Olivia’s POV
The day began as usual, and very early, and very cold, and very mean.
"Faster, girl! The breakfast of the King is not going to prepare itself!” Mrs. Moore shouted down the stove, banging a pot on it.
I bit my lip and kept stirring. I was again in a crushing headache, and I could not risk slowing down. In case of a slip, one would report that and then it was a punishment.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she snapped. “Add the herbs! Are you deaf now too?”
I reached for the jar on the shelf, but my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. The world tilted, and before I knew it, my vision blurred.
“Olivia! What are you doing, ”
The last thing I heard before all was dark was her voice.
When I came to myself I was no longer in the kitchen. The odor of herbs and firewood had been substituted by
