Scofield latches onto the suggestion. “Yes, we can have anything sent for you. There’s no need to take a trip to the kitchens.”
“Oh, I’m not going there for the food. I just want to walk around a bit,” I say absently before I stop at the landing and turn. “Now, there’s just one rule I want to make really clear to both of you. And it’s a matter of life and death.” The seriousness in my tone makes them pause. “Neither of you are to touch me. Ever.”
Their eyes widen comically. My glare is probably a bit overboard, but I need to make sure they understand, because their lives depend on it.
I’ve been lucky so far that no one has touched my skin during the day, and I have to make sure it stays that way. Midas has already set the precedent that no one is to ever touch me, so all I need to do is drive that rule home.
“It doesn’t matter if there’s a wayward carriage about to run me down, or a viper in my soup bowl, or if you just want to offer your arm to help me down a broken stairwell,” I go on. “Never, under any circumstances, are you allowed to touch any part of me. King Midas will have you killed in an instant, even if your intentions were honorable. Do you understand?”
Lowe’s throat bobs nervously, like he’s even less pleased about escorting me than he was before. Scofield gives a wary nod. “I know the rules, my lady. The king made them exceedingly clear.” He looks away, muttering, “Maybe not as colorful as you just did, but…”
I hold back a snort. “Okay, good. Just make sure you follow them.” I take a deep breath and look around. “Now, which way to the kitchens?”
“To the left, my lady,” Lowe answers.
I immediately turn and head in that direction and look around as I go, eyeing the jagged icicles insignia embroidered into the carpets. My gloved fingers itch to drag against the stone walls encased in the layer of glass, but I keep them at my sides. I shiver at the way it looks like ice, the effect helped by the chill in the air that seems to cling to the stunted ceilings and the crevices of every corner.
“Is King Ravinger staying on this level?” I ask curiously. As soon as I speak the question aloud, regret makes me bite my tongue. Whether he’s on this level or about a thousand levels below in hell, it shouldn’t matter, and I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care.
“I believe he’s in another wing, my lady,” Scofield answers.
A non-committal noise rises from my throat as I nod stiffly. Forget about him, I practically hiss at myself.
On the next floor down, we pass by a wide-eyed servant who stops dead in her tracks at the sight of me. She presses herself against the wall so tightly it’s like she’s worried I’ll trip and fall into her and Midas will punish her for it. It’s not a far-fetched scenario.
I give her a friendly wave but then stop when I notice the pile of rags in her arms. “May I have one of those?”
She blinks at me. “What?”
“The rags, may I please have one?”
A flabbergasted expression crosses her face before she manages to answer. “Sure, my lady. Take whatever you like.”
“Thank you.” I pluck one from the pile, pretending not to notice the way she winces.
As soon as I have the rag in my hand, she dips into a curtsy and hurries away. I try and fail to suppress a sigh. I’m well and truly back in a castle controlled by Midas. I know it’s for the best that people are scared of me, because I don’t want to hurt anyone accidentally, but at the same time, it was so nice not to endure that reaction for a while. In Fourth’s army, no one flinched away from me, no one averted their eyes. It made me feel almost...normal.
When I look back at Scofield and Lowe, I notice them frowning at the rag in my gloved hand. I quickly slip it into my pocket. “In case my nose runs,” I say lamely. “It’s...drafty in here.”
I grimace at myself, but they simply nod, and I turn and keep walking. I follow Lowe’s directions all the way to the palace kitchens, but once near enough, I could’ve found it by scent alone.
The smell of freshly baked bread greets me as I step inside the doorway. The space is large, with so much steam and smoke that it’s like walking through a cloud. I take a moment to look around, noting the workers busy at their tasks.
I wasn’t lying when I told the guards that I wanted to walk around. I want to get a feel for Ranhold on every level, and I figured the kitchens was an innocent place to start.
A cook with a sweaty face and a soiled apron finally seems to notice me even through the haze, and her eyes grow wide. “My lady?”
“Hello,” I say with a smile.
The woman comes over while the rest of the kitchen staff go quiet and still, staring at me like they aren’t sure if I’m real or not.
“Did you...did you need something, my lady?” she asks nervously, darting a look at the guards.
I glance around at all the stunned staff, wondering if maybe this hadn’t seemed so innocent after all. “Oh, I was just wondering if I could have a piece of fruit?”
Behind me, I can almost feel Lowe glower.