“Morning, traitor,” said Cedric with a sneer.
Chapter 4 — The Traitors' Son. Mark of the Shadow — Book 1 of the Phantom Lord Saga.
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Revilo Nesneve, Master Chef of Quilendell, wiped the sweat from his brow, tightened his apron strings, and steeled himself before he entered the grand kitchens. Today was his first day in this esteemed role, and despite feeling weak at the knees, he was determined to make an indelible impression on his fellow cooks. Revilo adjusted his chef’s cap, ensuring it concealed the unmistakable slave’s brand on his head—a constant reminder that he was not a free man.
The kitchen was a symphony of sounds—clanging pots, shouting cooks, and the constant crackling of flames from the hearth. Chefs and cooks from all over Elyora bustled through their tasks, contributing to the lively atmosphere, but the moment Revilo stepped through the door the camaraderie permeating this bustling space vanished immediately. It was replaced by dismissive glances and hushed whispers, none more cutting than those from his fellow cooks. Their disdain was palpable, a relentless reminder that no matter his appointment, in their eyes, he would always be the traitor’s son.
“Good morning,” Revilo announced, his voice radiating a confidence he did not truly possess.
“Morning, traitor,” said Cedric with a sneer, barely looking up from where he was chopping vegetables. The others snickered under their breath, but avoided eye contact with him.
Revilo grimaced at the comment. A fleeting impulse urged him to touch the hidden, incriminating brand on his head, but he dismissed the asinine notion, instead locking an unwavering gaze on his accuser. Cedric had been the frontrunner for the Master Chef position, but Revilo had surpassed him, much to Cedric’s evident displeasure, but they both knew the reason for Revilo’s selection—pure talent.
“Call me what you wish outside these walls, but in here I am your Master Chef. Is that understood?” Revilo declared.
"Yes chef," The other cooks muttered, their faces flushed.
Revilo understood their resentment. In his youth, his parents had been executed as traitors to the Crown, but he believed that their actions should not define him. Determined to prove his worth through his own merits, he faced the challenge head-on. However, this resolve did little to quell Cedric's fury, whose face twisted with rage, his hand gripping the handle of his knife tightly.
“You might have fooled the king with your deception,” Cedric spat, “but we know the truth.”
Revilo remained stoic, refusing to let his words affect him.
“Cedric,” Revilo said. “You’re dismissed.”
Cedric’s mouth dropped open in outrage.
“You little –“
“I said, dismissed,” Revilo interrupted, his voice unwavering.
Cedric plunged his knife into the wooden cutting board with a resounding thud before storming out of the kitchen in a fit of anger, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. The others, momentarily stunned, swiftly resumed their tasks, all the while trying to avoid his piercing gaze.
Revilo managed a weary grin. This wasn’t the kind of relationship he envisioned with his staff, but until he earned their respect, it would have to do. As he walked through the kitchens, shouting orders, he reminded himself of the looming Otter Festival. Every feast had to be planned and executed flawlessly. The Otter Feast, the festival’s grand finale, was the pivotal event that would make or break his reputation. Revilo was ready to show the King and his court just exactly what he could do.
Revilo exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and turned to resume his duties, only to hear someone clear their throat behind him. He turned and found himself face-to-face with Adeline Lamont, the Ambassador of Inkholme. Her steely hazel eyes locked onto his, a stark contrast to her bold sleeveless marmalade dress, which complemented her rich chocolate skin and rose-painted lips.
“You surprise me,” Adeline said softly, ignoring the frenzied activity swirling around them. “I never imagined you could be so... ruthless.”
“You saw that?” Revilo asked, tugging at the collar of his shirt.
Adeline smiled warmly before planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.
Revilo blushed, resisting the temptation to inhale her sweet jasmine scent. His face grew even hotter as memories of their forbidden kisses flooded his mind.
“Not here,” Revilo said.
Adeline grabbed his hand and tightened her grip around it. “Spare me a moment of your time.”
Revilo gazed deeply into her eyes, realizing she wasn’t asking—she was ordering him. He quickly scanned the kitchen, his eyes darting nervously from corner to corner, haunted by thoughts of impropriety. It was his first day on the job and she wanted him to sneak off duty? Worse, she was the ambassador of Inkholme, which was the land of his forefathers, and the very country which betrayed King Richard. The last thing he needed was to give the court more reasons to doubt his loyalty. And yet... she had that look in her eyes—the one that always made his pulse quicken and his heart flutter.
“Please, Revilo,” Adeline pressed. “This is important.”
“Of course,” he replied in a whisper. His voice rising as he turned to address his staff. “Chip, chop, people. We have feasts to prepare. Denn, you're in charge while I'm away, but I will return shortly to observe your progress. And I expect that there will be progress.”
"Yes, Chef," the other cooks shouted.
With one final glance behind him, Revilo allowed Adeline to lead him through the throng and out through the back entrance. Within minutes they were heading into the gardens, where a secluded arbor stood. The sweet smell of flowers permeated the area, calming Revilo’s nerves. He took in Adeline’s features as they walked—her long braided hair, her gracefully sculpted neck—and felt an inexplicable sense of longing flood through him.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” Adeline said, her voice low, tinged with disappointment.
