They arrived in the kitchens half an hour ter. The stink of boiling fish sauce was the first thing he noticed as he entered. He hurried past the pot throwing up those fumes and onward down a line full of shining metal cookware and wooden counters where cooks furiously chopped vegetables and hammered steaks so thin he could almost see the cutting board through them.

  Two servants worked a slicer in the far corner. One cranked a hand wheel so hard his arms blurred together while the other pushed a frozen hunk of meat through, picked up the thin disk that fell out of the bottom and set it on a pte already loaded down with identical disks of the same stuff—bass judging by the dingy pink-brown striations in the meat.

  Still other cooks prepared sauces, floated thin steaks in hot oil, pressed pntains ft against the countertop-like surface of a monstrous, wood-fire grill. Salt flew from hands in huge quantities and everyone seemed to have a jar of seeded citrus fruits of one kind or another on hand. He noticed a whole, dark-fleshed bird rotating on a spit. A tray collected the drippings rolling out of its skin and funneled them into a cy pot.

  He breezed past the chefs, calling his pockets as he navigated the line in search of Mistress Dina. He tried not to draw too much attention to himself, but several of the cooks greeted him as he passed. Ben was a favorite, it seemed, and when they arrived at the Mistress’s post, it was to find a subtle leer on her lips.

  Mistress Dina watched her charges with the same predatory gaze she had favored Lance with when he shadowed under her. The look of her could crush boulders into dust all by itself.

  Lance slowed when he saw her, and approached like a prey animal unsure of what it was confronting, even as Ben moved past him to greet her. He csped his hands behind his back as he closed in on her, and bowed.

  “Honor to you, Mistress Dina.” Ben said. “Lady Therien said you would have duties for us.”

  Mistress Dina held out her hand, but her gaze was not focused on him. She panned over everything in the kitchen, everyone. Lance pressed forward, guilt boiling through his intestines. He fished his badge out of his pocket and pced it in her upturned palm.

  “Don’t you dare, fuck head!” she snapped. Lance whipped around as one of her charges—a boy a little older than him with light brown hair and oily, broken skin—snapped to attention. He shifted the pot he had been stirring to a position far from the round burner at the center of his grill. “That’s better. Low and slow to the finish. If you fuck it up, I’ll have you in the corner with a dunce cap and a kazoo to py with your ass cheeks until service ends, you hear me?”

  “Yes, Mistress Dina.” The boy said meekly.

  He was suddenly certain he had chosen right by not pursuing this path.

  She examined the badge.

  “Duties for the queen eh?” she said, her gaze shifting from one to the other of them. “I bet you’re excited. Probably think you’re something special.” She shoved the badge at his chest. He scrambled to catch it before it dropped.

  The barest, most malevolent grin broke across her lips. Her eyes fshed ominously. “You best not fuck it up. The queen is merciless, and if you embarrass her…well.

  “Do as you are told. Mind her boundaries. Do not break decorum, even for a second. And for the love of all that is sacred, don’t speak unless she asks you to.”

  Lance suddenly felt like he would rather be anywhere else. He did not waste time on questions.

  “Grapes!” Mistress Dina shouted. “Cheese and crackers! Now!”

  Lance flinched at the tone of her voice. Two cooks sprang into action, hurriedly pting an assortment of cheeses and other accoutrements for the queen’s consumption and bundling them into two ptter with wooden lids carved over with thorny vines and snapdragons. They brought the ptes to him as quickly as they could without outright running.

  He took one from them. Ben took the other.

  They saluted Mistress Dina, who observed them as if they were worms wriggling atop dry earth. They retreated.

  “Take the stairs. Wait for your bell to ring. It will ring once to draw your attention. Again to alert you that it is your time. Do nothing until the second bell sounds. Then hurry, but don’t appear to be rushing. Kneel to the queen’s hand. Do not look at her. Do not touch her. Do not ask questions if she commands you to do something. You are the dirt beneath her feet. Bile in her throat. An unpleasant reminder of how her pleasantries come to her. Act like it.”

  “Understood, Mistress Dina.” They said in unison.

  “Smart boys.” She said. “Now get out of my sight.”

  They hurried off, mindful of the trays so that they didn’t shift overmuch as they navigated the treacherous line on their way back through the kitchens.