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Here, Danielo was elbowed by Hawl and quickly smothered whatever he had been about to say. As it was likely something borderline treasonous about how he wished I ruled all of Eskira, I was infinitely grateful. I had heard similar things mentioned a few times already by some of the staff and had been quick to quell them.
“Seems rather rich for breakfast,” Draven observed. He glanced at me. “I’m not sure that Her Divine Radiance and I...”
“Oh, it is not for you!” Danielo cackled jovially and clapped his hands together, while I glared at my mate. “Though any creature would be fortunate indeed to sample them. But no, no. These creations are for the beasts. The cats. You know, the exmoors.”
“Venison stew and elk pâté for the exmoors,” Draven drawled. “Huh. Really, Hawl?” There was a smirk on his handsome face.
“She needs her strength,” the Bearkin growled, as if anticipating a challenge. “What you may see as delicacies, I see as nutrient-rich, healing grub.”
“She does, of course she does. I’m just...” Draven coughed. “Just impressed that you’re putting so much care into her recuperation.”
“Oh, the female exmoor is all they talk about, all they think about. Dare I say—” Danielo began.
“No, you may not,” Hawl growled. “Ridiculous for you to imply I might be so invested. Like a Bearkin with a cub. Absolutely ridiculous.” The Ursidaur slammed their paws down on their cooking station, then stalked off towards the nearest doorway.
Danielo watched the Bearkin go, bewildered. “What did I say?”
“I think Hawl believed we might be teasing them,” I explained.
“Pâté,” Draven murmured, shaking his head, the hint of a smirk remaining. “Pâté.”
“Hush up,” I hissed. “Or Hawl will soon be doing more than growling at you.”
Draven grinned. “I’d like to see them try. But very well, I’ll stop teasing.” He looked down at Medra who had been slurping happily on the bottle he was holding for her for the last few minutes. “I suppose Hawl is worried that... what? Their reputation as a bold warrior might be compromised if word got out they were bringing fancy feasts to a cat?”
“And as you’re in no position whatsoever to point fingers...” I noted.
Draven grinned. “Precisely.” He tapped a finger to his lips. “In fact, remind me to have a talk with them about balancing the responsibilities of parenthood with those of a seasoned warrior.”
“I’ll be sure to get right on that. Can we carry some of that stew out to Sunstrike?” I asked Danielo diplomatically, trying to change the subject and finally get out of the kitchen and out of everyone’s way. “Or the pâté if it’s ready?”
“Certainly, certainly. I’ll prepare a platter while you eat your own breakfast upstairs,” he assured me. “One of the scullions must surely accompany you and carry it, however. It may be quite heavy.”
I smiled. “I’m sure I can manage. I’m stronger than I look.”
After a hearty but pâté-free breakfast in a mostly empty dining hall, I found myself carrying the exmoor’s tray from the kitchen with Draven and Medra marching behind me as we made our way out of the castle. Danielo had been correct. The tray was rather heavy, but nothing I couldn’t manage on my own.
“I wonder if there’s insect powder in that pâté,” Draven muttered.
I wrinkled my nose. “What?”
“Just something Hawl suggested back on the ship when we were at sea. Specifically, dried cockroaches were what they had in mind.”
“The exmoors do seem to have a broad palate when it comes to food,” I said, thinking of how I was fairly certain I had caught Nightclaw eating a frog the other day. “But I’m not sure they’d stoop to cockroaches. Blech.”
Draven laughed. “Be warned. Hawl thinks they’re very nutritious. Bears are known to eat grubs and other insects, you know. They might be sneaking them into our food even now.”
“Surely Danielo would stop them,” I said, a little horrified.
Draven chuckled. “Danielo has far too big a case of hero-worship to stop Hawl. Perhaps our Bearkin friend will have a sweetheart before long.”
I snorted. “I highly doubt that. I don’t think Hawl is interested in, well, romance and that sort of thing.” I thought for a moment. “Not that we know much about the romantic life of Bearkins. Or what Hawl’s preferences are. Do they usually stick to their own kind?”
Draven shrugged. “There aren’t many of them left. Perhaps they can’t be so choosy.”
“Well, whatever you do, don’t you dare ask them, or worse, tease them about Danielo,” I threatened. “Let’s just be happy Hawl’s made a new friend and mind our own business.”
“Yes, my Serene Sovereign,” Draven said with false meekness. “Whatever you say, Your Royal Radiance.”
