Free Conquests: Hearts Rule Kingdoms by Emily Murdoch

new innovations that his lord had brought – his gratitude stifled slightly by his admission that a Norman seemed to have a good idea of how a kitchen should be.
    After that day, Avis spent most of her time down in the kitchen. She befriended the women there, hearing tales of dirty men, crying children, and laughing at their stories about managing a home. The men there considered her a daughter, and taught her tricks that improved her bread immensely, and one elderly woman explained herb lore to her that she had never before fully understood.
    A week passed, and Avis began to feel that she belonged somewhere. Her mother had always worked with their kitchen staff – she never thought that it was beneath her, and her father had always chuckled that the kitchen was the place that both his wife and daughter would rather be. Here, in this kitchen, even though she was hundreds of miles from home, Avis felt at peace. That she was part of a family.
    When not in the kitchen, Avis had begun to transform the cold and uninviting manor into a true home for herself – ignoring the needs or desires of Melville, which she did not know. Each room was individually attended to and cared for, bringing light and laughter into every space. Orders were made to York, where some of the best merchants had gathered, and every day new deliveries brought new joy. The servants identified in her someone who would care for the place, and did everything that they could to aid her. The only real complaints were from Melville’s men, who did not appreciate the almost constant disruption as she re-laid rushes and threw corridors into darkness as the windows were slowly replaced.
    But the majority of Avis’ time was spent in the kitchen. She lived in constant fear that Melville would discover that she had sought shelter with people that she knew he considered beneath her, and definitely below him. Being Anglo-Saxon was to be a second class citizen in this new Norman land, and to be Anglo-Saxon and poor was almost a crime. He would not be able to appreciate the kindness that these people had given her. But her happiness radiated through her into the whole manor, and she began to finally treat this place as her home. Her alterations did not go unnoticed.
    “This bread.” Melville one night snapped at a servant. “Who made it?”
    Avis froze, dripping sauce as her eyes caught Edith’s, the girl that Melville had barked at.
    “Me. My lord.” Edith managed to stutter out in Norman. Melville’s eyes narrowed, and with a hand waved her out of the room.
    Avis breathed a sigh of relief, but then Melville turned to her.
    “Avis.”
    “Yes, my lord?” Their interactions had been so few over her first week fully established as his wife that she was surprised at his speaking to her.
    “You have been making many changes here.”
    Avis braced herself. She knew that this conversation was coming, and she was secretly glad that he had chosen to do it in public.
    “And why not indeed?” Avis was not going to be bullied. “This place needed them.”
    In this hall, unlike her previous home, the majority of the servants ate with their master, at lower tables than him admittedly, and with less extravagant food. There were chuckles along the table from anyone who could follow the foreign Norman language that Melville and Avis were using. They were proud of their new mistress, and knew that she would not let their Norman lord off lightly.
    Melville bristled with anger – and embarrassment.
    “Is my home not fit for your ladyship?”
    Avis swallowed a mouthful of food, determined not to rise to the bait that Melville dangled in front of her.
    “Perfectly,” she declared clearly. “But it is my home now too.”
    “You belong to me now!” Melville almost shouted, and his dark eyes met Avis’. He could see her enjoyment of his temper, and it did nothing to lessen it. Muffled laughs up and down the hall caused his temper to deepen, and rage bristled with every