Page 401 of Coal Hearts

Chapter Nineteen

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Ily

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I STUMBLED OVER THE KITCHEN’s threshold, unable to believe my eyes.

I’d thought Rachel was taking us to the jewel quarters.

A part of me longed to return to all those rows of neat beds where everyone supported one another. Where no one judged and all shared a safe space to air their fears, worries, and pain.

I wanted to share so many things.

I wanted to apologise to Peter and make sure he was okay.

I wanted to talk to each jewel and prepare them for an uprising.

But Rachel guided me away from that wing and toward the back of the citadel instead.

She kept her fingers locked tight around mine, tugging me farther and farther from Henri. Down long, drafty corridors and around ominous bends. Tapestries gave way to stone blocks, and fancy sconces became bare lightbulbs by the time we popped into the working heart of this trafficker’s palace.

I felt as if I’d fallen through time as I blinked at the controlled chaos.

At least ten people bustled about in a huge kitchen. The ceilings were curved and low, soot-stained and weathered like similar manors I’d explored in England. Huge ovens and stovetops, massive chopping blocks with knife marks and rusty spots of blood. Big windows spilled sunlight onto racks of gleaming knives while the coppery glow of polished pots and pans hung from large hooks.

Unlike in the ancient eras, where whole hogs were spit-roasted in open fireplaces and pheasants were plucked in buckets by the back door, Victor’s kitchen blended modern with old.

Stainless steel tables cut the kitchen in half, some covered in flour while staff kneaded dough and layered huge trays full of intricate fruit pastries ready to go into the oven.

Someone stirred a giant cauldron, giving off steamy tendrils laced with tarragon and garlic. Another poured melted butter over a roasting pan full of chicken breasts.

A grey-headed man with a hair-net on and crow’s feet pinching weary brown eyes waved us away with a wooden spoon dripping with red sauce. “They’re all out back. Hurry now. Oh, and take these with you. You’re gonna need it.” Snapping his fingers at a stout elderly woman beside him, she nodded and grabbed a basket covered in a blue-and-white chequered tea-towel.

Darting around the mayhem in the kitchen and bringing with her a whiff of delicious chocolate, she passed me the basket. “Ensure every jewel has one. It will give you energy for the long day ahead.” Cupping Rachel’s chin, she sighed sadly. “Did that tonic help ease any of your pains, my dear?”

Rachel patted her hand and nodded. “It did. Thanks, May. Who knew dandelion roots and nettle could ease such things.”

“My grandmama taught me.” May gave her another unhappy look, her mousy hair lank from the kitchen’s humidity. “I can try to make you a concoction to help you lose the child...” She shrugged. “I can’t promise it will work, but...”

Rachel winced and cupped her belly. “Pretty sure I’ll lose it after how many times that bastard kicked my stomach this morning.” She flicked me a look. “If I survive today, then yes, I’ll take you up on the offer. Dr Belford also said she’ll help induce my losing it—as long as Victor doesn’t insist he wants it now. Fuck.” She shuddered. “The thought of having a baby in here, to him?” Fierce tears filmed her vibrant blue eyes. “I can’t. I literally can’t.”

“But if you raised them right...they might inherit it all and let us go.”

Rachel laughed under her breath. “You’re basing your freedom on a fantasy that wouldn’t come true for at least twenty years...if at all.” She shot me another look and dove her hand beneath the tea-towel of the basket I held.

Pulling out a thick muesli slice full of oats, fruits, treacle, and nuts, she nibbled on the end. “Besides, this is his kid we’re talking about. It’ll be raised to be even worse than its father. So no.” She swallowed hard. “Victor will destroy it. He’ll turn it into a creature not fit for this earth.” Her shoulders braced. “I’d rather die with innocence in my belly than give birth to evil.”

May rolled her shoulders and nodded. “Well, we’re here if you need anything.” Arching her chin at the open doorway leading outside, she added, “Keep an eye on Peter, will you, dear? He’s not doing too well.”

“Crap, is he still high?” Rachel lowered her voice, glancing at the cameras blinking red in the corner of the curved ceiling.

I stiffened. “C-Can they hear us?”

May gave me half a smile. “They say they can, but after years of working down here, I can tell you they don’t hear shit of what we talk about. I think the extraction fans, constant boiling, and other ambient noise acts like a shield.”

Interesting...