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Chapter Twenty-Two

“I have a good healer,” he led me through the ground floor of the castle. “She’s normally in the kitchens.”

“In the kitchens?” I repeated.

“Apparently they’re the perfect place for brewing up potions. You would know. You’re a mage.”

“I have never willingly stepped foot in a kitchen in my life, except to steal food or wine. Any potion that requires cooking, just hasn’t had someone motivated enough to work around that aspect.”

We stepped down three steps into the kitchen and stood for a moment overwhelmed by the activity and heat within. The kitchen was rawer than the part of the castle we had previously been in, the stone less finished, less regular in cut. The walls were grimed with smoke, and the floor worn uneven. Light entered through a series of small windows set high on the walls, open to let in the air, and the door to the kitchen gardens, which also stood ajar.

A chicken pecked in the open doorway, ignorant to the massacre of its ilk wi

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