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Mary smirked. “If this is the sort of muck they were producing, it’s no wonder they got taken over.

What a bunch of fools. This is a mess. Chuck it and start over.

” She flicked a bit of rosemary sprigs from the platter.

“We are serving the empress and knights, in case you forgot. I wouldn’t serve the scullery maids with this rubbish.

It looks hardly cooked.” Mary gave a loud laugh.

“And you even tried to hide it with rosemary. I half-expect the fish to jump and try to swim away.”

A few half-hearted laughs responded to this.

“Now wait—” Bronwyn said.

“No, you shut your mouth and listen.” Mary stood in her face, her light-blue eyes full of malice.

She smelled like sweat and bad breath. “You see here? This is wrong, all wrong. You cannot serve Her Grace a piece of barely cooked fish and expect her to like it. I don’t know where you learned to cook, but this is poor work, and I won’t have them thinking I allowed this out of my kitchen when we can do better.

When I tell you to get rid of it, I mean it. ”

Bronwyn’s blood began to rise.

Mary’s mouth gave a nasty curl as she flicked the dish off the worktable and onto the ground. It, of course, landed face down, so the meal now lay in the dirt.

Mary snickered. “You can’t serve that now. Throw it out and start again, like I said. Unless you’ve got something to say?”

Bronwyn’s mouth withered. Any retort she had died on her lips. She wanted to speak up but didn’t dare. She fumed, her eyes wet and her cheeks flaming. She shook her head.

“And before you think of having a word with the ladies-in-waiting, I’ll have you know that I have the ear of Lady Morwenna Banbury, the empress’s favorite. I’ve known her for years. And they always enjoy, nay love , my little rosewater treats. You know what that means?”

Bronwyn met her eyes. “What?”

“One complaint from me and you’re out of here.

See who takes you on then. You can’t contribute, so you’ll be kicked out of the camp.

You’ll either freeze to death, starve, or be forced to make your way on your back and clean the latrines, if it wasn’t thanks to my generosity in letting you work here.

Now get out. I don’t want to see your face here again unless it’s to clean up this God-forsaken mess.

” Mary pointed, and Bronwyn bit her lip and knelt to pick up the overturned fish, her cheeks flaming.

She cleaned up the mess, conscious that Mary’s feet hadn’t moved.

The woman stood there, barely two feet away, watching as she cleaned.

Never mind that they had to cook for hundreds of people, and there were some poor wretches out there who didn’t care how pretty the fish looked.

Mary had wasted good food, and with much of the river having frozen over, fresh fish was hard to come by.

She hated Mary’s treatment of her. Even the sight of Mary’s muddy shoes filled her with annoyance.

And she didn’t dare look up, as she knew that Mary was standing there, watching.

Making sure Bronwyn did as she was told.

It was humiliating, but Mary’s words sent a chill through her.

If she were kicked out, she’d beg Lady Alice to take her on as a servant, or Lady Susanna—she seemed nice.

She’d walk to the nearest village or town and offer to work, doing washing, cleaning, baking, anything she could.

She’d run away and take her chances back in Lincoln rather than stay here.

Mary smirked again. “See what happens when sloth and laziness take hold? It’s like a sickness.

” She turned to the tent at large. “Don’t let me catch any of you being lazy or not following orders around here; otherwise, you’ll end up like her.

And believe me, none of you wants to be like Bronwyn.

” She laughed again and walked away. “Now what are you doing, Eloise? Burning something, from the smell of it.”

Her face hot, Bronwyn slowly picked up the platter, taking the bits of cooked fish and rosemary from the ground.

It had been meant to be a pleasant morning dish for the ladies-in-waiting, but never mind.

She disposed of the food, tossing it outside to where cats and dogs would fight over it, and set the platter aside.

She went to fill a bucket from the river and took her time filling it.

Mary was nothing but a bully who seemed to take pleasure in belittling her fellow cooks.

But her snide laughter and jibes had set a standard of behavior in the cooking tent, and the bullies were in power.

Bronwyn hated it and wondered about just walking away.

But where would she go, and what could she do?

Could she really set out on her own? She could ask Lady Alice for help, but seeing her fawn over Rupert all day and night made her sick to her stomach.

Maybe not Lady Alice. But then if she asked Lady Susanna for work, that might hurt Lady Alice’s feelings.

And she certainly couldn’t ask Lady Morwenna.

