Viking Fire by Andrea R. Cooper Page B

stone floor. Pieces of her hair loosened from her braid and brushed against her cheeks. She glanced at her hands. They looked like someone else’s; cracked, swollen, and older. Her muscles ached for a massage.
    The cook waddled to her on her stilt like legs. Kaireen smiled.
    The cook did not smile back, but tapped her foot. “What do think you are doing?”
    Kaireen glanced around puzzled. She had cleaned the trenchers, peeled a mound of potatoes, stirred this monstrous pot, and filled every trencher with the stew.
    Cook did not wait for an answer. “Guests eat. Many will want more helpings.”
    Kaireen stared open-mouthed.
    The cook pounded her other hand with her fist, making Kaireen cringe. “Get off your arse and keep stirring the stew. Fill the trenchers when they come back. Do not stop stirring until I tell you to.” She glared at Kaireen until she did as told. The cook shuffled away, investigating another servant’s progress.
    Kaireen’s arms were lead.
    Soon the kitchens blurred with servants again. They rushed to refill pitchers of mead, wine, and trenchers with second and third helpings.
    Kaireen gave her best glares to the cook’s back. She could not afford to take any extra punishment for making faces at the woman. She focused on stirring the stew. But she imagined dumping the entire gooey mess on the cook’s head.
    A servant cleared her throat. Then Kaireen noticed the string of servants waiting with empty trenchers. “No time for dreaming,” the servant simpered. “Fill or I tell your lord father and mother you sat on your arse all evening.”
    Kaireen smiled until her cheeks hurt. Inside she seethed.
Let us see how she likes cleaning the stables for a month.
At least, as soon as she was not punished anymore, Kaireen would find a way to pay this servant back.
    Kaireen plopped a spoonful of the stew onto the trencher. Her smile froze in place in what she hoped was a mocking manner as the stew splattered across the girl’s livery.
    The servant screamed, but the cook dragged her away.
    Her reward was that the cook waggled a finger at Kaireen, promising the distraught servant she would ensure Kaireen’s added punishment for the mess.
    She mumbled and continued serving. Soon she heard gasps from the other women, but she refused to look at them. She would not give these servants the satisfaction. She did not glance up when she placed another helping on the empty trencher before her.
    “Our bairns will worry not about starving with your cooking.” Bram’s voice, filled with amusement, echoed through the kitchens.
    From the shock she stepped backward, but he caught her arm, steadying her. She recovered and then wrenched her arm free. “I will poison your supper before we have any bairns,” she promised.
    “You wish to enjoy your time alone with me when we first wed?” He nodded at the other servant’s crowding around. His fingers clasped her chin, guiding her to look at him. “If my loving is too much for you, and you want to enjoy me without bairns awhile, you only need say. No need for poison, my jealous wife.”
    In front of everyone he brushed his lips across hers, silencing her protest. He winked and then strolled away.
    Kaireen threw the stew spoon at his head, but was too late. The spoon hit the stone arch and then clattered on the floor.
    Her fist clenched as she strode to retrieve her weapon.
    The cook’s coal eyes glared from underneath heavy lids. “For your behavior this evening, you will clean the kitchens tonight—every trencher, knife, and pan…everything.”
    Kaireen tightened her grip on the spoon. The stew bubbled as she marched back to the kettle.
    “Stir.”
    As she raked at the muck glued onto the cast iron sides, Kaireen willed the grime into everyone’s stomach. With each pass of the spoon against the kettle set Kaireen’s teeth on edge.
    The cook nodded her approval.
    Every muscle in her body cramped. She knuckled her back with her free hand to ease the tension. She