The kitchens smelled of fat and smoke even at this hour.
I didn't walk all the way in. After the first few times I had done it, I got tired of the side looks from the staff.
But even with me just outside the doors, the cooks still froze anyway, their ladles suspended, and their knives hovering mid-stroke over cabbages. They were used to princes and ministers coming for orders, not me.
"I need something sweet," I said.
One boy stammered, "Sweet—?"
"Rice boiled with honey. Fruit if it's ripe enough. Anything candied that won't break teeth." My tone was clipped, and I could see them scrambling in their minds for which jars they'd hidden behind the vinegar.
A woman bowed so quickly her forehead nearly hit the cutting block. "At once."
I didn't stay to watch. I knew how fast a kitchen could move when death was the alternative.
By the time I returned to the east chamber, two trays had followed on the arms of terrified apprentices.
