The frozen heart

Chapter 6: Whispers in the Kitchen

Chapter 6: Whispers in the Kitchen

The life in the kitchen carried on in its usual chaotic rhythm. Days turned into a blur of chopping, boiling, and serving as Anne slowly adapted to her new reality. Though she wasn't the most talented kitchen maid, she managed to avoid major disasters, much to the relief of the head cook.

Still, the castle was a strange place, filled with bustling servants, haughty nobles, and whispers of secrets she didn't fully understand. The world she had been sucked into wasn't just any ordinary medieval setting—it was full of an underlying tension, as if something dark and dangerous was lurking just out of sight.

Anne hadn't had much time to dwell on the book itself, or why she had been pulled into this story. But every night, when she collapsed into her small, rough bed in the servants' quarters, her thoughts would inevitably drift back to the story she had been reading before falling asleep. The villain, the castle, the cursed boy—all of it seemed like a twisted fairy tale. And now, she was a part of it.

Later that evening, after the kitchen had quieted down and the last of the dishes had been scrubbed clean, Anne found herself sitting around the hearth with the other maids. The warm glow of the fire cast flickering shadows on the stone walls, and the air was filled with the faint scent of simmering herbs.

The maids were chatting in low voices, their laughter and gossip filling the otherwise still night. Anne had kept mostly to herself since arriving in this strange world, trying to blend in and not draw too much attention. But tonight, she had questions—questions that had been weighing on her mind ever since she'd saw the boy in the pantry.

Maris has already gone to bed, too tired from today's stressful day. So, Anne's chance of getting answers to the questions was all the greater.

She knew she had to be careful. The last thing she wanted was to seem too curious or out of place. But if she was going to understand what was really happening in this world, she needed answers. And the maids were the best source of information she had.

Anne glanced around the group, searching for an opening in the conversation. After a few moments, she leaned toward the maid sitting closest to her—Lydia, a round-faced woman in her late twenties who was always eager to share the latest gossip.

"Lydia," Anne began, keeping her voice casual, "I've been hearing some strange rumors around the castle. About a boy... with white hair. Do you know anything about him?"

Lydia's cheerful expression faltered for a moment, and she exchanged a glance with the maid sitting beside her, a younger girl named Maren. Both women seemed to tense slightly at the mention of the boy.

"Ah, the cursed one," Lydia muttered, her voice lowering. "Best not talk about him too much, Anne. It's bad luck."

Anne's heart skipped a beat. She had expected some resistance, but she pressed on. "Why do people call him cursed? What did he do?"

Maren shuddered and drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "He didn't do anything, really. It's more what he is. That boy... He's trouble."

Anne tried to keep her expression neutral, though her stomach twisted in knots. "What do you mean by 'what he is?"

Lydia leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "His hair and those eyes of his—they're not natural. His father was a nobleman, but when Kaiden was born, he came out with white hair and those icy blue eyes. People say it's a sign of the curse. His mother didn't survive the birth, and the nobleman abandoned him, left him to fend for himself."

Maren nodded solemnly. "A cursed child, they called him. Some say his mother's death was his doing. That he was born with dark magic in him, and that's why the nobleman wanted nothing to do with him."