CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hafold hurried through the Queen’s chamber, preparing her morning meal, as she had done every day during her thirty five years in the Queen’s service. Hafold was a precise woman, and she stuck to her schedule like clockwork, crossing the stone chamber as she prepared the Queen’s porridge.
On this day, though, she walked twice as fast. For the first time in all her years of service, she was late. She had tossed and turned all night with obscure, ominous dreams, the first nightmares of her life. She had seen King's Court rise up in flames, people burned alive, screaming all around her.
By the time she had awakened, the first sun was already high in the sky, and Hafold had leapt from her bed, embarrassed. She felt awful at the thought of having made the Queen wait, at arrivi
