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Then the person had killed Lady Eleanor with a garrote and stowed it away in Sir Robert of Gloucester’s saddlebags, to possibly be found later.

That seemed like a calculated move, for if the person had wanted to dispose of the garrote, they could have easily dropped it in a ditch somewhere long before that day.

They must have had reason to want to discredit Sir Robert, but what?

The only reason she could think of was that he had the empress’s ear, and by discrediting him in her eyes, that would leave the avenue open for another person to gain prominence in her circle of advisors.

She was returning from the privy, her eyes on the stone walls, when a familiar set of ladylike slippered feet matched her pace. Bronwyn looked up.

Lady Alice said, “Come with me.” She took Bronwyn’s hand and led her into a small alcove.

It was only a small area, cut away into the stone, that offered a place to stand by a slim window, but it offered a scant bit of privacy.

The view of Gloucester an impressive sight, even from the narrow window. But Lady Alice wasn’t minding the view.

Lady Alice said, “Lady Morwenna has been telling tales. At first I didn’t believe it, but…

… she seeks to make me believe that Rupert likes you, and you like him.

This is nothing more than childish japes, of course.

I told her it’s a load of nonsense, but she laughs and is like a viper.

Tell me, is there any truth to her words? ”

Bronwyn met her gaze. Lady Alice bit her nails, then caught herself doing it and brushed down her skirts, plucking at stray lint that wasn’t there. Her jet-black hair hung loose and lovely around her shoulders, and her expression was alert and wary.

“I care for him,” Bronwyn finally said.

“I know. You are good friends. He told me so himself.”

Bronwyn swallowed. “And you two are…”

“We made up over our little squabble.” She stepped closer.

“Bronwyn. I know he and I are of different worlds apart, but I… like him. I care for him too, but not just as a friend, like you do. And I don’t want him getting the wrong idea.

The very thought of you two together is laughable.

A squire, well on his way to becoming a knight, and a kitchen maid? The idea is ridiculous.”

Bronwyn’s mouth opened, but the words she wanted to say died on her tongue. She closed her mouth again. She felt cowed, and hurt, and even more alone. “I thought you wanted to talk to me in private so we could be friends again.”

“I couldn’t be friends with someone whom I can’t trust. No, I’m simply letting you know that we are together again, and I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about him. Rupert and I are together, and that’s that.”

Bronwyn walked away.

“Don’t walk away from me. Come back,” Lady Alice called, but Bronwyn had had enough. She’d stepped into the alcove, wanting to find her friend again. Instead, she’d been met with distrust and insults. She’d figure this mystery out on her own. Maybe she didn’t need friends, after all.

That didn’t stop Lady Alice, however. The next day, Lady Alice sent for her specifically, to deliver a set of pastries to her in the castle courtyard. Bronwyn went, plate in hand, to find Rupert and Lady Alice kissing on a bench, Lady Alice’s hands in his reddish-golden hair.

The roll Bronwyn had munched on her way there felt like ash on her tongue. She stood by, feeling useless, then set the plate down on the ground beside the bench. They could help themselves. She wasn’t going to stand there watching. Just being there pained her.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Lady Alice said, smiling. Her cheeks were rosy and her skirts were in slight disarray as she entwined her hand with Rupert’s.

He grinned at her, his hair mussed, then blinked at Bronwyn. “You brought rolls?”

“Lady Alice ordered them.”

“Why bring them yourself? Surely, a page could’ve done it.”

Bronwyn raised an eyebrow at Lady Alice, who giggled. “Thank you, Bronwyn. That will be all.” Her aristocratic tone was so clipped and overly formal, Bronwyn couldn’t stand it. She walked away, fuming the entire time back to the kitchen.

As she passed by, Bronwyn spotted some of the other ladies giggling at the scene.

Her cheeks turned pink. She’d not only had to witness Rupert and Lady Alice kissing in a public space, but her humiliation at being ordered around had been seen by others.

For once, she wished for a bit of privacy, or that the earth might swallow her up, just for a few moments.

But soon it was nearing the end of May, and she was no closer to figuring out who was behind the deaths. She felt stumped. She wanted to talk to Rupert, Theobold, or even Lady Alice, but felt they were all too involved with their romances to spare time to see her.

Theobold had avoided her since he’d returned, and when she did see him, Lady Morwenna was not far away.

