Someone yawned. Someone else cursed under their breath. A pot lid clattered, and that was the beginning of it.
"Who moved the honey?"
"I didn't touch it. Check the lower shelf, no, the other lower…. "
"That's salt, you fool!"
A maid hurried past with a bowl of eggs cradled against her chest.
She paused only when another servant blocked her path, both of them shifting left, then right, then left again in a silent argument of movement.
"Just go," the other muttered.
"I would if you would choose a side."
They slipped past each other at last. This was the daily bustle of the royal kitchen every blessed morning.
Before dawn had fully broken, the servants were already up, trying within their reach to get breakfast ready in time.
"Make way…make way!"
The cry cut through the room as a line of maids hurried in, arms laden with platters of polished silver flashing in the firelight, heaped with buttered loaves, honey-glazed meats, and fruits.
Their steps were quick and feasible, moving from the kitchen to the dining hall and from the dining hall back to the kitchen.
One of them nearly stumbled.
"Watch it!"
"I am watching; move aside!"
"I cannot move if you keep…!
Their words dissolved into the greater noise, swallowed whole by the clatter of ladles against pots, the hiss of the boiling porridge, and the constant, relentless shuffle of feet against the floor.
A girl no older than fifteen struggled beneath the weight of a laden tray, her arms trembling.
"Hold it properly," an older maid snapped, adjusting her grip without slowing her own stride. "You'll spill it before you reach the doors."
"I won't—"
"You will if you argue."
The little girl rolled her eyes before continuing on her way.
At the great double doors, the servants gathered in brief clusters, trays balanced in their hands, waiting only for the signal to move as one. The doors opened, and with it came a brief breeze that rolled through the hallway before their steps resumed.
"Now. Quickly. Go, go, go!
They surged forward, into the dining hall, in a straight furor, before parting symmetrically to the left and right side of the table, respectively.
A maid rushing back into the kitchen paused just long enough to catch her breath, one hand pressed briefly to her side.
"Is that the last of it?" she asked.
Another maid gave a short, humorless laugh.
"For now."
Already, another platter was being placed into her hands.
"You, yes, you, drop the pottage to the left. Not there, on the left, do you not see the space?"
The woman in charge of the maids, an average short lady, gave the orders as her eyes narrowed.
"And you, fill the wine. Fresh. His Majesty will know if it is not."
"Careful with that, careful! Don't spill the soup, Sara, I swear by the crown…"
A sharp inhale followed; the woman dragged a hand through her hair before pointing again, already turning, already seeing three other things undone.
"Where is it? Where is the butter cream?"
"It's right here!"
A maid said, walking through the door with it in her hand.
"Then why is it there and not here? Move it!"
It was almost dawn, yet things were not in place; the maids redoubled their efforts, and the dining hall became a place filled with hurried steps and half-finished tasks.
"Has the glazed pig been brought to the center?"
"Center, I said! It must be the first thing they see. Do you serve royalty or beggars?"
A pair of maids struggled with it, arms taut, steps frantic.
"Steady, steady! If that falls, you will never need to worry about breakfast ever again, because the king shall have your head."
The woman's eyes narrowed to the table.
"Candles!" she snapped, turning sharply. "Why are the candles not lit?"
A girl fumbled with the flint and wick, already moving towards the table.
"Faster, do you intend for them to dine in darkness?"
A spark caught. Then another. One by one, the candles came alive, their small flames giving light and warmth to the dining hall.
"Better," the woman muttered, though her eyes had already moved on.
"Who changed this tablecloth?"
Silence.
Her gaze dropped to the faint stains on the tablecloth, wine, perhaps, or grease; she couldn't tell, but it was soiled. She knew it was the doing of one of the careless maids.
"Who is responsible for this?" she demanded, her voice tightening.
No answer came.
"Oh, heavens," She pressed her fingers briefly to her temple, then exhaled sharply.
"No time. Lay another cloth over it. Smooth it, no creases."
"Yes, madam."
"Lift the curtains. Quickly, let the light in."
Two maids hurried to the tall windows, fingers catching on the heavy fabric before dragging it wide. Morning light spilled in at once, but the sun had yet to fully rise; it was still a bit dark. That was why the candles were made available.
