Martyred Soul

Chapter 11

Surprisingly, the castle is pretty bustling around this time of night…or morning.

            I suppose this is how it goes, though, when millions of things have to be done before the king wakes…wherever he may be….

            I follow Simeon to the dining hall, but we continue to the door the servers come out of during meals. Simeon pushes through the door and we walk into madness.

            Tens, hundreds of people flurry around, preparing food, unloading food, storing food. And this is not even the main kitchen.

            All workers wear white coats and clear gloves.

            Nobody takes notices of us, except for the girl who brought out my food the first morning. Shiloh, I believe. Already, her chestnut hair is falling out of its bun.

            I wonder if that is a health hazard.

            She hurries up to us, flour streaking her face. “Prince Simeon! I did not know you were up.” She takes in his bruises. “What happened to you?” She eyes me carefully, like I, at any moment, might brag a spatula and smash all the eggs with it…

            Not a bad idea.

            I bet it is a great stress reliever.

            I bounce on the balls of my feet. “Do you have a spatula?”

            She glares at me, her suspicions confirmed. “Yes, but you are not authorized to use it.” She turns back to Simeon. “Sim, if you want breakfast, I am sure that we can whip something up.” 

            “Oh, no, Shiloh. It’s okay. We actually came here for ice.” He points to his eye.

            “Right!” She turns on her heel. “We have tons, just follow me.”

            As we walk through the kitchen, I take notice of everything going on around me.

            No one is idle. Everyone has a specific job.

            I kind of like it.

            We turn down an isle between ovens and sinks, and I am mesmerized by all the knives on the wall.

            I guess that may sound a little disturbing to some like Shiloh, but there are just so many. Wicked knives for gutting fish, knives for steak, cutting off chicken heads, cutting off legs from deer, chopping vegetables, and so many other specific jobs.

            Talk about bloody blades! If I had me some of these…

            Simeon elbows my side, and we stop. Shiloh stops too, staring at us.

            Simeon glares at me and shakes his head. “No.”

            I cross my arms. “Come on, just one.”

            “You are going to kill someone! Or at least chop off a finger!”

            Shiloh’s eyes go wide. I snort.

            “I am being serious here, Burelle. You without a sharp knife are lethal enough. How do I know that you will not use it as a weapon?”

            I feel like stomping my feet. “I am not going to kill anyone. Assassin’s promise.” I hold up my hand. “Besides, I do not kill innocent people. The only person I would kill in this castle is the king. But you are not permitting me.”