“Nora, you are serving tonight, right?”

The voice cut through the kitchen noise like a knife.

I froze, the wooden spoon heavy in my hand. The fire hissed, pots bubbled, the smell of roasted venison filled the air, but all of it dimmed the moment I heard that sharp voice.

I turned my head slowly. Of course, it was her.

The head chef.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen as if she ruled it, her apron spotless even though the rest of us were covered in flour, sweat, and the smoke of the ...