What a crazy day. I wondered if Valek would still consider my news a cause for celebration. So much had happened since I first suspected.

A baby.

I imagined a little boy with bright blue eyes and black hair. The scamp would be causing trouble at every turn. Janco would soon be the favorite uncle, and Junior would probably learn how to throw a knife before he learned how to dress himself. Or perhaps a little girl with curly black hair. She’d be in the midst of trouble and have Valek wrapped around her finger. Ari would spoil her rotten. And she’d learn how to pick a lock before she could read.

I arrived at the kitchen. Laughter and the clatter of dishes vibrated through the double doors. A spicy roasted meat aroma enticed me onward. Steam puffed from buckets of water as the staff scrubbed pots. I’d missed supper while visiting the medic.

Sammy, the head chef, spotted me hovering near the door and waved me over to his workstation. It gleamed, but his all-white uniform sported a number of gravy splotches and other stains.

“Did you stop by to say hello or to scrounge for food?” he asked.

“Both. And to thank you for the delicious sweet cakes. The best you’ve ever made. You added something new, didn’t you?” I sat on one of the stools.

“Yup. Guess what it is.” A devilish grin spanned Sammy’s youthful face.

At age twenty, he was the youngest person ever assigned as head chef for the Commander. A pang of grief pressed on my heart for the previous chef, Rand. A friend who had betrayed me, and then saved me.

“Lemon juice?”

“Aww, you’re no fun.” He pretended to pout.

“Then you should ask someone who wasn’t trained as a food taster. Why did you add it?”

“The lemon juice reacts with the baking powder, causing the batter to bubble, and it makes the sweet cakes lighter and fluffier.”

“And yummier.” I smiled. “Speaking of food, is there anything left over from supper?”

He opened one of the ovens built into the stones above the huge hearth that dominated the center of the kitchen. Grabbing a protective mitt, he pulled a pan out along with the mouthwatering scent of braised beef.

Sammy picked up an oversize metal spoon, ladled two heaping servings and slid one over to me along with a fork. “Nice to have company while I eat.”

“Thanks. Do you always wait this late?”

“Yup. This way I know everyone’s fed and no one’s gonna interrupt me.”

The meat just fell apart and melted in my mouth. Sammy chuckled at my unladylike moans.

“This is fantastic. What’s the occasion?”

Sammy sobered. “The Commander’s guests requested it.”

Figured Owen wouldn’t be happy with standard fare. And this was the perfect opportunity to learn what the gossip network had discovered. “Does the Commander usually let his guests decide?”

“No. Usually, he lets me plan the menu unless there’s a special occasion. Then he orders the meal. But these three have been a giant pain in my ass since they’ve arrived.”

“Really?”

“Yup. They complain about everything. The meat’s too hot. It’s too cold. Too much bread. Not enough cheese. They also have the poor housekeepers in a tizzy.”

“Why?”

“They’ve taken over the entire guest wing and refuse to let the housekeepers into certain rooms. And they fuss if their beds aren’t made early enough and if the chamber pots aren’t immediately emptied.”

“Has any of the staff complained to the Commander?” I asked.

“No. The Commander gave orders that we were to ensure that their every need was met, no matter what. And no, he’s never said that before. Not even when the Generals are visiting.”

Not too surprising, if Owen had somehow managed to influence the Commander despite the null shield woven into his uniforms. How long ago did Leif provide the protection? Could Owen have done it four and a half years ago, when he’d first been captured in Ixia? I’d have to ask Leif. But would his answer come in time? Before, I’d contact him through a super messenger and have instant communication. Now it would take a week at least. If my magic ever returned, I’d never take it for granted again.

“Anything else strange going on with them?” I asked.

Sammy chewed thoughtfully. “Yup. They took a bunch of the housekeepers’ buckets and filled them with dirt. And they’ve been burning lots of wood. But not in their rooms, ’cause there’s not enough ash.”

“Buckets of dirt?”

He shrugged. “Probably in the rooms they blocked from the staff.”

Sammy’s gossip confirmed that Owen had brought along a few of those Harman saplings and were growing them inside. It made sense if the tree was used to the warmer Sitian climate. Plus, it would take a few weeks for Owen to build a glass hothouse.

As Sammy prattled on about the various hookups among the servants, I wondered if Valek could sneak into the guest suite and steal one of those saplings. Eventually Sammy finished his stories and started yawning. His day started hours before dawn. I bid him a good-night and headed to Valek’s suite.

Only a few people traveled the corridors. It was later than I’d thought. By the time I reached the turn into the shortcut through the servant’s wing, the halls were deserted.

“Yelena!” Valek called from behind me. He sounded relieved.

I turned.

He ran up to me. “Where have you been?”