"Good. Leave them."
"Give way!"
The call came suddenly and strained as another maid hurried in, a platter of steaming soup trembling in her grasp, sweat lining her brow, her breath uneven.
"Careful, careful! In front of you!
She passed through, narrowly avoiding a collision, and the woman watched her go with a hawk's gaze before turning again.
"Set it there…no, not so close to the fruit. Are you trying to warm it? Use your head!"
"Wine," she said again, and saw that it was already on the table.
She stepped forward, adjusting a jug of wine by a fraction, her eyes scrutinizing the setup.
For a fleeting moment, she stood aside, admiring the setup; the scent of food wafted in the air, and the table stood dressed in candles flickering between silver jugs of wine.
"Back," she ordered at last. "All of you, back to the kitchen. Quietly now."
One by one, the maids withdrew, their steps lighter.
Only two maids remained, stationed at a distance, hands folded, faces composed.
What remained was silent, and the graceful sight of the long dining table melded with exotic meals.
The first to be seated at the table was Helena, the king's sister.
The maids began to serve her her breakfast.
A slice of beef was brought forward; she lifted her hand, two fingers, in a dismissive manner.
"Vegetables only."
She cooed, eyes fixed on the steaming porridge. Her voice was gentle, almost pleasant, but there was no warmth in it.
The maid got to it at once, and before murmuring an apology, the plate of beef was replaced with a plate of greens.
Only then did Helena lift her gaze, just in time to see someone making her way to the table; it was Jazell, Ragaleon's second wife.
She had a calm exterior, her face blank, siren blue eyes, and short blonde hair barely grazing her shoulders but framing her face perfectly.
She didn't acknowledge Helena; she took her seat at the table, and the maids began to serve her meal.
Everywhere was silent; many of the members of the royal families were yet to arrive.
Suddenly someone drew out a chair before taking a seat. Jazell didn't raise her gaze, but Helena did, and she saw that it was Leah, her stepsister.
She averted her gaze almost immediately.
Leah raised her hand midway when she saw that the maids were about to serve her porridge. Her smoky eyes lifted before she muttered,
"Beef only, and some soup."
Her thick, wavy violet hair was styled in a crown braid, with a few strands left, giving her an ethereal beauty.
Her hands were gloved, the black fabric ending at her wrist.
It was always like that; no one has truly seen her fingers; they were always concealed with a glove.
On her pinky finger was a ruby ring that stood out perfectly.
Leah was served her meal, and she proceeded to eat.
"Wine."
A voice cooed. It was a subtle request, but it caught the attention of someone at the table, Jazell.
Jazell's gaze lifted, just for a moment, and it found Tamina.
She was already seated at the table; no one had seen her arrive except for the maids.
A servant stepped forward immediately; she had been waiting for the request before it was made.
The silver jug tilted, and wine was poured in a smooth, uninterrupted stream into the cup beside Tamina's plate.
Tamina plucked the cup from the table without looking at the maid; instead, her eyes darted across the table towards Jazell's direction. Their gaze locked, and she held it for a moment before Jazell finally looked away.
A moment passed and a little boy took his seat at the table.
His curly ginger hair had been brushed neatly. His green eyes moved beneath lowered lashes, taking in what he could without drawing attention to himself.
He was the son of the king, not by birth but by marriage.
His mother, Racheal, was nowhere to be found.
Amilek's hands rested awkwardly for a moment before he adjusted them, folding them together, then separating them again.
His gaze flickered.
From Helena, still and composed.
To Jazell, unmoving and cold.
To Leah, quiet but distant.
And then Tamina, she was calm in a way that felt almost unsettling.
The rest of the royal family arrived later, and soon every single chair at the table was occupied except for two.
The first chair that was empty was where Katie should have been seated, but she was dead. A vulgar matter no one wanted to discuss at the table.
Seated on the second chair should be Selena, Ragaleon's mother, but for some untold reason, she had decided to skip breakfast.
Ragaleon was the last to reach the table. He stepped into the hallway with an overwhelming demeanor.
