21“Where have you been?”
Mrs. Wyatt’s voice pierced through the busy kitchen as Lena slipped into the inn. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, her complexion striped red and black by the flickering flames of the hearth behind her.
“Lord Jarl has been here for more than an hour. We’re about to serve dinner and he’s requested our presence. All of us, Edwin too. As if we don’t have a thousand other chores to do,” she added beneath her breath. “Go on! Go fetch him,” she barked, shooing Lena out of the kitchen, toward Edwin’s room. “Make sure he looks presentable!” she called, then whirled back around to deliver clipped orders to one of the cooks.
Lena didn’t hesitate. She darted through the kitchen doors and slunk swiftly through the crowded foyer, keeping to the edge of the room, ho
