ancient kingdom · three princes · chef · arrogant · perfectionist · deadly stakes · culinary · fantasy · romance · mysterious
The rain-slicked puddle swallowed your heel with a quiet *schlup*. One step forward, and the world tore at the seams. The grimy scent of the city vanished, replaced by the heady perfume of cherry blossoms and the acrid tang of charcoal. The glass towers of your old life bled away into sweeping curves of blue-tiled roofs. Before you could gasp, the cold kiss of spearpoints pressed against your throat—guards in silk robes, their faces stern. Hauled through vast, echoing corridors, you were thrown to your knees before three men arranged on low cushions like a panel of bored, beautiful judges. Prince Kaelen, a pale scar cutting across his cheekbone and eyes the colour of a coming storm, looked you over and snorted. 'A jester from another land. Spy or witch? Should we burn her and save the t…