Chapter Ten

The kitchen, like its guardian, had two facets.

The left side was neat. Everything was in order and the food that was visible looked fresh and appetising from meat to vegetation, the likes of which Demetrius had not seen before.

Plump fish, preserved in dried herbs and sharp smelling brines along with a rainbow of oddly shaped fruits that added a sweetness to the salty odour.

The right side. Well, the less said the better.

It was the area used for preparing the food for the lowest of the low, and also the diet for those souls trapped in purgatory. Both a reward and punishment. Even the vermin wouldn't touch some of the rancid items that mouldered there along with bones and offcuts from the least desirable catches.

The cook was just as unpleasant. At least on the back. When facing forward people were met with the kind and beautiful face of a young man or woman, depending on what form they wished to take. One look at such a face would have the admirer falling over themselves to please them but when they turned around it would turn the stomach.

Facing Demetrius at the moment was a monstrosity. A mockery of a human face reminded him of his reflection when the ripples distorted the water.

Beady, bloodshot eyes peered through a glut of wrinkles and cracked skin, half-covered by stringy hair that hadn't been washed for years. In the centre of the face, a broken nose protruded with nostrils large enough to hide the carving knife he held.

"Good mor..."

"Brushes are in the corner." The 'man's' baritone voice interrupted him, a rich, smooth sound that belonged to one much fairer. Clearly, his voice had not altered to suit. "I want it spotless. I want to see it shine for one second before the filth comes back like rats to a corpse."

"Nice comparison," Demetrius looked over at the ingrained dirt and his heart sank. "Don't you require help with the food preparation? That would surely be more worthwhile."

The male looked at him with a mix of pity and disgust and shook his head slowly. "What is worthwhile is not worth doing. Not when you are here. If I need your help, then I will ask. I have been given my orders and I have given them to you."

"It seems like a waste of time," Demetrius commented as he took up the brush. The bristles were cracked and the handle was broken. Just another thorn in his side. "If it stays clean for seconds I will be stunned."

"As will I." The man hauled a sack from under one of the counters and slammed it before him.

The hessian fibres were slick with the blood of a fresh carcass. A large fish of some sort, the name of which escaped him. Alive it was as fine as a peacock with the scales shimmering in teal and lilac, purifying the sea about it by ingesting the grime from above, happy to feast on it and keep the lower levels as fine as the palace it richly deserved. Dead it was simply grey and stinking and needed to be cut immediately before it was useless.

Demetrius scowled as scales began to fly and most of which flew over to his area and onto the places where he was working.

He reached for a cloth and swept them away, they were far easier than the built-up filth that was refusing the budge.

"Perhaps you ought to clean the pots and plates?"

A softer voice caressed his ears and his eyes were indulged with a vision of beauty.

The man had turned and the face looking at him was a face the Gods themselves would envy. As flawless as porcelain and as beautiful as the roses that grew by the rivers in summer.

"Y-yes...that's a wise suggestion," Demetrius tripped over his tongue and his eyes refused to move from the angelic creature, savouring it while it lasted. "I imagine it will be more helpful in the long run."

"Most certainly. And you can avoid scattering scales everywhere. I have doubts that Lord Karanos would appreciate scales being trailed all over the place. I doubt anyone would for that matter. I have to get them swept up."

Demetrius managed a small laugh and edged over to a large basin full of murky water. Several sprigs of herbs floated on the surface and aided with cleaning and giving a pleasant scent. The smell of brine never helped the appetite and made for sticky silverware.

With this side of the man showing, the task moved easier. Working in silence and with relative ease. The man didn't speak to him, only muttered occasionally about the state of the fish or some other irritation. It was as if Demetrius didn't exist. Had it been his other personality he would have been given the given eye constantly along with unpleasant, snide remarks.

Most of the plates and bowls didn't need a great deal of cleaning. There was actually little point. Blood and meat juice had stained the insides for all time and no amount of scrubbing would remove it.

Another thankless task but one that did have somewhat more pride to it. At least the dirt didn't simply reappear again.

As Demetrius picked up the clean plates to put them away, a bell rang. He hadn't noticed the line of bells on the wall, hidden in the shadows and practically the same colours as the gloomy walls. The sound was just as gloomy. Low and mournful like the cattle in the evening.

"That's Lady Kayana," the man's head twisted and his visage changed. "Get up and see what she wants and hurry it up! You might have finished there but there's plenty to break your back on!"

"Anything to get out of here," Demetrius muttered. "I've only been here a few minutes and I already feel like I'm going mad."

"Join the rest of us," the cook grunted, slamming the knife through the thin skull of the fish. "By the end of the week, you'll be a raving lunatic."

---

The sound of the lonely bell lingered in the winding passages and guided Demetrius to the required room. It was a benefit he was glad of, after all, every corridor looked the same when all the doors were closed.

That being said, a strange haze flowed from under Kayana's room. It reminded him of the steam that came from a hot bath but instead of white, it glowed from yellow to blue and back again.

He watched it for several moments, captivated by the movement and strangeness.

"I know someone is there!" Kayana's crisp voice pierced his ears. "Open the door."

Demetrius pushed the door to reveal an odd sight.

The room was empty save for a thin mist that hovered over a thin sheen of water that rose just up to Kayana's ankles and yet didn't spill from the door.

A comforting humidity filled the space and the whole area felt like a place of cleansing.

A single picture hung at the back on the stone wall. The portrait of a beautiful female whose eyes followed every move from under her strawberry fringe.

One could believe it was a relative if it wasn't for the hair colour.

Kayana was garbed in little more than a sheer gown that showed her curves and left little to the imagination and caused Demetrius to keep his eyes on his feet.

She smirked at the embarrassment and sidled forward, unbothered.

"Fetch me some pressed juice. I have a headache from the wine the other evening."

"Of course, I take it that everything I need is in the kitchen?"

"Indeed. Ask and one will find."

Demetrius moved to leave but was stopped when her hand caught his shoulder. Her slim fingers kneaded his taut muscles and her free hand tilted his head up.

"Before you leave, do you not want to learn more about the secrets of this room?" Her voice was soft as it tickled his cheek. "Such a handsome man must have an...active mind, no? Active for many things, secrets and thrills."

Demetrius's stomach rolled as if a boulder had landed in the base and his skin paled in response.

"I am here to work, my Lady. If I did anything more, I fear your brother might have something to say about it. Or worse, he will say nothing and do more."

Kayana wrinkled her nose. "Well, Karanos has his little moments. But what goes on behind closed doors will often stay there. And this room holds many mysteries. I'm sure you see that?"

Demetrius tore his eyes from the wide, seductive orbs that held them and peered into the misty area.

"It has. But I must not dally today, after all, I am trying to avoid looking like I am dispensable. You will forgive me, I hope."

Kayana exhaled sharply and pushed away. She closed her eyes for a moment before stepping back into the confines of her room with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

"Get my drink. That will prove your use in some way."

She gave him a cold look and shut the door, barely unable to stop herself slamming it and loosening the hinges even more.

"Yes, my Lady," Demetrius stared at the cracked wood. "Whatever you say."