As winter deepened, the war in the north intensified. Swarms of starving refugees began to press against the capital’s gates.
But the King refused to let them in. The city gates were barred, leaving the desperate masses to beg and starve in the shadow of the city walls.
Trista set up her soup kitchen inside the city. Dressed in an ethereal gown, her hair in an elaborate style, she basked in the praise of the city’s resi-
dents.
Of course, few people inside the walls were actually starving. They mostly came to receive a blessing from the benevolent future queen, and her
stall was always thronged with people.
- Lonthe other hand changed into common clothes and
e city walls.
12:34)
1, on the other hand, changed into common clothes and opened my soup kitchen outside the city walls.
It was more dangerous, but seeing the fields littered with the starving and the dead, it was impossible not to act.
The moment I set up, a few well–dressed men approached. They were minor officials tasked.
keeping the refugees from rioting.
The leader dipped a ladle into my pot and took a taste. “Pah!” he spat. “What is this? There’s sand in it!”
He eyed me suspiciously, but I calmly continued spooning the gritty gruel into bowls.
Every single bowl had sand mixed in.
Hearing this, the other officials backed away. They weren’t rich, but they weren’t desperate enough to eat sand. They could always get a bowl of
cheap, clean porridge at the other charity stall inside the city.
Once they left, the real refugees began to crowd around.
They didn’t care if there was sand or dirt in the food. It was hot, and it was sustenance.
I could still hear the officials muttering nearby.
That’s the Princess, Cassia Valerius. The Lord Treasurer’s daughter. Her family has always been like this. Corrupt and stingy. Can you believe she‘
s mixing sand into charity soup?”
“Gods, they’re drowning in money and they’re still this cheap. Nothing like the lady inside the city.”
“The one inside is better, but can you get any of her soup? No. We’re stuck out here guarding these wretches. Haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.
“No wonder they say the Princess is nothing compared to Lady Trista. Who puts sand in soup for the poor?”
I ignored them, ladling out soup from dawn until dusk, and still, it wasn’t enough.
The number of refugees was growing.
If the war in the north didn’t end soon, this place was going to explode.
A knot of dread tightened in my stomach.
My brother had been gone for so long, and not a single letter had arrived.
As I was packing up to return to the city, I saw a rider on a lathered horse thundering towards the palace–an urgent dispatch. The rider’s banner
was trimmed with white, the color of mourning.
