“He shouldn’t deal with people,” Jace said.

“Maybe not.” The man sighed. “I’ll reprimand him.”

“Okay,” Jace said, straightening his shirt self-consciously.

“Let me make it up to you,” the man said. “How about some frosted sugarbread? Just made it this morning.”

“That’s actually what I was going to order,” Jace said, returning to his seat. “I’d like that.”

“Four slices, on the house,” the man said. “Sorry for any trouble. Would you like me to wait on you personally?”

“The other slave is fine,” Jace said. “Will. And my friend needs more soup. Baldy made off with his portion.”

“Of course,” the owner said. “I’ll see to it.” He retreated to the kitchen.

“You have a way with people,” Cole said.

Twitch coughed, perhaps covering a laugh.

“What?” Jace asked innocently. “I know how slaves are supposed to act. I went easy on him!” He lowered his voice. “If I had ever treated a free man that way, I would have gotten ten lashes!”

“Did you have to dump the soup?” Cole asked.

“I sure did,” Jace said, looking regretfully at his hat. “You saw how he treated that kid. I know his type. Rotten to the core. I’ve worked under guys like him. A bad slave can be worse than a bad owner. He had it coming.”

“You ruined your hat,” Mira said.

“Maybe I can clean it,” Jace said. He lowered his voice again. “It’s the first thing I ever bought. Slaves take what we’re given. We can’t purchase anything. The hat was perfect. Something nobody would have given me. Made me sad to ruin it.”

Will emerged from the kitchen. He gave everyone a small loaf of dark bread and a slice of sugarbread, then placed a new bowl of soup in front of Twitch. Cole thought the sugar-bread looked kind of like a cinnamon roll.

“Thanks, Will,” Jace said. “Have you ever tried sugarbread?”

Will smiled and gave a nervous chuckle. “No, sir. It’s expensive. It’s not for the help.”

“There was a time when I’d never tried sugarbread,” Jace said. “I thought it looked really good. But my . . . mother wouldn’t let me try any.” He took a bite, briefly closing his eyes as he chewed it. “It’s delicious. I want you to have half of mine.”

Will glanced toward the kitchen. “I couldn’t.”

“You have to,” Jace said, tearing his piece of sugarbread in half and holding out the larger piece. “Otherwise I’ll complain. It’s an order. Cram it in.”

After another glance back at the kitchen, Will took a bite. His eyes lit up. “I’d always wondered how it tasted,” he said.

“Good, right?” Jace asked, munching his own piece.

“Amazing,” Will said, gleefully taking more bites. “I almost pinched some once. It just smelled so good. Tastes even better. Thanks.” He stuffed the rest into his mouth, rubbed his lips, then wiped his hands on his apron.

“Well done,” Jace approved. “You’d better get back to the kitchen.”

“Thanks so much,” Will said before hurrying away.

“Is that your first sugarbread?” Mira whispered.

“You guessed it,” Jace said, finishing his piece. “Freedom is delicious.”

Will returned with a bunch of skewered chicken and a plate of bacon. He placed chicken in front of Cole, Twitch, and Jace. “I told Mr. Dunford we should give you some chicken,” Will confided to Jace.

“You’re the best,” Jace said.

“Will,” Mira said. “My cousin has a rash. We’ve heard of a woman in town who is good with herbs.”

“The herb woman?” Will asked. “Sure, she lives in a cottage on the far side of the bridge. Folks say she’s the best.”

“Thanks, Will,” Mira said. “We’ll probably pay her a visit.”

Chapter 30

HERBS

Cole felt relieved as he climbed back into the autocoach. He had worried that more drama might arise from the humiliated slave, but at the end of the meal, Mira settled up with Mr. Dunford, and the owner offered a final apology as they walked out.

“After going over the bridge, turn left down the first lane we reach,” Mira said to Bertram, repeating directions Will had shared. “We’re looking for a cottage with a walled garden.”

The autocoach rolled forward.

Mira turned to Jace. “If you want to keep traveling with me, you have to fix your attitude.”

“Me?” Jace exclaimed. “That guy was a jerk!”

“You started unnecessary trouble,” Mira said. “We’re lucky the owner sided with us. Mistreating another man’s slave can be taken as a personal insult. Mr. Dunford didn’t know who was outside in the autocoach. He didn’t want to risk crossing somebody important. Otherwise things might have gone the other way.”

“The slave was way out of line,” Jace maintained.

“He made some rude comments,” Mira said. “Have some empathy. The man probably hates his job. He wasn’t excited to wait on four spoiled kids on holiday.”

“Don’t forget, I was a slave,” Jace said. “I know how it works. They don’t get to treat us like that. Ever. And it wasn’t just us. You saw him abusing Will.”

“I get that you had reasons,” Mira said. “But just because you can punish somebody doesn’t always mean you should. Have some restraint. Show some class.”

Jace scowled. “What’s classy about letting people trample all over you? Letting them act like bullies? You guys are lucky to have somebody along with a backbone!”

“You have courage,” Mira said. “I question your judgment. We don’t want to lose the war because of needless battles. Show some patience. Don’t stir things up out of vanity. Use your experience as a slave to make you more lenient, not harsher.”

Jace exhaled angrily. “I can’t believe a princess is lecturing me on what I should learn from being a slave.”

“I was marked as a slave long before you were born,” Mira said. “It’s been my cover for more than sixty years.”

“Exactly,” Jace said. “Your cover. You knew it was an act. You had people looking out for you. I get it was hard. It wasn’t palaces and parties. But don’t tell me what I should learn from my life. You don’t survive by acting weak. That makes you a victim.”