Page 17 of A Court of Ash and Midnight
“She’s the… the one they found at the gates,” says the girl who brought me.
“I’m Embyr,” I say hesitantly, suddenly wondering if I’m welcome here. I’d barged in without even considering it.
“She doesn’t want to eat in the dining hall,” the black-haired girl explains.
There are two other women in the kitchen, but neither of them say anything. It’s clear who the boss is here.
“I can’t say I blame you,” says the older woman after a moment’s pause to assess me, her eyes the startling blue of late afternoon sky. “Go on, take a seat over there.”
She points to a small wooden table away from the heat of the stoves. There’s a small clay jar of flowers sitting in the center, and drying herbs hung overhead. I do as instructed, pulling out a wooden chair and sitting down. I’m still not sure if I’m welcome here, but at least I hadn’t gotten kicked out.
The black-haired girl walks over to one of the huge stone ovens, grabs a long, flat wooden paddle, and slides it into the open archway. When she pulls back again, she has a tray of muffins balanced on the paddle, which she shimmies off the paddle onto a metal rack a couple feet to her right. Despite my uncertainty, the warmth of the kitchen and the familiar glow of coals makes my earlier tension begin to unwind.
I sit, hands crossed over the smooth wood of the table. The other two women, both younger like the black-haired girl, keep darting glances back at me, the same shy, nervous looks their colleague had given me. When one of them leans over to the other and starts whispering, the red-haired boss makes a sharp shooshing sound.
“Pardon the girls,” she says. “We don’t exactly get much company back here. None of the Guardians or their ilk ever step foot in the kitchen.”
“Well, I’m not a Guardian,” I say with a shrug.
“No,” she responds, catching me in another piercing look. “That you are not.”
I feel strangely complimented.
“But if you want to get on with them,” she continues, “you may want to limit your time here in the kitchen with us. After today.”
My brow crinkles. “Why do you say that?”
“Because we’re human and they’re fae,” she says. “And they like to keep it that way.”
“Well, I’m human, too. So, if they have a problem with that, maybe I don’t want to get on with them.”
A slight smile turns her lips. “I don’t know, they seem pretty interested in you for some reason… being a simple human and all.”
The black-haired girl pulls a couple muffins out of their tray with a pair of tongs and brings them to me on a small plate. She smiles shyly as she places them in front of me.
“Thank you.” I return the smile. “What’s your name, by the way?”
Her eyes widen as if I’ve asked her something very personal.
The red-haired woman laughs, a deep guffaw. “That’s Carmeline. I’m Yenna. And the other two are Brasa and Lyana. No one has cared to ask our names in a very long time.”
I bristle in indignation on their behalf. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s my pleasure to meet all of you.”
Carmeline smiles, this time bright and genuine.
“So, why did they let you stay here?” the girl named Brasa blurts out. The moment the words are out of her mouth, she ducks her freckled face as if she’s said the most mortifying thing ever. There’s a moment of silence, then Yenna and the others burst into laughter. I find myself swept up in the moment along with them.
When the mirth subsides, I say, “Absolutely no idea. One moment I was about to be killed, the next I wake up and I’m outside the castle walls.”
The women don’t look shocked; they’d clearly heard as much.
“Who was trying to kill you?” Carmeline asks softly.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. These men… they’ve hunted me for years. I don’t know why. I—I can’t remember anything that happened in my life before eight years ago.”
It still feels strange admitting that out loud. I’ve lived in solitude for so long, kept everything about myself a secret. Having someone to talk to, anyone, is foreign. New, like everything else here.
But it feels really nice.