Revilo shook his head. “I’ve been busy… preparing feasts for the Otter Festival.”
Adeline raised a dark brow.
“And you’ve been busy too, doing what ambassadors do I suppose,” Revilo said.
Adeline leaned in to kiss him, but Revilo turned away. Undeterred, she moved closer, gently pulling back his chef’s cap to reveal the brand on his head. The mark was seared into his skin with brutal precision—a twisted rune that forever labeled him a traitor and a slave. Its jagged lines formed an intricate but harsh symbol, unmistakable to anyone. It was a permanent, damning reminder of his parents' betrayal. Every time someone saw it, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear, revulsion, and disdain, cementing his status as an outcast not just in the kitchens, but in the entire realm.
“You’ve been busy hiding,” she said, her rich, alto voice soothing his soul as her face drew close to his. Revilo felt her breath on his lips and caught the sweet scent of jasmine on her ebony skin.
“I know what happened to you and your family,” Adeline continued. “And I know why you’re here.”
“Then you know why I can’t be with you,” Revilo said. “I'm nobody. A slave to the crown.”
“In Inkholme, you would be hailed a hero,” Adeline said. “And you wouldn't have to hide who you really are." She paused, her head resting on his chest. "You could... still leave with me?”
"Please don't start that again," Revilo said, his body already tensing in anticipation of the impending argument. "You know I can't. If the king discovers what you did, it would shatter the treaty. Peace between the kingdoms is fragile enough as it is. Do you really want to add fuel to the fire?"
“I haven’t forgotten your opinion on the matter,” Adeline said bitterly. “But after all this time. After all this suffering, I would have thought you would have changed your mind.”
Revilo’s heart ached at the pain in her voice. “Adeline, please understand. It’s too great a risk.”
Adeline’s eyes sparked with a mix of anger and hurt. “Too great a risk for who? You or me?”
“I don’t know,” Revilo admitted. “But we both know it can never be more than that. So why torture ourselves with these stolen moments?”
“You know why,” Adeline said, before closing the distance between them and claiming his lips in a passionate kiss.
Revilo could no longer resist. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her closer as he leaned into their kiss. The warmth of her body against his and the softness of her lips sent shivers down his spine. In that moment, he let go of all the dangers and risks, surrendering himself entirely to her. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in a timeless embrace. He pulled away briefly, his breath coming in quick gasps, only to draw her back in for another kiss, deeper and more urgent than the last.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” Revilo remarked. “I need to get back to the kitchens. Was that really the reason why you whisked me away from work? To ask me to leave... again?”
“Always in a hurry,” Adeline said, her eyes welled up with unshed tears as she grasped his hand tightly. “I have a gift for you.”
“A gift?” Revilo said. “ What kind of gift?”
Adeline reached into her satchel and extracted a long, intricately carved wooden box. Upon opening it, she revealed a sheathed, slender blade adorned with elaborate designs, resting on a deep rouge velvet interior.
“It’s a ceremonial blade,” Adeline explained. “King Richard gives them out to diplomats, this one represents the unity between Inkholme and Quilendell. Perfect for both cooking and combat.”
Revilo was speechless. He had never been given such an extravagant gift before. “I can’t... I can’t accept this.”
“Please,” Adeline said, pushing the box into his hands. “Keep it on you, always. As a reminder of our love and the sacrifices we make for it.”
Revilo reluctantly took the gift. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
He kissed her forehead, and they embraced again.
“Meet me here again this weekend,” Adeline said, “just before the final feast.”
“Before the Otter Feast?” Revilo said, shaking his head. “I can’t. The king will be officially appointing me as the new Master Chef of Quilendell.”
“Trust me,” Adeline pleaded. “I promise to make it worth your while.”
Revilo hesitated, but ultimately gave in to her sweet words and pleading eyes.
“Fine,” he said with a sheepish grin. “But only for a moment, then we both head back to the feast hall. Now I really have to get back to work.”
“Perfect,” Adeline beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy as she kissed him once more. Revilo sighed, enjoying the tenderness of her black supple lips. They lingered for a moment, savoring the embrace, before they reluctantly parted ways, each turning back with a smile. He watched her go, before quickly running off back toward the kitchens.
Time crawled after that, and he couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt wash over him. Revilo wasn't certain if he could make it to their meeting, and when it came down to it, risking his reputation on the distant promise of their love felt increasingly impossible. Still, he couldn’t deny the happiness Adeline brought him, even if it was just in stolen moments of secrecy. For the rest of the day, his mind swirled with thoughts of his duty to the king, his loyalty to Quilendell, and his forbidden love for Adeline. Yet, as he immersed himself in cooking, he found solace—a sanctuary where his worries dissolved into each dish he crafted. He knew that a crucial choice loomed on the horizon, and he prayed fervently to Inari that he would make the right decision.
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