“You dare to defy a general of the Court of Salt?”
Shit.
I knew he was important—his clothes were a dead giveaway—too much silk and embroidery compared to our plain smocks. But I didn’t know he was a general. What was a general doing in the kitchens?
But when I took in Mishah’s panic-stricken face, saw the sheen of sweat on her upper lip, I knew I had to stand my ground. “I’m sorry, sir,” I tried stammering, but I wasn’t very good at appearing contrite.
What did Safiyya do when she wanted men to piss off and leave her alone? I remembered belatedly something she’d told me once when she’d conned her way out of an arrest by a Citadel soldier.
You’ll never believe how fast men will run away from you when you start crying.
I pinched the inside of my arm and started blubbing as best as I could. “I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t know you were the general! Please, sir, don’t tell cook. I’m new here.”
I got more enthusiastic with my wailing when he immediately contemplated me with disgust.
But at least he wasn’t looking at Ramishah anymore.
Finally, he gave her a long stare, made a scoffing sound, and left us, giving me a final withering glance before he went.
“Thank you so much!” Ramishah threw her arms around my neck after he’d left.
“Who was that?”
“Just who he said he was.”
“You’re kidding. The general of the Viceroy’s army?”
Ramisha nodded. “The high general. He can do whatever he wants, no one ever stops him. He wins all the Viceroy’s battles for him. He abuses his power and often punishes those he deems lesser than him. Even children. Once, a boy brought him his dinner cold, and he burning the boy’s skin with a poker from the fire.”
“By the River,” I whispered into the empty kitchen. It reminded me of the Citadel soldiers branding those who had led the rebellion as traitors.
The stink of burnt flesh had filled the bazaar. My father had been among them.
I shook the thought from my head and focused on comforting Mishah, who looked as though she were going to pass out from relief.
“What did the general want with you?”
She huffed out a breath and made a disgusted face. Something churned in my gut at her expression.
“I was in his private rooms bringing his dinner. He was suspicious and began questioning me about the kitchen staff. With the rebels constantly attacking the palace, he’s very afraid of poison, probably because his own magic creates poison with a touch. He would obviously be the one they’d target if they wanted to hit back at the Viceroy.”
I raised my brows at that.
“Not that I would poison him,” she rushed to say.
I burst out laughing. “It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re safe.”
She gave me a grateful smile. “Because of you.”
I wrapped my arms around her in a hug, thankful that I had at least found one ally in this world where beasts roamed the woods and magic poured like water from fingertips. But as I embraced her, I couldn’t help thinking of the general’s last glance toward us, certain in the knowledge that he would be back.
* * *
The day the Viceroy finally arrived, every fae in the palace was panicking. When I arrived at the kitchens Zafreen assigned me triple the work to do. While I cleaned out the fire and washed pots, a feast was being prepared in the Viceroy’s honor.
That evening, my shoulders were so sore I could barely make it to my room, let alone scour the castle for clues to the ancient Queen’s crown, but I knew I wouldn’t have many more opportunities like this, especially if security tightened after the Viceroy was back.
It was easier to move around unnoticed in a kitchen smock, especially with the influx of people busy with the Viceroy’s feast. Everyone was running around as if the River was on fire, and there seemed to be double the population in the palace. It meant that no one really noticed if I was wandering around the halls, rifling through libraries and papers.
