Daniel’s POV
The Festival day arrived like a blade drawn too quickly from its sheaths.
From the moment dawn broke, the palace roared with life. Bells rang. Drums thundered. Silk banners snapped in the wind as nobles poured in through the gates, laughter and perfume thick in the air.
But Inside the kitchens, chaos ruled—fires blazing, pots boiling, voices shouting over one another.
This was it.
Everything I had built and prepared over the past few days would be judged today.
I wiped my hands on my apron and scanned the room. “Final check,” I called sharply. “Sauces off the fire in five. Meat trays ready for the royal table first.”
“Yes, Chef Daniel,” several voices answered me—some respectful, some grudging.
I moved quickly to the cold storage.
And froze.
The jars of spice were
