Who Doesn’t Love Pie?

Emma~

Orion walks with me back towards the mansion when I stop and ask him why he’s never shown me the group house before, the one where all these people must live. Sure, I’m absolutely shattered and could do with a lie-down, but my curiosity is getting the better of me. I don’t even know where most of these people came from this morning, and isn’t that the sort of thing I should know? If I’m to stay here, it would be nice to have access to people that aren’t… well, aren’t Orion.

The people out there training today didn’t look like the evil mafia described in Derek’s stories, and I want to see more to judge for myself. I’ve seen enough to know what Orion’s like, but is it fair to paint them with the same blood-colored brush? It’s not their fault who their leader is.

Thankfully, he agrees to show me without much of a fight, and we make our way slowly over.

The house is beautiful when it comes into view, the front is made almost entirely out of glass, and scenes of children running happily fill the whole garden in front of it. If I hadn’t just forced this visit, I’d wonder if he’d had it staged, it seems so perfect.

When we enter, I ignore the gestures of respect and take in the main room filled with bright furniture and signs of life. Children’s pictures fill the walls, toys are dotted around all over, and adults are sitting down and chatting happily. It’s lovely and nothing like the gloomy mansion Orion’s keeping us in. I’d far sooner live here.

I didn’t even know there were actually families around.

“Wait ’till I show you the kitchen.” Orion seems excited, and I’d forgotten how much I’d told him about my passion for it the night I escaped. It’s nice that he remembered and hasn’t used it against me yet.

Walking slowly behind him, my jaw drops open as I see a kitchen filled with life. I love it!

The cupboards are painted a beautiful emerald green, and the place is filled with various species of plants. The countertops are all white marble, and what I love the most is that the fridge is covered in magnets and more paintings.

It’s as if one massive family lives here, and it reminds me of my childhood home when my mother was still around.

“What do you think? A bit loud, isn’t it.” He pulls a face as if to say he knows it is, but I shake my head. “It’s perfect. The louder the better.”

We’re both suddenly aware of the fact that this is the first compliment I’ve given to him on something I haven’t brought about myself. I think it means a lot to him because he’s actually quiet for a moment, and I don’t like how awkward this feels.

“Can I use it?” I ask to deflect, eyeing the mixer on the countertop and feeling suddenly inspired to bake a pie. Who doesn’t love a pie at this time of year?

“You’re my future wife, you can do what you please.” He shrugs, and I narrow my eyes, waiting for the catch. What happened to ‘You can cook for only you and me’, that was the same man, right?

“Was it me that you were worried about having brain damage?” I joke as a way to bring up the change in opinion, maybe this way it won’t start up an argument.

I don’t have the energy for another one just yet.

“I’ve had some time to think, Emma, seven days to be precise, and I’ll try to be better.” He says, and the honesty radiating through his voice throws me.

I don’t know what I could possibly say to that, and before I have to come up with something, he leaves me to it.

***

I end up making quite a few pies, and I do it with some help.

I’m not the type of person to accept a lot of help, and that’s putting it lightly. But when some of the children I didn’t even know existed a few hours before came in from smelling my caramelized apples, well, they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Some went out to collect brambles and strawberries for another while the rest stayed in to decorate the top of the sheets for me. I have to say, there are some pretty interesting designs sitting on the counter right now.

We have five apple pies, three berries, two strawberries, and six minced for a savory option. I’ve been at this for hours now, and I honestly don’t know where they get the energy from.

It’s not until we reach what would be back home’s dinner time that it clicks that I’m using their kitchen, who’s making the dinner? I ask the child closest to me, a little brown-haired girl called Megan, and she just laughs.

“Emma, you’re silly!” She giggles, which has me laughing too, though I don’t know why. “We have our own kitchens upstairs... and bathrooms too!”

I knew this place was big, but wow, that’s pretty cool. Even if there are only little kitchenettes their parents can work from, it’ll give them the independence we didn’t really have back in my place.

“Why is Emma silly, Megan?” We both jump up at the sound of Orion’s voice behind us, but the look on his face isn’t angry.

Good, I’d not have allowed him to discipline the child for that, and I’m surprised he’s not said something more. Given all the scraping and bowing he has his people doing, I’d not put chastising a child past him.

“She doesn’t know about our kitchens,” Megan informs him as if it’s something ridiculous, and he plays along.

“Well, that is silly indeed. How could she not know that?”

He comes over and lifts her off the counter beside me and tells her and the rest of the kids to run along to collect their parents. It’s time to eat Miss Emma’s food, apparently.

Even if he pulls a face when saying the term ‘Miss’.

“And who said you’re having a slice?” I ask as he goes towards one of the minced ones.

“Considering I fund the ingredients, I’d say I’m entitled to some.” He raises an eyebrow at me, but I only shrug.

I was joking anyway, and I don’t really care who eats them. It was just nice to bake again and make some little friends in a place that feels so foreign to me.

“You better cut it properly though,” I warn him when handing over the serving knife.

But when I do, there’s a look on his face that makes me glad for the sudden influx of children, and I’m lucky that I can blame the heat of the kitchen for the flush on my face.