At first I thought I was back in my cottage—that all of this was a dream. But it wasn’t. I was alone in a vast, high-ceilinged hall. Gray sky was visible through slitted windows, and a fire flickered in the enormous hearth. I was cold, though a heavy fur cloak had been draped across my shoulders. Underneath it, I still wore a scullery maid’s dress and a lady’s fine, soft boots, their leather the color of dried blood.
A feast had been laid out before me: meat, bread, and wine on a linen-covered table. A single candle burned in its polished brass holder.
I looked around in confusion, but there were no clues to how I’d arrived here, or who had brought me. My last memory was seeing the baron when I stood on the drawbridge, a guard’s knife poised at my throat.
I put my fingers to my neck. The blood was gone, a salve had been applied, and the cut was already healing.
A sudden commotion sounded in the corner, and I jumped, crashing my knee hard into a bench. But it was only a crow who’d found its way into the hall. I watched it circle near the rafters, black feathers flapping, before making its escape out the narrow window.
I turned back to the food. Mouth watering, I took a few hesitant steps toward the table. Could it really be just for me?
I meant to be cautious, but my hand shot out and grabbed a handful of roasted nuts. I shoved them into my mouth, barely chewing them before I swallowed. They were crunchy, salty, and flavored with spices I’d never tasted before. I scooped up another handful.
Then I stopped and listened. Looked all around, peering into every dim corner.
Nothing happened. No one called out for me to stop.
Then the hunger in my belly woke all the way, uncurling like an animal coming out of hiding. I forgot to be worried about why I was here or what would come next. I ate and ate and ate: pigeon pie, braised leeks, jellied fish, baked apples. It seemed as if I would never be full. What I couldn’t put in my mouth I shoved into the big greasy pocket of my apron.
I was putting rolls into my pocket with one hand and raising the roasted lamb to my lips with the other when I heard a low, haughty laugh.
“It can’t run away from you, you know.”
I turned and saw Baron Joachim’s chiseled face, his green-gold eyes blazing at me from the shadows. I felt my cheeks flush in shame. If I’d known he was watching, my pride would’ve conquered my hunger. I set the meat down and wiped my hands on my dress. I turned away from the table.
A smile played in the corner of his mouth. “Chagrined, are you? How surprising, considering that you stole from me shamelessly under the cover of night. Why do you balk now at eating what is freely offered—is it because I am here to see you chew?” His smile grew wider. “You are a very peculiar girl indeed.”
My cheeks still burned, but I kept my mouth in a hard line. Yes, I was embarrassed to have been caught shoving food everywhere I could get it. I didn’t want to accept kindness from the baron.
But I’m so hungry.
“Well?” he said.
I swallowed the last bit of meat. “It is fine food,” I allowed.
“You are unaccustomed to such fare, I suppose, living on gruel and potage. It’s an ugly life for a beautiful girl, isn’t it?” Baron Joachim picked up an apple and tossed it into the air, catching it without looking. “It hardly seems fair.”
An ugly life. A beautiful girl. That he could compliment me and mock me in the same breath filled me with anger. But I said nothing.
And wasn’t the baron right, anyway? Our lives weren’t fair, and I’d always known it. Nobles deserved their power and riches, while people like us deserved our toil and our poverty, and that was how God and everyone else wanted it.
Such was the claim, anyway. I had no use for it.
The baron threw me the apple, and I caught it without thinking. He laughed. “So you are paying attention,” he said.
I set the apple on the table. I’d eat no more, not with him watching.
“You’re trembling. Are you frightened?” he asked, moving another touch closer.
“No.” There, I’d spoken. But it was a lie. I was frightened. Not because I thought he was going to hurt me, but because I couldn’t understand what was happening. Why had I been brought here? Why did this nobleman even notice me at all? I was no better than an animal to him—he’d made that very clear.
“Have a drink,” he said, picking up a gilded cup and holding it out to me. “It will soothe your nerves.”
“I’m not thirsty,” I said. “And I shouldn’t have eaten. It was a mistake.” I’d come to the castle to ask for help, and then, when faced with platters of food, I’d devoured them like a mindless glutton. “I was weak.”
“Drink,” Baron Joachim said again.
The sudden threat in his voice was subtle but real. He’d spared me on the gallows, but there’d be nothing to stop him from gutting me like a rabbit if the fancy took him. What was a peasant’s life when held up against a nobleman’s pleasure?
I accepted the cup and drank. The wine was rich and sweet. It warmed my throat.
“There now,” he said. “That’s a good girl.”
“My name,” I said, “is—”
“Hannah. I know it.” With his thumb he reached out and wiped a red drop of wine from my lip. My heart clanged in my chest. “Are you done?” he asked softly.
“I am.” I wouldn’t touch anything else. Not when he was watching. Not when everyone I loved was starving.
“Then come with me,” he said.