A Whisper of Night

20.3 || ZALYNE 🔥

The kitchens were hopelessly huge.

Zalyne knew Paezdek Hall had been made for a lord with a stomach larger than his mind, but she hadn't expected the kitchens to outsize the dining hall, antechamber, and living chambers combined.

Now, she was lost.

She stumbled past a series of sizzling pans and cursing chefs, panic pounding at her chest. If she didn't find the exit soon, she'd die. But Vespira needs me to run first. She needs me to leave.

But what if she underestimates the amount of time it'd take me to escape? What if her plan fails, and I don't manage to get a horse or -

But Vespira's life - and her mother's - were at stake, too. If Zalyne were caught, Vespira would be killed for treason.

But she told you - she's dead no matter what she does. In that sense, she truly has nothing to lose....

"Excuse me," she said to one of the chefs, "excuse me, but - do you know where the back exits are?"

The chef raised an eyebrow. "Which one?" she said coarsely, her arms wrapped around a barrel of potatoes. "Just keep going, and you'll find somethin'. Now out of my way, girl."

Curse you. Zalyne backed against the wall, breathing heavily. Perhaps she could pose as a chef or a serving girl. If she stayed in the kitchens, she could buy herself more time....

It'd take longer to disguise yourself. Just find the package and run!

"The musician's here!" came a shout. "Get the rum ready...."

Zalyne ducked past a chef carrying a pot of soup and kept going, following the twists and turns of the kitchen. And then a blast of cold air hit her - she was close to an exit! She was close!

She broke into a run. Please, she pleaded to whatever deity was listening. Please, just let me escape - just let me get to Queen Astnorden -

She reached the back. A rack of bags and coats leaned against the doorway, shuddering slightly in the rain. Zalyne's eyes raked desperately over the fabrics - there! - she grabbed a sack with a blue ribbon and slung it over her shoulder, wincing as it hit the side of the door -

"Out of the way, out of the way!"

She barely ducked aside as a procession of women emerged from the door, all carrying piles of food. Great heavens, how much food is this feast going to take?!

She peaked out the door again. The rain was now pounding at the earth, howling like a newborn demon. And then her heart sank as she took in the line of guards outside...at least half a dozen, spears in their hands, bows over their shoulders (although she suspected that firing straight would be a jawdropping accomplishment in this weather).

She would have to find another exit. Zalyne glanced along the wall futilely - there was no other door. Perhaps the other side....

"Hey, you! Carry this out!"

She spun around.

A red-faced chef pointed towards a bowl of soup, bits of hair sticking out from under her chef's hat.

"I can't - I don't work - "

"Who do you think you are?" the chef growled. "Carry the goddamn soup!"

Helplessly, Zalyne glanced around. No - don't make a scene. Just get the soup out and find a way to escape.

She bent down and took the handles. Thankfully, the pot wasn't too hot. The soup inside seemed to be made of cream and chicken and corn. A few other servants were carrying their own platters of food out - she followed, her head bent -