Page 30 of Lord of Misrule

“What the hell.” He spit the bean out into his hand. “What is this? A shell from a nut?”

“Lord Tolin,” called out his squire walking up to join them. “No one seems to have found the bean. Oh, look, there it is. You’ve found the bean in your cake! Doesn’t that make you the Bean King then?”

“Yes. I suppose it does,” said Tolin, studying the bean.

Daegel was right behind Jarvis, stretching his neck to see what was going on. “Hey, you can’t be the Bean King, Tolin. That is a game devised for peasants to get that privilege.”

“Yes, I believe he is right,” said Kit, feeling her heart drumming so loud in her ears that she wondered if they heard it too. “I would be more than happy to put the bean into another batch of cakes.” She held out her hand for it. Tolin started to give it to her, but at the last minute he pulled his hand away and closed the bean into his fist.

“Nay, nay. I think I’ll keep this after all.”

“What? Why?” Kit felt her world come crashing down around her.

“Well, I am in charge of the games during Christmastide, so I can make or even change the rules if I feel like it.”

“Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” said Kit. “Won’t everyone be disappointed?”

“Nay, why would they? Actually, I think it would be a lot more fun this way. Yes, I think I will bend the rules after all.”

He looked up and called out so everyone could hear him. “Attention, everyone! This year, anyone, including nobles, can win the title of Bean King. And that said, I have just found the bean in my cake.” He held it up high so everyone could see.

A soft lull of talking and comments filled the hall. Kit could tell that the commoners were not at all pleased by Tolin’s decision.

Rook rushed over, stepping around several servers along the way. “Tolin, nay. What are you doing? This is a game for the peasants, not the nobles.”

“Well, I can’t help it if I won.” He looked at the bean and chuckled. “I guess my winning streak is back.”

“Put it back,” said Rook through his teeth. “You cannot be the winner of this game. It isn’t right.”

“He’s correct,” said Kit, her heart still drumming against her ribs.

“I won fair and square,” said Tolin with a shrug. “Besides, I decide the games and the rules for Christmastide. I say this is the way we will do it this year.”

Jarvis grabbed two tankards of ale from the tray of a passing serving girl, giving one to Tolin. “Then let’s all drink to this year’s Bean King, Lord Tolin.”

“Lord of Misrule,” Tolin bellowed. “That is the proper title. Now, let’s all drink and dance and have some fun. That is what this year’s Lord of Misrule orders you all to do.”

Kit slowly slunk away, making her way back to the kitchen. Of all the rotten luck, why did Lord Tolin have to be the one to get the bean instead of Oliver? Her plan had been perfect, but that man just ruined everything. Why couldn’t he have stayed up at the dais where a noble belonged?

“It looks like your winning streak truly has returned, Lord Tolin,” she heard his squire say as she left the great hall.

“Yes. I’m back,” shouted Tolin with a chuckle. “Hail to the winner—the Lord of Misrule.”

Tolin couldn’t believe his good luck. He raised his tankard and drank with his friends, then attended the group by the fire as the servants brought in the Yule log. It was a piece of the leftover log from last Christmas, to be burned for good luck. More logs would be added to it, and the fire would keep being fed and burning bright until the end of Twelfth Night. Then, a piece of the new Yule log would be saved to use next year for good luck as well.

“Tolin, your cake was up at the dais,” his sister Raven told him. “What were you even doing down on the floor, and why were you eating cake with the peasants?”

“I was looking for King. My dog keeps disappearing lately. That’s when I saw Kit enter the great hall with a plate with one lone cake atop it. She said she had to deliver it before she could get any food to eat. I was only trying to help her out, since I didn’t want her to go hungry. So I ate the cake, enabling her to get back to the kitchen quicker.”

“She only had one piece of cake to deliver?” Jarvis made a face. “Why only one? The servants always have huge platters filled with desserts to hand out.”

“That’s true,” said Tolin. “I suppose it was a little odd. Mayhap it was the last of what was left.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” said Jarvis. “I mean, I saw Oliver, your new stableman, come out and sit down just before this happened. He was waving to Kit to bring the cake over to him. Mayhap that is what she was doing.”

“You saw what?” Tolin’s smile faded. “Are you sure it was Oliver? That is her brother-by-marriage.”

“I’m positive.” Jarvis nodded. “I know who he is. He was in the kitchen most of the night. I saw him there earlier. I guess Kit wanted him to eat the cake out in the great hall for some reason. I’m surprised Kit took the time to deliver it herself when she has been so busy baking. I would have thought she’d have the boy deliver it instead.”