Soon, Bronwyn took to avoiding him and instead welcomed her time in the kitchens.

It was different each day. She learned new things about cooking, cleaning, and food preparation, and it kept her busy for hours at a time.

Part of her mind gave her a treacherous thought.

She could just forget about it all. The mystery of Lady Eleanor’s, Sir Edward’s, and Mabel’s deaths could just fade away like a bad dream.

There was enough to be getting on with, after all, what with the empress’s plan to go to London.

But the plot to poison Empress Maud’s crown bothered her and kept her up at night. She wanted to know who would have taken it upon themselves to kill a kind woman, and then steal and later poison a crown. It wasn’t right.

She was stripping a chicken’s carcass of feathers, when a familiar voice cut into her thoughts.

“Mistress Baker, I’ve been thinking…” Theobold’s low gravelly voice said.

She looked up. “Oh. Hullo.”

He blinked, as if surprised she hadn’t noticed him. “You are preoccupied, I see. I won’t trouble you.”

“No, stay,” she said. She knew she should be mad at him, but she couldn’t help it. She still liked him and wanted him there, even if they just talked about murder. “I’m thinking. What were you going to say?”

“Only about this business with the crown. We’ll need to figure it out in time for her coronation in a few days if Empress Maud is to safely have her coronation in London.”

“You will, you mean.” Her posture was stiff, her tone sharp. He hadn’t come to her before and now he wanted her help. She let out a small sigh.

“Uh, no. You will too. You don’t—” He glanced at her, eyes widening. “No one told you. The empress is taking a retinue to London, and you’re to be part of the company. She specifically wants you amongst them. I forgot to say.” His arms hung at his sides.

“Me? Go to London?” She paused, the chicken in her hands.

“Yes.”

“But why? I’m nobody.”

“I…” He gave a little sigh. “The empress knows that Stephen’s wife will be present. She wants to flaunt you and others in front of her, to show her supporters.”

Her brow wrinkled. Would she always be a pawn to be used by others? “That seems unkind.”

“This is war, Bronwyn. War isn’t kind, or caring, or compassionate. The sooner you come to understand that, the sooner you’ll comprehend your place in it all.” His voice was curt.

She leaned away from him slightly. “Did I offend you somehow?”

He ran a calloused hand through his dark curls. “No. Can we talk about this whilst you’re not holding a chicken?”

She set it down.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, leaning closer. His voice had grown quiet, his eyes warm.

“About what?” Her breath hitched.

His eyes darted to her lips, her throat.

“Theobold, there you are. I need you. Right now.” Lady Morwenna’s voice carried across the kitchen.

Bronwyn looked across to see Lady Morwenna sniffing and holding her nose in the air, staring and turning her nose up at the servants as they worked.

She wore a pretty, green dress and approached them.

“Oh, Bronwyn, how good of you to be already preparing for our dinner. Mind you roast it good and tender—I do love chicken. But none of your spices in it; I hate seasoning.” She touched Theobold’s arm.

“Theobold, come. There is a private matter we need to discuss.”

“What is that?” he asked.

“It’s private, and I would not have the kitchen maids listening to our affairs. Now, will you come or not?”

Theobold let out a small sigh and followed her out. He glanced back once at Bronwyn, catching her eye, then left.

Bronwyn picked up the chicken and resumed her plucking.

London. Another great city in England. Another adventure and yet…

… She didn’t want to go. She felt comfortable here, and she didn’t want to go be a part of the empress’s scheme.

But she was getting sick of seeing all the happy couples around her.

Maybe a change of scenery would do her good.

An older cook came over, an average-sized woman with grey hair cut short and a heavily lined face. “Those friends of yours always treat this kitchen like it’s their own dining hall. Tell them to keep out, especially Lady Morwenna. She’s a nasty one.”

“They’re not my friends.”

“Pft. That squire Theobold comes in here most days, looking for you, even if he don’t say so. And I even seen that squire who’s romancing Lady Alice; he’s come around here too looking around.”

“When was this?” She froze, feathers falling from her fingers. Rupert and Theobold had both come looking for her and she hadn’t been here? A part of her cringed.

“When you were out tending the castle gardens and gathering herbs. I heard what that Theobold said. So you’ll be joining the servants going to London. That’s a treat. You’ll enjoy that.”

“What’s it like?”