The frozen heart

Chapter 3: The Kitchen Chronicles

Chapter 3: The Kitchen Chronicles

Anne had always considered herself a fairly capable person. She had a job, paid her bills, and managed to survive life in the big city. But none of that had prepared her for the whirlwind that was the castle's kitchen. It was pure chaos—pots clanging, steam hissing, and people darting back and forth with trays piled high with vegetables, meat, and bread.

And here she was, plopped in the middle of it, with a very large knife and an even larger pile of carrots to chop. Anne's fingers were already sore, her arms were aching, and she was pretty sure she had cut at least one carrot in half with the dull side of the knife.

"This is a nightmare," she muttered under her breath as she struggled to keep up with the relentless pace. She glanced around at the other kitchen maids, who all seemed to be working with the ease and precision of seasoned professionals. How they managed to keep their cool in this madness was beyond her.

In the middle of it all was the head cook, who had to be the angriest woman Anne had ever met. The cook's voice cut through the air like a whip, barking orders and shouting at anyone who wasn't moving fast enough.

"You! Carrot girl!" the cook shouted, her eyes landing squarely on Anne. "Those carrots won't chop themselves, will they? Move it!"

Anne flinched, nearly dropping her knife. "Right! Sorry!" she blurted, focusing intently on her pile of orange vegetables.

But her hands weren't cooperating. The knife slipped awkwardly in her grip, and instead of slicing cleanly through the next carrot, it skidded sideways and sent a whole carrot shooting across the counter like a tiny missile. It sailed through the air, bounced off the edge of a large pot, and landed with a loud thunk on the stone floor.

Anne winced, praying no one had noticed.

"Oh dear gods, not again," she muttered under her breath. But of course, someone had noticed.

A sharp laugh erupted from one of the maids nearby, a girl with bright red hair and a wicked grin. "You'll be getting an award for worst aim at this rate," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Anne's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm not usually this terrible, I swear," she mumbled, though she wasn't sure if anyone believed her at this point.

The red-haired girl nudged her in the ribs, still grinning. "Don't worry. If you drop anything else, we can start a new sport: vegetable bowling."

Anne managed a weak smile. "Right. I'll stick to chopping for now, thanks."

The ridiculousness of it all started to sink in. Here she was, a perfectly normal woman from the 21st century, chopping vegetables in a medieval castle kitchen like some sort of twisted time-traveling Cinderella. And she wasn't even good at it. It was so absurd that she had to bite back a laugh, despite the chaos around her.

The clatter of the kitchen carried on, a blur of activity and noise. Somehow, in the midst of it all, Anne found a strange rhythm. She wasn't fast, and she wasn't efficient, but at least she stopped sending vegetables flying across the room. That was progress, right?

"Careful with that knife, love," another maid piped up from beside her, an older woman with kind eyes. "We've already had two accidents this week, and the head cook will throw a fit if there's another one."

"I'll do my best," Anne said with a sheepish smile. "Though at this rate, I might need an armored helmet."

The older woman chuckled. "You're doing fine, dear. Just keep your head down, and don't let the cook get to you."