II

BELLA

30 June 2351

Nouveau Stockholm, The United Republic of Nye Europa

Maman smelled of spiced pears and vanilla. She said they were scents she knew as a young girl, when she was still a traveler. Bella had never known the smell anywhere but in Maman's hug. Pears had long ago died out, as had vanilla once cheaper, artificial versions flooded the markets.

Bella never knew how Maman managed to smell of such old things, but it was one of her signature charms.

Maman had quite a few charms up her sleeves.

That morning, Bella woke to the scent of something so decadent, so mouthwatering, she rose from sleep without complaint. In the bunk beside her, her younger brother, Lucas, was stirring as well.

She glanced at him without saying anything, and selfishly wanting whatever the delicious scent was to herself, she left their shared room without helping him down, even though he was only three years old.

Maman wasn't in the sitting room where Bella expected her to be. She frowned, finding the smell coming from the kitchen. She'd never seen actual food prepared here—the family ate the pre-made meals that were delivered to them, just like everyone else in their neighborhood.

But there was Maman, a streak of white dust across her cheek, sweat upon her brow as she pulled a tray out of the oven.

"Bella." Maman's voice was a song, especially when she said Bella's name. Bella loved the roll of her maman's letters as her French roots came forward on her name. "I hope you're hungry," she said, a wide grin across her young-looking face.

"What are you doing?" Bella asked, creeping closer to the counter where the incredible smell was coming from.

"I've made us an old recipe," Maman said, one hand coming to rest on her daughter's small head. "Gâteau St. Honoré," she said, motioning to the golden buns wafting the heavenly scent on the counter. "It was a dish I used to love."

Bella's mouth watered.

"What is it made of?" she asked, impressed that such a big bright scent could come from such small, delicate looking morsels.

"Many, many layers," Maman said. "In the old days, they used wheat."

Bella looked at her, curious. "Quoi?"

"Wheat," Maman said, running a hand over Bella's head again before moving it to her own very swollen belly. "It was one of the plants we lost in La Grande Famine."

Bella shuddered, looking back at the pastries. The Great Famine had taken out one-third of the world's population and one-third of the plants the human race had relied on for centuries. It was before Bella was born, but she had heard many tales about it already, even at seven years old.

"What is this made of?" she asked Maman, leaning away from the counter to look at her mother.

Maman smiled. "Wheat, ma belle fille," she said with a soft laugh. "It is my secret stash." She tapped her nose and Bella smiled, charmed.

The sound of her brother's footsteps made it to the kitchen, and when Pappa had finally joined them, they all sat down and Maman served us her special treats.

None of them had ever tasted anything like it. Hot, sweet, delicate, complex … it tasted like the thoughts Bella had about her maman.

"Bella," Maman said after their plates were licked clean. "Get dressed. We must start your lesson early today."

Bella's good mood soured some. While Lucas was given permission to go out and play with the other children in their community, Bella was forced to stay inside and study.

She hated it.

"Maman," she started, her voice turning into a whine.

"Non, Bella. You must train every day." Maman's voice was firm, and Bella sank in her chair, her eyes flickering toward Pappa.

Her pappa was a kind man. His people had hailed from Sweden many generations ago, and though he'd only lived in this present here and now, he held a remarkable patience for Maman who had lived countless lifetimes and had known the world in so many forms.

"Pappa," Bella whined. "Can't I come with you and Lucas?" They were headed for the shuttle yard today and Bella wanted nothing more than to go with them.

"Non," Maman said before Pappa could be swayed. "We must train, Bella."

Bella felt her heart sink, felt her young petulance kick in. Pappa reached across the table, his large hand landing on Bella's little one.

"One day, Sötaminn, you're going to be grateful to your maman for these lessons," he said wisely.

Bella shook her head. "No," she argued. "I shan't."

Maman and Pappa both laughed.

"That will of yours," Maman chastised. "It'll be a blessing and a curse for you one day, mark my words."