee pumped her fist in the air. “Victory! Now go, woman. Go forth and woo your prince with baked goods! Just maybe clean up a bit first. You look like you’ve been in a fight with a flour mill, and the flour mill won.”

Mila rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she carefully packed the cookies into a container. “Thanks, you guys. This was... this was exactly what I needed.”

Her sisters shooed her out of the kitchen, their encouragement following her down the hall. Mila’s heart raced as she approached the lab where she knew Roq would be working. She paused outside the door, suddenly nervous. What if this was stupid? What if he didn’t like them?

“You have got to get your shit together, Mila,” she muttered to herself. “You’ve faced down alien predators and angry council members. You can handle giving a boy some cookies.” Taking a deep breath, she palmed open the door.

Roq looked up from his workstation, surprise flickering across his features. “Mila? What are you-“ He stopped, sniffing the air. “What is that smell? And why do you look like you’ve been in a fight with a Tharvisian snow beast?”

Mila held out the container like a peace offering. “Cookies. Well, Tharvisian cookies. It’s a long story involving my sisters, a lot of flour, and some very patient kitchen staff. Don’t worry, the flour’s not contagious.”

A smile blossomed on his face, softening the lines of stress that had been etched there for days. “You... baked for me?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Mila teased, even as warmth bloomed in her chest at his reaction. “I’ll have you know I’m a woman of many talents. Baking, apparently, isn’t one of them, but I’m great at delegating.”

Roq reached for a cookie, examining it closely before taking a bite. His eyes widened, and Mila held her breath.

“This is... incredible,” he said, reaching for another. “I’ve never tasted anything like it. Though I’m a bit concerned about what the kitchen looks like if you’re in this state.”

Mila waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, you know, just a minor flour explosion. Nothing the royal cleaning staff can’t handle. Hopefully.”

Roq set down the cookies, his expression turning serious. He stepped closer to Mila, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You did all this for me?”

Mila swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how little space there was between them. “Of course. I... I care about you, Roq. I hate seeing you so weighed down by everything. Plus, I figured if the cookies turned out inedible, we could always use them as projectiles against any future Drakanor attacks.”

Roq’s hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch impossibly gentle as he brushed away a smudge of flour. “Mila,” he murmured, his voice low and intense. “You are... extraordinary. You know that? Covered in flour and all.”