He looked striking in his regal outfit; his dark shoulder-length hair was brushed backwards and made to slip. The tip of his hair rested squarely on his shoulder, and his hands were crossed behind his back.
Immediately he stepped in, the maids adjusted their stance.
"Your Majesty."
"My lord."
They all began to bow one by one in succession as he brushed past them.
Immediately everyone at that table proceeded to rise to their feet, but he stopped them halfway with a single motion of his hand before proceeding to say,
"Save yourself the effort."
Johanna, whose legs were already straining, took her seat almost instantly, earning a startled look from her daughter, Leah.
Immediately after Ragaleon took his seat, the maid set his meal before him. He did not begin immediately; instead, he allowed his eyes to travel across the length of the table, skimming through each face, until they settled on Amilek.
He paused, then looked around again; his mother was not present at that table.
Her absence did not go unnoticed, though he made no remark of it. Instead, his attention shifted downward, to the boy's plate.
The portion of his food was small, almost negligent.
Whether it was the carelessness of the servants or the boy's own silence in asking, he could not yet tell.
"Add greens to Amilek's plate," he said in a detached manner, as he retracted his gaze. "And double his beef."
His remark caught the attention of Jazell. Her eyes rested on Amilek for a splitting moment before she fixed them back on her food.
The maid doubled the portion of his food, and Amilek's plate finally became worthy of the table he sat at.
The boy exhaled, filled with relief in a way he could not quite hide.
His eyes traveled across the table to where his father was seated, and their eyes locked.
It was brief, so brief it might have been imagined, but in that instant, something unspoken passed between them.
Amilek was the first to look away.
He was unsure whether or not to be grateful or simply scared. He had heard a lot of things about his new father, and ever since his mother remarried, this household has not been kind to him either.
The boy kept his head lowered, his hands careful; he handled his utensils as though he were learning how to use them.
And though his plate was now full, he ate as if he still needed permission.
Ragaleon reached for his cup of wine, took a sip, and his gaze drifted once more, briefly, toward the boy's now-filled plate before settling ahead again.
"Have Katie's chamber prepared," he began, lifting his cup only after it had been refilled by a maid for the second time. "And her things, have them moved out and burned."
The maid stilled for half a breath, then bowed her head.
"I will not have my new wife live among her remnants."
With that remake, he had managed to catch the attention of all that were seated at the table, including Amilek, who was devastated he was going to be having another stepmother.
Tamina, who seemed a bit oblivious to her surroundings, was a bit astounded by his words.
"Does my Lord wish to take another wife to replace Katie?"
She dared to ask, even though she was well aware her opinion was unsolicited.
He did not answer her at once. He set his cup down with quiet precision, his fingers lingering at its stem. Then his gaze shifted, not fully toward her, but enough.
"Does that stir discomfort, Tamina?"
His deep voice breathed; there was something ethereal about the way her name sounded on his lips.
To his question, she simply shook her head sideways before saying it.
"No, My Lord."
"Then you shall like to be careful when next you attempt to ask a question."
His words made her freeze in place. She lifted her grey eyes, slowly darting them in his direction.
He was already on his feet; he plucked the silver cup on the table that was filled with wine before taking his leave. His cape-like regal attire trailed behind him as he moved.
Tamina held his retreating form for a moment longer before lowering her eyes once more. Her posture remained composed as she helped herself to a cup of wine.
She emptied the cup in two gulps before resting the cup back on the table.
"More wine."
She said without lifting her gaze; suddenly her throat was dry, and she needed something to calm her racing heart.
Her expression remained unchanged to any observer; she was handling the situation quite well.
Johanna leaned slightly towards her daughter, her voice low, meant to travel no farther than the space between them.
"Just wait until Selena hears this."
Her voice was filled with mockery.
Leah's dark eyes lifted, thoughtfully, then her gaze traveled to Helena's direction.
She leaned closer to her mother without breaking her gaze away from her stepsister, her reply barely more than a whisper against her mother's ear.
"It is all bed and roses now..." she began before dropping her gaze, "but there will come a time when his wives will turn against each other. And this household will become even more divided, and the power of the realms will hang unbalanced.
When that time comes, it is certain that it shall be the beginning of Ragaleon's demise"