A Court of Blood & Mercy || Elriel Dual POV

Chapter 11 - The Eighth Rule

Elain felt the sun peek through the glittering glass panes of the warm kitchen, the ceramic painted tiles glinting as the steam from the kettle mingled with the smells of baked cinnamon and apple, twisting and winding into her nostrils.

Penelope bit down on her lip in concentration, her small white hands gripping a tube of cream cheese frosting with precision, the thick ivory paste squeezing out in uneven bursts across the cinnamon rolls as her face began to turn an increasingly alarming shade of red.

Penelope was many things, but artistically gifted was not quite one of them.

Elain smiled encouragingly as Penelope finished a swoop of the frosting, her dark brows pulling together in frustration as she let out a huff, dropping the frosting bag onto the granite countertop with a belabored groan.

"I can't serve these to Dedushka, mama. They're hideous!" Penelope leaned her elbows forward, dropping her forehead into her small hands as a sheet of dark curls fell forward over her small shoulders.

Elain bit down on her lip, forcing the smile away from her lips.

"Oh don't worry darling. Dedushka loves this recipe! I promise you— there won't be a moment to survey them before he's inhaled the entire pan."

Penelope peeked up at her mother through her hands, a skeptical look cursing her brow as Elain forced an expression of solemn sincerity across her face.

"But what if the tetyas see and think they look bad."

"Then I'll fight them."

It was Penelope's turn to stifle a laugh.

"Mama, I don't think I can picture you fighting anyone."

"For you rypka, I'd fight a tetya. No, I'd fight TEN tetyas!" Elain said the words with puffed confidence, balling her hands into fists at her waist in a power pose.

Penelope burst out into a laugh as Elain continued her monologue, rising up from her stool before she flung her pointed finger forward, her voice lilting into theatrics.

"I'd tell them to respect the apple cinnamon rolls or they better watch out!"

Penelope shook her head as she giggled. "Watch out for what?"

"Oh, I can be quite the adversary my dear." Elain nodded seriously as she lifted five fingers, pulling them down one by one as she sent her daughter into fits of hysterical laughter. "First, I could do a rolling pin to the back of the knees. Then, a trowel or garden spade to the knuckles. I could finish up with a tiara thrown at full force to the face before we tie everyone up with ribbons!"

Penelope shrieked with laughter as Elain feigned an expression of studied consternation. "A sharp sapphire to a fae eye could cause blindness. Actually, I think I own a particularly sharp princess-cut ruby ring that could do some damage if one were to turn it toward her palm before a slap."

"Mama!" Penelope keeled over with laughter as Elain winked, happy to have brought her daughter from the insecure cinnamon roll slump. "Tetya Nesta would scream if she heard your fighting methods."

Elain tutted. "Not all of us can be Valkyries, my dear. Now let's get going." She shooed her daughter away with a warm smile, gathering the cinnamon roll pan into a basket and pulling her grey veil off the marble counter as they exited the kitchen.

It was all lies and fiction of course— Elain didn't think she could talk back to a rude sister-in-law, let alone fight one. She bit down on her lip. Hopefully, Penelope would have more Archeron in her than Elain seemed to have.