"Your Majesty, the servants can handle such a chore," Albus said, watching the Queen carefully as she stirred the pot.
"Albus," Mabel replied with a soft smile, "I have never truly been a mother to Gabriel. Now is my chance. Cooking for him is no burden." She ladled a small portion of chicken soup into a tiny bowl, tasting it.
Albus shifted uneasily, lowering his voice. "Prince Gabriel is not easily pleased. Her Majesty may have to endure... harsh words from her own son."
Mabel’s smile wavered, but her voice remained steady. "I understand. I was harsh on him too. For a long time, I was the cause of his misery." She set the ladle aside and looked into the pot, her eyes clouding with regret. "But, Albus... no matter how many times Gabriel says he doesn’t want a mother in his life, he always finds his way back to me when the world becomes too heavy. He is as stubborn and hot-headed as I am, but in the end, he is still my child. And I will win his heart, even if it takes a lifetime."
Albus had no words to counter her conviction. Before he could speak again, his gaze flicked toward the doorway. Gabriel had entered, his presence instantly commanding the room. Everyone bowed.
Mabel froze, her hand still on the ladle, eyes following her son.
"I need water in my room," Gabriel said curtly to one of the maids. He turned to leave, but his head tilted just enough to glance at his mother. His voice was edged with disdain. "The kitchen never suited you. I hope you’re not preparing dinner for me or Amelie. Because we won’t eat it."
He turned sharply to go, but stopped when he noticed Amelie standing at the entrance, an empty glass jar cradled in her hands.
Her gentle gaze met his. "Why must you take your anger out on food?" she asked softly, stepping forward. "Don’t you know? The food made by a mother’s hands is always the most delicious."
She handed the jar to a maid to be filled.
"I asked you to stay in the room," Gabriel murmured, his voice low as he closed the distance between them.
"You forgot to carry the jar," Amelie replied calmly. Then, turning her gaze toward the Queen, she added with a polite smile, "I’ll help you, Your Majesty. I love cooking."
Gabriel’s hand slipped around hers. He leaned close, his breath brushing her ear. "You shouldn’t trust her," he whispered.
Mabel’s voice broke the heavy silence. "Amelie, please... just rest. Dinner will be ready soon. I’ll send a maid to call you both once it’s prepared."
Amelie’s eyes lifted to the Queen’s, and for the briefest moment, she caught the unspoken plea in them. So, she didn’t press about helping the Queen and staying in the kitchen.
The maid had already filled the jar. Gabriel took it from her with a curt nod before leading Amelie out of the kitchen.
Once they entered their room. "You don’t have to get close to my mother," he said. "I’ve told you before. Why do you forget so easily? Don’t you care about me?"
Gabriel shook his head. "I’m not thirsty."
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