She slowly turned her head and stole a quick, suspicious glance at Damon. She looked at his rolled-up sleeves. She looked at his bare forearms. She saw a tiny, faint spot of white flour near his elbow.
Camilla thought to herself, her internal voice bewildered.
"What is he doing in the kitchen?" Camilla thought, staring at his arm. "He is a military commander! He fights wars! He does not cook! And they actually allowed him in there?"
Her instincts flared to life.
"Something unusual must definitely be going on," she concluded in her mind. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at the food in front of her. "Men like him do not just wake up and decide to bake pastries. This is a trap."
The maids finished serving the food. They placed a small plate in front of Camilla. The plate held a piece of warm bread, some sweet fruit, and a slice of roasted meat.
Damon watched her suspicious face. He gestured his hand politely toward her plate.
