So, just as she had in her childhood, Adeline mucked in with the quick young porters, and Marie soon grew tired of reminding her it was no job for a princess.
Adeline enjoyed the work, loved the rhythmic lull of the knife on a wooden board and the puzzle of matching the right herb to whichever sauce she was stirring. She was also in the best position to sneak fresh bread rolls from the oven when they were still hot and ever so slightly doughy in the middle.
The kitchen was unseasonably warm for early Winter, and the doors and windows were open all day to let the heat out and air in. The scents and steams from Marie’s cooking enticed hungry staff from all over, and though Marie grumbled and tutted, she usually fed them in exchange for whatever tidbit or story they brought from their own part of the palace. Adeline usually made sure to work in a quiet nook, or keep her face turned toward the stove to avoid being noticed, aware that the gossip would come to a swift stop if anyone realised the royal company they kept.
Such outrageous gossip it was, too.
According to a local footman, the Countess he served–a married cousin of the Queen’s–had been seen cosying in the hay with a Palace stable hand some ten years her junior. A baby-faced Gard had told, in awed tones, how one of his brothers on late night sentry had been regularly abandoning his post to enjoy the frenzy and frivolity of a notorious alehouse, and then sneaking back, eyes glazed, in the small hours of the morning. Adeline thought this sounded suspiciously like Ger, but when probed he had nothing to offer but a shrug and a coy smirk. He also didn’t invite her to said alehouse, which was really quite rude.
But just that morning, they heard the strangest tale yet from Jack, one of their own kitchen porters on his return from the market.
Before his own eyes, he said, a young merchant had come tearing across the lake in a panic and collided with a neighbouring stall. As the merchants pitched in to clear the damage, the terrified woman had told them all how she had returned from her morning prayers at the Shrine, when the patch of lake before her began to crack and crumble and a great dark creature climbed from the ice.
The kitchen erupted in laughter and sighs, many rolling their eyes or wishing the poor confused soul well. But Adeline’s bones had turned to stone.
A crack in the ice.
Hadn’t Edward and the Wielders fixed it? Shivering, she craned her head around the nook where she sat peeling potatoes.
“What sort of creature?” She called to Jack. Though her voice was hoarse, it carried, and some of the laughter died as a knot of soldiers and one chambermaid noticed her. Some started in their seats and others simply stared. The maid gaped at the potato in Adeline’s hand. The kitchen staff, however, were well used to the princess by now, and Jack grinned easily as he turned to face her.
“A monster, Your Highness.” He pulled a grotesque face and lifted his arms above his head, curling his hands into claws. “A great shaggy thing with blue skin and deep gashes at its throat. She said it looked like a walking corpse.”
Marie flicked a cloth at the boy’s head, and he hissed in pain and dropped his arms. “Enough of that nonsense, you’ll fill her head with nightmares. Pay no mind to these silly whisperings, Princess!”
Adeline forced a laugh. “Marie, really! Of course I won’t. Walking corpse indeed.”
Marie narrowed her eyes, but seemed satisfied enough to continue her work after another quick scowl at Jack. He was still rubbing his head, and scowled right back at her.
As the mealtime conversation continued–haltingly now, with nervous eyes watching her–Adeline’s thoughts stayed with the lake. A crack in the ice was, she now knew, not so far-fetched. Unheard of to the best of her knowledge, but obviously it could happen,hadhappened. Was this their doing, hers and Mareda’s? Edward had sworn it was mended. And the crack they’d seen was in the centre of the ice, nowhere near the Shrine. No. A coincidence then. A crack in the ice one day, a trick of the light the next – a frightened woman with a sharp imagination.
But even so.
Adeline dug her nails tight into the raw potato in her hand. By the time it was peeled and washed, she had decided. When she finished with the peeling, she would take her leave. She had already planned to find Ger and invite him to the Queen’s Village for lunch, so what harm was a short detour?
To the lake.
To the place where she and Mareda had seen that black chasm.
Just to check.
But when she set down the knife and wiped her hands on her apron, she turned to find Marie watching her with folded arms.
“You look troubled.”
“I’m not,” Adeline said, too quickly.
The cook gave a stiff smile.
“Well and good, then. I need a hand.” She beckoned Adeline to the counter, where there sat a small tray bearing broth and thickly buttered bread. “I thought you might deliver your mother her lunch today, since you’re so eager to help.”
Adeline looked to Jack, who usually delivered the Queen’s meals. He met Adeline’s look with a shrug, but Marie said; “I need Jack elsewhere today. Besides, you’ll want to see that your mother is eating well I’m sure? Getting her strength up?”
Adeline fought the twitch of her eyebrow; it seemed highly unlikely that after tutting and sighing to the point of breathlessness, Marie had suddenly changed her mind and decided to give Adeline some real work to do - but she knew better than to say so. She took the tray, and Marie guided her to the door. As Adeline manoeuvred into the hall, the cook leaned through the doorway and spoke under her breath.
“You forget I’ve known you your whole life, Miss. I know you can’t help your curiosity, but you’re a clever young woman. Too clever to go chasing after silly ghost stories, wouldn’t you say?”
She turned back into the kitchen, and left Adeline scowling at the closed door.
