Chapter 20: The Offer

Edda's kitchen smelled of bacon, bread and wet wool.

There were twenty people in it, and none of them had been invited.

The cook stood at the stove with a ladle in one hand, correcting Edda's gravy.

Two laundry women sat at the long table folding napkins for no reason except that their hands wanted work.

A boy of nine was under the table with a puppy he had been told to give back.

I came down at seven with Elias on my hip, still half asleep, my hair in a sloppy braid and my feet bare on the flagstones.

"Sit," said Edda, without looking round. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I wasn't asking."

I sat.

A plate arrived in front of me, and I ate everything on it.

The cook leaned over my shoulder and tucked a spoon of honey into the baby's mouth when she thought no one was looking.

"Oh, he is a fine lump," she told the room. "Look at those cheeks."

"Don't feed him honey," I said. "He's two weeks old."

"He'll live."

Ronan walked in at that moment, and the room did its usual thing and went quiet.

He wore his plain work coat and no crown, and there was flour on his sleeve.

He stood just inside the door looking at the whole noisy kitchen, the stove and the napkins, and the puppy, and the baby on my hip.

"Majesty," said the cook, with a curtsy that would have shamed a duchess. "Breakfast?"

"Thank you."

"Sit down, then. You're too tall to stand."

He sat.

It took a moment for me to realize he hadn't looked at anyone but me.

Edda cleared her throat, took her pipe, and began herding people out of the room.

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