“Can I ask where we are going? I promised the Prince that I would meet him here this morning.”
She looked at me. I almost flinched under her stare. “Oh, did you? Well pardon me, but King Dalior has given me direct orders to take you this morning so I am afraid the Prince is going to have to wait. King Dalior feels that until you prove yourself as a shifter you are going to be working in the kitchens every morning to earn your keep. Each morning you are to make your own way to the kitchens. Alone. I will be in contact with the staff to keep me informed of your timekeeping.”
My lack of response must have pleased her. She smiled at me, one that did not fit her face nor reach her eyes. “Anything wrong with that? Any complaints you would like me to pass back onto the King?”
“No not at all, in fact, I would love to help. My only request—which by the way, thank you for asking me if I had any, so so nice of you—is that I do hope I can encourage you to change your mind about escorting me each morning…” I paused, allowing my statement to sink in like the tip of a knife before I sunk it in to the hilt. “I’ve not enjoyed company like this since I was placed on duty at the morgue back in Horith.” There goes the hilt.
The Commanders face morphed before my very eyes. I watched her neck blotch with red patches, a single blue vein visibly pulsing on her forehead. I tried not to laugh as she made her attempt to compose herself, fists clenched when she moved for the stairway. My smile didn’t falter; I almost wished Fadine was there to watch. I knew it would be something she would enjoy.
The Commander didn’t address me the entire walk, nor did I question her again. I thought it best to leave her.
***
THE KITCHEN WAS huge, a common theme for most rooms in the palace. The smell was the first thing I noticed, the air thick with steaming meats and boiling oats. My stomach clenched in sudden hunger, my mouth began to water as I watched food being prepared from the doorway. The Commander had pushed me forward inside of the kitchen and left without giving me any instructions. I just stood awkwardly, watching elves dressed in white garments bustle past, each ignoring my presence. I attempted to step forward, but jumped backwards when one elf almost bumped straight into me. I could hear the grumble of insults as she passed me, the many pots she balanced in her arms rattling around.
I took a step back, hoping if I edged towards the door I could leave without anyone noticing. My back slammed into something hard, the door. I reached back with my hand and grasped for the handle. Beneath my touch it felt a lot softer then I would imagine it to be.
“Oi!” someone squeaked behind me. “You’d think you’d keep your wits about you whilst trying to escape this hell hole. If I have to cut carrots, you’ll have to as well.”
The girl I’d bumped into was familiar, her sharp nose and freckled face was one I was sure I’d seen the morning before. She too was dressed in the whites of the staff; her long ginger hair tucked behind her pointed ears was concealed beneath the tall hat that sat askew on her head.
“I wasn’t trying to leave, I was just…”
“Nyah.” She extended a freckled hand towards me, “And you don’t need to lie to me.” She tapped the temples of her head and smiled. “I’m glad to see another familiar face, you can help us.”
“Zacriah,” I replied, taking her hand. “And what do you mean another familiar face?” I asked, looking around the room again and noticing a few other faces that I recognized beneath oversized hats.
“I know who you are,” she replied, her grip strong as she squeezed my hand. “Seems like all of us in Rank Clarak have been told to work the kitchens. Most of us don’t mind though, the leftovers are worth it.”
I pulled my hand from hers and rubbed away the ache from her grip. “Sorry about that. It’s not usually what happens when I first meet someone, promise.” I felt the need to apologize.
“Forget about it!” Her laugh was odd, but nice. It reminded me of a woodpecker, loud and shrill.
“You know, you are going to get pretty hot in those,” she said, her eyes glancing to my outfit, “If you don’t fancy smelling like stock and onions for the rest of the day, I suggest you go through those doors and change into something not so… tight.” She pointed to a door at the other end of the room. “Don’t expect anything too fancy though, the choices are not the most flattering.”
I didn’t have to be told twice, the heat was already getting to me. I could feel my skin dampening under the heavy, warm air. I walked over to the doors, dodging others as they rushed around the stations, shouting for peeled potatoes or scrambled eggs. Nyah was behind me still, directing me forward.
The room we entered had towering shelving units on either side, each covered in mixture of clothes and pans. Nyah closed the door behind us and looked me up and down before passing me a set of white clothes from the shelf. She was much taller than me, more than a foot in height. She was built incredibly, muscles everywhere. As I took the set from her hands I noticed her bulging forearm. She handed me a pile and turned away, crossing her strong arms.
“I promise I won’t peak.”
I laughed, already feeling completely at ease by her presence. It was a strange feeling, I could feel like trickle in the back of my mind the moment I touched her. She oozed with positivity.
I peeled the training attire off, placing it on an empty shelf and changed into a loose fitting set that Nyah had passed to me. I toyed with the idea of leaving the tall hat, but decided against it. I didn’t want to stand out any more than I already had.
***
ONCE CHANGED, NYAH pulled me back into the kitchen towards a station in a less busy area. Only a few other elves stood around us, the rhythmical thud of knifes against wood matching the smashing clangs of pots and pans. Nyah picked up two knives, the blades weathered and dull. She passed one to me, and kept the other for herself. We began, slowly making our way through the never-ending pile of carrots before us.
“I wasn’t joking about the carrot chopping,” she said. It was hard to keep up with her speed and technique, it was clear from the way she held the knife and the fluid movement of her wrists that she was well versed with them.
“I can see that,” I replied, my hand already stiff.
“You know everyone is talking about what happened with you yesterday,” she said. “But I’m already sure you know that.”
“I’ve heard.” I’d also noted the number of glances I’d gained myself already in the kitchens alone.
“I wouldn’t worry about what they say. People talk, I know that well enough.”
“And what are they saying?” I asked, unsure if I wanted to know, but curiosity got the best of me.
“That your shift is weak.” I had to commend her honesty. “But it could be worse, right? My shift is a moth and Makrus over there is a worm. Literally, a worm. It can’t be much worse than that.”