“You shouldn’t antagonize him,” Ivy murmurs, in a voice so low I almost miss it.

I lift my head from the dough I’m kneading and meet the eyes of the dark-haired woman standing opposite me. The kitchen, as usual, is filled with the scents of baking bread from the first loaves we worked on this morning.

“He shouldn’t antagonize me,” I whisper, glancing at some of the other women spread around the kitchen, busy with their own tasks.

Ordinarily, I’d care a lot more about keeping my ...