By the time it was time for dinner, Maya was exhausted. She had been on her feet for more than half the day. Unlike Father's mansion, where she only had to give orders and supervise, here she also had to cook.
She sat quietly in the dining room, watching the servants lay the dishes across the table. A platter of herb-roasted beef, carved into thick slices, sat beside a steaming vegetable stew and a bowl of rice. Creamy mashed potatoes were served alongside warm honey cakes.
She stared at the table with a look of satisfaction—it made her exhaustion worth it. The aroma of spices and the different dishes filled the air. The cinnamon in the cake tickled her nose, but it was the rosemary in nearly all the dishes that stood out.
This was most likely the last chance she had to cook in a while—unless Agnes was feeling generous and wanted her to help with the chicken soup again.
