Malyn instructed, gesturing with her chin at the nearby servants. Then she caught her own reflection in a copper kettle hanging on the kitchen wall and noticed her own expression – harsh, with an arrogant tilt of her chin. It was as if she’d gotten used to giving orders. With a wry smile to herself, she dismissed the others.

“You can get back to your work now.”

Though they bowed and backed away, she knew the servants were sneaking glances as they turned. Ignoring them, Malyn took the straw from the maid, who returned with an armful, and threw it into the fire pit, where the flames crackled eagerly.

“Keep adding until I say stop.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It was common knowledge in the castle that the Queen of Veldam liked to take on tasks usually left to servants. However, the maid adding straw to the fire looked unusually tense. As Malyn glanced over, she remembered that this girl had only recently joined the palace staff, and her nervousness was evident in her trembling hands. Normally, only maids with some pride or experience were assigned to the Queen’s service – not those unaccustomed to such duties or the thought of performing them. Malyn stifled a mischievous smile.

“How much longer should I keep adding, Your Majesty?”

“That’s enough.”

At Malyn’s command, the maid jumped back, clearly intimidated by the flames that flared each time she added straw. Malyn scoffed lightly and scraped the bottom of the iron pot with the end of a wooden ladle, watching as a faint layer of soot formed at the top. Satisfied, she took the tea leaves the other maid had brought and shook them into the pot. A small cloud of smoke rose.

Steam suddenly rose.

“Oh dear!”

The maids jumped back in surprise, but Malyn, unfazed, quickly stirred the pot with her ladle.

“Add more straw.”

The maid, on the verge of tears, quickly approached and tossed more straw in. Malyn frowned.

“Keep adding it. The fire mustn’t weaken.”

Although it had been ages since she’d done anything like kitchen work, her hands moved with practiced skill. Strangely, her skills seemed as sharp as ever.

Living as a thief hadn’t dulled her. Even as a maid, forced to sleep on the balcony of the inn, she would shout her complaints in the kitchen when they tried to serve inedible food. She’d scold them for wasting perfectly good potatoes and radishes, for playing with food.

The innkeeper, who had angrily shouted, “Why don’t you do it yourself?” and thrown the ladle at her, had fallen silent after tasting the quick potato stew she’d made. The stableman, who had come to watch the maid being scolded, smacked his lips in appreciation after taking a bite of her stew.

It wasn’t long before Malyn was the one preparing every meal at the inn, which only housed the innkeeper, himself and the stableboy. Soon, guests began to pay for meals at the inn, a place that had previously only provided a place to sleep. The girl who once slept on the balcony now had the luxury of resting by the inn’s fireplace. Occasionally, as she had to get up early, she would secretly roast leftover grain. In the morning she’d boil water for the horses while the king slept. A sip of water with a handful of roasted grain was enough to keep her going. In time, she even managed to roast the grains without burning them.

If only that damned innkeeper hadn’t lifted her skirt…

Malyn stopped herself from thinking any further. The reason the leaves were spotted was that she’d roasted them as if they were chicken legs, swirling them constantly in the iron pot over a high flame. The tea leaves glistened, curling up and shrinking from the heat. Taking the thick oven mitts from the head cook, she scooped up the tea leaves just as the quick-witted maid brought over a wooden tray.

“Let them cool, then try brewing tea with these again.”

The tea, brewed by the maid a second time, tasted delightful. Another maid who tasted it first gasped in admiration.

“Oh my, there’s no bitterness!”

Only the head cook’s face turned red, almost as if he’d been scolded in front of the queen for wasting precious tea leaves. Malyn threw the gloves back at the chef and said, “I can’t be bothered any more.

When King Veldam still wore a mask, he wouldn’t even cut his own meat in front of others. No matter how much effort went into preparing the meal, it was pointless because the king wouldn’t eat. What skills could the servants learn under a king who only drank wine? He’d scream and kill those who tried to learn, making their lives unbearable.

Of course, the king’s removal of his mask hadn’t brought about any significant change. Neither the king nor the queen enjoyed long meals, and lavish meals were almost unheard of in Veldam. The queen’s breakfast consisted of nothing more than a piece of bread, some cheese and ale, which spoke volumes. Malyn knew better than anyone that there was no need to master such frivolous skills.

“Food always tastes best when someone else makes it. When I make it, it tastes like horse feed.”

The old cook, who had taken back the gloves, looked at her with tear-filled eyes at those words. As he opened his mouth to reply, Malyn turned and left the kitchen abruptly.

“Standing by the fire is enough to make anyone sweat to death.”

“Well, that’s the way kitchens are. Though really, Your Majesty, you didn’t have to…”

“I was just too restless, that’s all!” she snapped, her tone irritated as she walked. The maid looked at her cautiously and spoke carefully.

“If you need something to pass the time, perhaps you could take up that embroidery you started some time ago?”

“How much more perfectly good fabric do you expect me to waste?”

“Waste, Your Majesty? The King really liked the handkerchief you embroidered.”

A small laugh escaped her lips. Fond, he was.

‘What a beautiful flame. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘That’s supposed to be an apple.’

‘A beautiful apple, then!’

‘Give it back.’

Malyn’s lips twitched slightly at the memory of the absurd conversation not long ago. In the end, after a bit of back and forth, the piece of cloth – whether it was a handkerchief or a rag was anyone’s guess – ended up back in Malyn’s drawer.

A cough interrupted Malyn’s thoughts. It came from one of the young maids following her down the corridor. Earlier, the girl had been sweating as she threw straw into the fire, and it seemed she had accidentally inhaled some ash. Looking at her now, Malyn noticed a smudge of soot on her face.

“You’ve been through a lot because of this ridiculous task.”

She said hesitantly. The maid looked even more puzzled.

“P-please forgive me.”

She replied and bowed her head. Malyn’s eyebrows knitted. Her attempt at an apology must have sounded like a scolding.

Malyn bit her lip. She’d tried to curb her habit of speaking sharply, but it seemed that natural tendencies were not so easily changed. Or perhaps…

“Raise your head. I’m not angry.”

“My apologies…”

No matter what words or tones the superiors used, the lower ranks often misinterpreted their intentions.

“Enough.”

Malyn waved her hand dismissively and continued down the corridor. Through an open window she caught a glimpse of the courtyard. The young colt the princess had ridden earlier was being brushed in front of the stables. Neither the princess nor her maids were in sight.

Malyn’s eyes wandered to the roof of the stable. The thatch was full of holes, clearly in need of repair. Frankly, the people of Veldam were far too careless with their thatch. If it were up to her, she’d make sure it was done meticulously…

“Damn it.”

She muttered in frustration, a curse slipping out before she could stop herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the maids flinch. Pretending not to see, she rubbed her forehead, only to see the scar on her fingertip. Covering her hand with the wide sleeve of her robe, she walked purposefully away.

She didn’t want to think about anything.