Reining Red

Chapter Two

The day seemed even darker than they usually do, and that day was a Sunday. Amelia scoffed at the irony as she ploughed her way through piles and piles of never ending clothes, the castle just as busy as ever.

"Girl!" The Chef's voice boomed, causing the hairs to rise on Amelia's skinny arms. The Chef had taken to calling her 'girl', as if her actual name seemed too ridiculous for her lips. Amelia wondered whether this was the reason why everyone referred to the chef as The Chef, because she couldn't stand the sound of her own name.

"Girl! Today is Sunday! What are you doing? Get out of here! Enjoy the sun! Get outside! Take the day off! Buy me some pepper!"

Amelia dropped the magnolia gown she was washing and turned to face her boss. "Really?" She asked in disbelief.

"Of course! Go! Get out!"

Amelia untied her apron and ran through the kitchen. She jumped over girls who had fallen over and avoided greasy puddles of who knows what. She longed to taste the air that had not been garnished with pepper or kitchen steam, so she ran faster than she knew she could.

At the door she drew a long, black cape from a peg and threw the little wooden entrance open. The air smelt fresher than she could remember, for windows were non-existent in the palace kitchens. She ran into the courtyard and let the wind's teasing hands curl through her red locks. A gardener tended to golden bushes with white roses and pearly lilies with a scent stronger than anything Amelia had smelt. It was marvellously sweet yet not over powering. She fled from the palace gates, her wages of gold coins safely in a leather bag tied to her hip.

As it was a Sunday, all the merchants were packing their goods away from the Saturday market. Amelia strolled down the aisles lined with strange looking men and women, storing away their tents and bedrolls, attaching donkeys and horses to their carts that carried their goods.

To her surprise, one stall was still standing; a midnight blue tent with gold embroidery, and an old wooden board propped out front with sloppy, red writing reading "open".

Amelia grasped her money bag and popped inside.

The tent was round and smelt of incense. Chipped wooden tables lined the sides, packed with small trinkets and jars. Amelia wondered between them, checking the prices on the labels as she went. Ten shillings and six pence for a jar of dried apricots? She thought not; she barely earned a shilling a week.

"My oh my, aren't you a skinny one?" Amelia whipped around to find an old looking hag standing in the corner, apparently to have appeared from no where. She strode forward with surprisingly fast paces and grabbed Amelia's wrist.

"Lookie, so small and pale!" She cooed. "My oh my, what red hair! Like a demon! Like hell fire itself!"

Amelia backed away, snatching her arm back from the old woman. "I'm sorry, I must be on my way."

"Now, now! Come back, have come tea and cake!" The hag exclaimed.

Amelia paused at the exit. Cake did sound terribly enticing, especially when she had been living off The Chef's peppery soup all week. She stepped forward shyly.

"There's a good girly, take a seat, right there," Amelia perched nervously on the end of a rickety wooden stool. The hag clicked her fingers, and a small table whizzed over from the other side of the room, laden with Victoria sponges and French fancies.

"You're magic!" Amelia whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. She grasped a French fancy and laid it on her china plate.

"I am indeed!" Laughed the hag as she sat down opposite her. "And you are hungry, are you not?"