Story 48/1001

• queen
• flour
• motivation

I carried the heavy bags all the way to the queen’s kitchen. Because of her special diet, her food can’t be prepared with the rest, and her kitchen is under constant supervision. It is high up in the castle, so fresh air can keep the food clean – and because of that, I get my daily exercise before dawn.

“Krista, come, fast.” Maelie called out to me from beneath the stairs leading to the kitchen. “Lady Christine is at it again.” She said, putting a finger in front of her lips. I listened.

This time, it was the old cook, Marianna. She is kind to all of us, and she has been the queen’s cook for decades. Lady Christine always hated her, but this time it was serious.

“What?” I said, listening to their conversa­tion. I jumped out, leaving the bags of flour on the floor next to Maelie, and went to the kitchen.

“I am in charge of the supplies.” I said. Lady Christine turned to me, in shock. Marianna glared at me. I knew she would be mad, but I can’t let her get beaten up.

“So, you switched the flour?” Lady Christine held a whip in her hand. Its ends were bloody, and Marianna tried to stand straight, but covered her stomach with her hands.

“No. Only almond flour can get inside this kitchen. It is inspected at three points before it even reaches the kitchen.” I knew the tone of my voice was wrong. I knew I am nothing but a lowly maid, a cook’s apprentice. 

But I couldn’t help myself.

“So, you think the royal guard did it?” She smirked. “How would you explain the rash the queen got after eating yesterday? She almost died!” Lady Christine filled the tower with her voice, making everyone flinch.

“Maybe you did it.” I said, biting my tongue as soon as I said it.

Marianna looked at me, her eyes wide, and stood in front of me.

“She is young, lady Christine. Please forgive her. Punish me. I didn’t teach her well.” She said.

I looked at her bloody back. Lady Christine already punished her, for something she would never do.

“Get on your knees and beg!” Marianna gritted through her teeth.

“Will you beg, young apprentice?” Lady Christine asked, playing with the whip in her hand.

I clenched my fists and walked past our old cook. The whole time I walked, I looked at the ground – but not because I was ashamed.

It was because I was furious.

They never cared about us. The kings, princes, ladies, even guards – they all looked at us like we weren’t even human. We are here to clean after them, cook for them, and for them to take us whenever they want. We get the beatings, the scars. And they think we owe them our loyalty.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, only for the old cook to hear.

“Will you beg?” Lady Christine continued. “Or will you explain to me what kind of motivation would I have to do this? The queen is kind to me.”

She stopped and looked at me, scoffing like she is disgusted by me.

“It is you I hate. Poor little nobodies who think a prince will marry you if you’re loud enough. If you don’t start acting like a lowly servant you are, I’ll be glad to put you back where you belong.”

She said, raising her hand. I looked up at her. For a moment, I saw her hesitate. She probably never saw a servant fight back.

I rushed at her, leading her towards the big window behind her. I pushed her as hard as I could, and before I knew it, her head was split open on the ground.

Old cook yelled at me, trying to pull me away from the window, Maelie screamed, the guards showed up.

But I stayed calm.