“I brought back coin from Allys,” Robin said, cutting Ilida off. She lifted the whole bread roll to her mouth and bit it softly enough that she could hold it up with her teeth to free one hand. “Here,” she mumbled through the bread roll as she held out a small handful of coins.
Ilida took them from her, counting through them easily. Robin could see the disappointment in her steward’s face, but the woman held back any further negative words. “And the tonic?” she asked.
Robin switched the bowl of soup to her other hand so she could access her other pocket.
Ian, still standing next to them as Willa had taken his place at the pot of stew, reached out and took the roll from her teeth.
“Thank you,” Robin said. After fishing the small glass bottle from her pocket, she held it out to Ilida.
“Good.” Ilida slipped the bottle into her apron pocket. “Her parents will be so relieved.” She turned to Ian. “I need to give these coins to Bernard.”
Ian nodded, seeming to understand the woman’s unspoken words. “I will help Willa with the stew.” Ilida was gone before he had finished talking. Turning back to Robin, he held out the bread roll he had taken from her, a smirk on his face.
Robin accepted the roll in her now-empty hand and shook her head at him in disbelief. Somehow, he understood her very efficient and anxious steward. Clearly his princely responsibilities had taught him how to work well with people who were under pressure. Or perhaps that was just his older brother instincts. Regardless of where it came from, she appreciated his strength in this area.
With a nod, Ian returned to the serving table.
Cradling the bowl of hot stew to her chest, Robin breathed against its warmth and made her way out of the crowded hall. Ulli, Lane, and Rigelt were probably at their usual fire outback. And she wanted nothing more than to sit at her favorite stump, just far enough from the warm flames, and sink into the comforting smell of smoke and pine.
Claspingthe green cloak around her shoulders, Robin slipped into the ever-busy palace kitchen. In the midst of the bustle, no one even noticed her entrance. She smiled.
Even though she’d known every single person at her old home in Lockwood, she’d felt far more free to come and go as she pleased there. Living at the castle under the guardianship of King Frederich made her feel constantly...watched. Not that anyone in particular was looking at her every movement, rather that she never felt able to breathe comfortably. To fully relax.
So she’d discovered the joy of wearing an indistinct cloak and slipping through the kitchen to grab a hot bun before sneaking to the stables to spend time with Humphrey.
Ian, the king’s eldest son, had discovered her favorite hiding place and often sought her out there.
But she didn’t mind when Ian joined her. She could breathe comfortably with him.
In the busy kitchen, Robin lifted the corner of a linen cloth, reaching her hand into a basket of warm bread rolls.
“Tsk,” a voice said harshly, and someone slapped her hand when she drew it out of the basket. “Those are for supper.”
Robin instinctively pulled her hand back, but she refused to drop the roll.
“Oh it’s you, dear,” the cook said, noticing Robin’s face. “That old cloak makes you look like a goose girl still. Take whatever you need.”
Robin smiled wordlessly. No one noticed a goose girl.
Except for Ian. The sides of her mouth twitched as her grin grew wider.
She ducked her head and turned to leave the kitchen.
As her eyes scanned the room, searching for an open route to the door that led outside, she noticed a singular spot of stillness. Against the far wall, a young kitchen maid sat at a small table. Her eyes flickered up, catching Robin’s at exactly that moment.
Robin froze. Her shoulders tensed, and her stomach tightened.
The girl, Lind, was slightly older than Robin’s fourteen years. Once, very recently, Robin had thought they were friends. Lind had served as Robin’s lady-in-waiting at Lockwood Manor, but it was such a small community that they had grown up together and been close friends.
The previous season, however, Lord and Lady Lockwood had caught a deadly disease. Robin and Lind had traveled to the palace—her new home, since King Frederich was her guardian. In the chaos of those few months, Lind had betrayed Robin, attempting to take her place as adopted princess.
Her duplicity had been discovered, and King Frederich had ordered her to serve in his kitchens for a year. He had also ordered that Lind be fed nothing but turnip mash.
The kitchen maid was holding a spoon halfway to her mouth. Her hand paused as she held Robin’s gaze. Then her nose wrinkled in disgust, and she turned away from the food, dropping the spoon back into the wooden bowl on the table. She twisted her shoulders away from Robin, breaking their brief contact.
Robin took a step toward the door. Lind was no longer her friend. No longer a threat. No longer her responsibility.
Moving toward the door, Robin blinked, her eyes still tracking Lind even as she expertly avoided colliding with another kitchen worker carrying a large stack of earthenware dishes.
