18
He led them through the door along the corridor and into the kitchen, where Vera, Stefan’s mother, looked up from a large slab of dough she was kneading. A look of surprise crossed her face when she registered that it was not one of her children entering. She stopped what she was doing and dropped a curtsey.
“Good morning, my lord. Are you waiting for me? I’ll just finish this, if you don’t mind, and be along in a few minutes. I need to get it into the oven, ready for lunch.”
Marjorie and Marin smiled at them from the other side of the kitchen where they were cutting up a bunch of carrots.
“Keep her as long as you like,” said Marjorie. “She could do with a morning off. Shall I bring you some tea or coffee while you’re waiting?”
Tarkyn nodded. “Yes please. Enough for the four of us.
