The palace kitchens were already in chaos when Tom arrived.
Pots clanged. Chefs shouted. Servants ran between stations, balancing trays and avoiding collisions. The air smelled of roasting meat, fresh bread, and something sweet baking in the far ovens. Tom stood at the entrance, his new apron clutched in his hands, his face pale.
He was seventeen. Human. The first graduate of Seren's school.
And he was terrified.
"You must be the new cook." A wolf woman with flour on her apron appeared before him. She was broad-shouldered, grey-muzzled, with sharp eyes that missed nothing. "I'm Marga. Head of kitchens. You're late."
"The guards at the gate; they didn't believe I was supposed to be here."
"Human. Young. First day." Marga snorted. "I'll have words with them. Follow me."
Tom followed.
