She stared at the empty space in the pantry. Her face still wore the relieved look of a person who was so close to the end of a long and horrible ordeal. Yes, her face still looked pleasant and calm, but her pulse was slowly speeding up. As her mind registered what she was seeing, fear touched her her and sent its uncomfortable heat rushing through her body. The edges of her eyes stung in warning of coming tears, which she would soon have to fight off.

And finally, after all of these sensations hit, the dreaded knowledge come to her. She was going to die.

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She had grown up in a poor family. There had never been enough money, and life was a constant struggle. Winters were hard and cruel, and summers were filled with grueling, backbreaking work in the heat that barely put fresh bread on the table.

For the longest time, she was sure that she would live the rest of her life in the same fashion. But then, luck befell her - or so it seemed at the time. There was political unrest in her kingdom, which resulted in a revolt against the King, led by his very own servants. Though the revolt was soon brought under control, some good did come out of it. Of the casualties that occurred, the death of the royal cook was the one that most impacted the King. By a week after the revolt, he was becoming desperate for someone to exclusively cook for him again.

As soon as she heard this, she went up the castle, hoping to win the job, or at least a spot on the cook's staff. But no one else had applied, and so she was immediately given the job. With it came fine lodgings, clean clothes, and all the food she could ever eat. It was accompanied by only one warning: if she should ever displease the King, she would be put to death.

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That had been a year ago, and up until now there had never been danger of displeasing the King. In fact, it was quite the contrary. The King absolutely loved the food she cooked, and often gave her special rewards as thanks.

But now, all of that was falling down around her.

Today was the King's birthday. For the celebration, he had requested the biggest, most exquisite, and consequently the most complicated meal to be made. She had been slaving away in the kitchen for almost ten hours now, preparing each dish slowly and carefully. She knew it had to be perfect. And now she had reached the final step. All she had to do was add in the last herb and she would be done, and safe. But she had been stupid, and neglected the importance of this last step. Because without this one herb, the main dish was nothing. It was tasteless, disgusting, not fit to be served to anyone. And she hadn't though to check...

So now she would die. Because dinner would begin in ten minutes, and she was all out of thyme.