Darren

My kitchens fell without a single blow being struck.

Evette arrived before the party with one trunk, three crates of preserves, and the unstoppable momentum of a mother-in-law on a mission. By the time I came down from the morning councils, my head cook had surrendered her ladle the way a general surrenders a sword, my entire kitchen staff had defected to the invader, and the woman who once outran a royal kill order was elbow-deep in my pantry, reorganizing it by a system she declined to ...