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had been said, Heria complained, about dinner, and all the baby sisters were starting to whine and cry. Knowing full well that his sisters couldn’t organize dinner to save their lives, Jerin came down from his bedroom to take control of the kitchen.
     
    Heria had only one pot on the stove, just breaking into a boil. It contained peeled and sliced potatoes. The youngest were divided between raiding the pantry and peering in at the goose, trying to decide if it was done.
    “Is that enough potatoes?” Heria asked, chasing girls out of the pantry.
    Jerin dodged the little girls to consider what they had on hand for dinner. “How many are in Princess Rennsellaer’s party?”
    “Fifteen. Ten privates, two lieutenants, a captain, and the two princesses,” Heria reported. “All of the guard are fathered out of the military cribs—Order of the Sword tattoos range from second generation to sixth. One of the privates is sister to the younger lieutenant; otherwise, there are no other sibling pairs. All but Princess Odelia are currently armed with a pistol, a brace of knives, and a saber. They also have standard-issue rifles and bayonets, but those are geared with their personal items upstairs.”
    “They each have a hundred rounds of rifle ammunition, and only fifty rounds of pistol ammo.” Blush’s tone indicated she thought it was a paltry supply. “They have no food supplies nor grain. Each woman has a personal purse, totaling sixty-seven crowns, eighty-six gils, and fifteen quince between them, but they’re not carrying a cashbox.”
    “Blush!” Jerin hissed in surprise. “You didn’t search their gear?”
    Blush looked at him with surprise and hurt. “They won’t be able to tell.”
    Leia, who was younger than Blush by an hour, and twin-close as a result, added in, “Princess Rennsellaer has a royal seal in her traveling desk, and Captain Tern has hers secured against spies.”
    It was difficult to tell which desk created the most interest. Immediately plans were laid for a series of reconnaissance missions to see said desks by the rest of the youngest siblings, Doric included.
    “No!” Jerin stated firmly. “You will not invade the princesses’ privacy or that of their guards any further. They’re guests in this house, and they will be treated with respect.”
    “Oh, pooh,” Heria risked grumbling, but the rest held their tongues in the face of his glower.
    “And that’s plenty of potatoes,” Jerin told Heria.
    Fifteen hungry women. There would be no leftover goose for lunch tomorrow. The potatoes would make things stretch, but one could eat only so many before getting bored. “Get a bushel of sweet yams scrubbed up, and we’ll put them in the oven after the goose comes out.” He handed out gathering baskets. “The rest of you, out to the garden. Pick a full basket of peas, and cut a quarter row of asparagus—make the stems long as possible.”
    Summer hurried into the kitchen just as he set the goose out. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him. “What are you doing?” she whispered fiercely, throwing a look toward the front of the house, where the royal party gathered in the parlor.
    “I am cooking dinner.” Jerin picked up the tray of now scrubbed and pierced sweet yams and slid them into the empty oven. “Roasted goose, sage dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, blanched asparagus, boiled peas, sliced winter apples, cheese, fresh bread, butter, and yams.”
    “They’re going to see you and the boys!” Summer cried.
    “Not if they don’t come into the kitchen,” Jerin said. “And you middle sisters handle the serving in the dining room.”
    If Summer’s hair had been longer than the military crop, it seemed she would be pulling it out by now. “How are we going to keep the royal guard out of the kitchen? They’re probably going to check the food for poison.”
    Jerin got out their largest platter and dual meat forks. “Like we keep poison on hand to kill off visiting