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“I would like to help today if I can,” I finish, my voice wavering.

“Have you any kitchen experience?” Vanya asks. She frowns deeply, looking unimpressed.

“Uh…” I step forward as another chef comes barrelling behind me with a large casket of something thick and pink. “I have helped my aunt cook.”

Truthfully, we have not cooked together in many years. When I was young, food was plentiful in Mossgarde and Aunt Meena taught me recipes from her birth town, Caldercruix. But now, most people survived on whatever they could find, oftentimes the fruit from low-hanging trees or edible reeds. I think of the food I have eaten so far in the castle and wince.

“But I have not had much experience in cooking the kind of food served here,” I clarify before swallowing hard at the sight of Vanya’s face.

“Is our food not good enough?” she thunders.

“N-Not at all,” I stammer, wishing desperately that I could fall into a hole in the ground. Most who know me would not describe me as a timid person, but Vanya makes me feel as though I am being scolded by my mother.

“Vanya,” Inez gently interrupts. “Shivani is a Never…”

Her eyes flicker to me briefly.

“She was volunteered here. For the curse,” she finishes eventually. Vanya’s face immediately softens.

“She is not the werewolf noble?”

I look between the two of them, confused.

“What werewolf noble?” I ask.

“No, she is from Mossgarde,” Inez continues, looking as confused me. “Her father…put her forward.”

“I see,” Vanya says quietly. The pity is unbearable and shame burns my cheeks. “And you wish to…assist us?”

“Yes. Please. I cannot stay in my chambers any longer.” The truth slips out of me, either through the heat of the kitchen or the relentless gaze of Vanya. She stares at me a moment longer before raising her hands. She claps once, sharply. The rest of the kitchen staff stop immediately.

“Eliza! William!” Vanya barks. Two young servants rush over. “Miss Shivani will be assisting us today. Please show her where to clean up.”

Without another glance, Vanya turns back to her task. Her fingers nimbly arrange small pastries with snowberries buried inside. I let Eliza and Willian lead me to a large sink where we can wash our hands with chilly water and plain soap.

“My apologies, but I do not have much experience,” I admit to them as we wash the suds off our fingers. “The food my Aunt taught me to cook is quite different to here.”

“Do not fret, miss,” Eliza tells me. Her smile is bright and earnest. There is a small gap between her front teeth, endearing me immediately. There is a sudden thickness in my throat at knowing she has spent her whole life in this castle. “Vanya will teach you well. She may look mean, but…well, you will see.”

We meet Vanya at the pastry station, where she assigns us our tasks. I am set to kneading and rolling the dough into layers so thin you can almost see through them. I tear the dough the first several times and wipe the sweat from my brow irritably, but Eliza is right—Vanya is surprisingly patient with me. Soon, I roll the dough with ease and pass it on to the next station.

Vanya does not speak much as we work. Her face remains pinched with concentration and I enjoy the quiet between us. The kitchen is alive with more people than I have seen in weeks. The time goes by quickly until dinner is served to the prince in the king’s absence.

Servants cart away lines of food the staff worked throughout the day to produce, moving in organised waves until the kitchen is empty. Only then do we sit to eat ourselves.

Vanya dishes out small plates of thedinner we made. We dine on slow-cooked croca and roasted lard potatoes, perching on stools and balancing our plates on our laps. I look around at everyone laughing and eating and trading gossip. I find myself on the brink of tears but keep them at bay. I turn to Vanya instead.

“Thank you for allowing me in here today,” I tell her. “It has been a welcome distraction indeed.”

“I am glad of it,” she replies simply.

“We have enjoyed your company, miss,” Eliza pipes up, her cheeks full of potatoes.

“As I have enjoyed yours. It is…well, I always preferred the company of books to people, but I suppose we all need some connection. And I…” To my horror, my voice begins to break. My vision blurs with tears.

“It is alright, miss.” Eliza pats the back of my hand. “You have a heavy burden on your head.”

“Exactly,” William chimes in. “The curse is monstrous. But if anyone can break it, it will be you. I am sure of it.”