As she stood outside the cooking tents, she overheard Mary say, “God, that Bronwyn winds me up. Everything she does ‘for the empress this’ and ‘for my Lady Alice’ that. She is such a horrible nuisance and yet we have to tolerate her sticking her nose in the air and acting like she’s God’s gift to the kitchen, all because the empress likes her bread rolls.

I bet I could cook them just as well and Her Grace would never know the difference. She might even like mine better.”

Bronwyn’s spirits plummeted. Her sweetened bread rolls were a recipe her father had taught her, and they had been enjoyed by Queen Matilda and Empress Maud alike. She’d never imagined she’d be so disliked.

“You should do it, Mary, and prove it to Her Grace that Bronwyn is no better than the rest of us. She’ll be sure to kick her out then,” one cook said.

“Aye, I should. And then where will she be? If she’s not sniveling in a corner and begging me on her knees to keep her, she’ll be sulking and scrubbing pots, like she’s better than the work. It’s good, honest work we do and you don’t see us complaining.”

“Don’t matter. Women like that can always get by on their beauty,” said a woman. “And with her pretty face, Bronwyn’ll be some man’s bedfellow in no time.”

Bronwyn clapped a hand to her mouth.

“Did you hear something?” someone inside the tent asked.

“No. You really think she’ll stoop to being some man’s slut?” Mary asked.

“Sure as the sun rises, I’m sure. There’re a lot of men who would pay for a young woman like that to keep their bed warm.”

Bronwyn’s blood ran cold as the cooks laughed at her expense. Her heart sank and her shoulders slumped. Maybe her fish dish truly had been terrible. Maybe Mary was right, and she really was just an average cook at best.

But the horror and fear of being kicked out of the cooking tents chilled her, and she decided to stay out of Mary’s way as much as possible.

She was learning when to pick her fights and while defending herself might lead to her feeling respect for herself in the situation, it might also land her exiled with nowhere to go.

Except for Lady Alice, where she’d face her and Rupert’s romance constantly.

She sighed. Would that she had a home to return to, but that was gone.

So she had nothing, and no one. Only herself that she could trust.

Bronwyn swallowed as she returned to the cooking tents.

Seeing her, Mary ordered her to scrub pots for the rest of the day and turn the spit of the roasting animals. It was hot, sweaty work, but Bronwyn went to it without a word.

After the noonday luncheon, Bronwyn slipped away in search of Mabel. She had to warn her, and now that the other cooks were busy, this was the perfect time. She hastened toward the ladies-in-waiting tent and found Mabel inside, rummaging through Lady Morwenna’s things.

“What do you want?” Mabel asked, barely sparing Bronwyn a glance. “Got your lady quieted down, I see. Was it that cloak of hers she’s got now? She’s acting like it’s some holy relic, practically. Not that it suits her.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Bronwyn began. Her palms began to sweat. How to tell someone their life may be in danger?

“What is it?” Mabel looked at her with narrowed eyes.

“I heard a rumor that the crown was taken.”

Mabel laughed. “Is that all? I heard it too. Lady Morwenna told me. But she thinks your mistress had something to do with that.” She put a hand on her hip. “Did she? Are you going to turn her in to the empress’s guards?”

“No. I’m not,” Bronwyn said. At Mabel’s raised eyebrows, she added, “I mean, she didn’t take it. She didn’t do anything.”

“Oh. Then why are you here? Your mistress need something?”

“I heard that someone’s looking for the crown, and they think you might know where it is.”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “Me? Why would I know anything about a crown missing?”

Bronwyn shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just what I heard.”

“From who?”

“I can’t remember. One of the maids, I think.” She looked away.

“It’ll be Joan, I bet. She’s always been jealous of me. If she thinks she can steal my position and become the favorite, she’s dead wrong.” Mabel’s teeth clenched.

“It might not have been Joan. I can’t remember who said it.”

“Well, never mind. If someone’s got a bone to pick with me, I’ll let ’em have it.” Mabel hoisted a pile of dirty laundry in her arms. “Anyway, I’m too busy to steal a crown. Lady Morwenna wants her dresses and bedding washed constantly. Fleas.” She shook her head.

“You’re not afraid?”

“No. It’s probably just the maids trying to stir up trouble. No one would suspect me. What would I do with a crown?” She laughed. “I’m off.”

Bronwyn moved aside to let her pass. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“Sure, sure. But no one in their right mind would suspect me. It’s not like I’d go around wearing it.” She walked off.