Chapter 38
Dionne
The kitchen was chaos by six o'clock.
Pots clanging. Someone barking orders over the sizzle of meat. Margaret moving between the prep stations like a woman fighting a war she'd already lost, her face shining with sweat and her patience thinner than the sliced fennel laid out on the counter in front of me.
I kept my head down and focused on my task of arranging the garnish on each plate. Since Margaret had announced Aubrey's dinner with a few invited nobles, that had been the goal. Become invisible.
It was working, too. Had been working all day, actually. After my weird encounter this morning in the King's chambers, I'd spent every hour making myself as small as possible.
"You're shaking," Hannah said flatly, not looking up from the sauce she was stirring. Her voice was low enough that only I could hear it under the kitchen noise.
