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Unfazed by the challenge of rustling up a meal, he strode to the cold room. He examined the various ingredients available while Sana’a, Kaxim and Kione followed.
‘Not quite the kingly welcome,’ Kione noted. ‘I expected at least a chef to help out.’
‘The fewer eyes we have, the better,’ Kaxim said. But please, Killen, let us cook. We can’t allow you to serve us.’
Killen shook his head. ‘De nada, I’m no pampered consort. I grew up fighting the elements with just my mother and me. We built our home of rocks and cooked, cleaned, and raised gardens in a fissured desert surrounded by marauding tribesmen. Tis not a hardship, believe me.’
‘You’re decent in the kitchen then?’ Sana’a said with a dry smile.
‘I’m not too bad,’ Killen rasped, his eyes lighting up. ‘Sit back, relax and let me.’
At his urging, the trio sat at one long table.
Killen tossed over three bottles. ‘Resembles brew.’
‘If it ain’t, we’ll soon find out,’ Kaxim growled.
They popped the corks, and Kione shrugged, taking a drag. ‘Decent. Tis a strong beer with crazy hops. It’ll do.’
Next, Killen went through all the ingredients in the cold room, pulling out bundles of fresh herbs and some greens.
He turned the krustallos powered stove on, chopped vegetables, and threw them into a pot. A medley of spices followed, and before long, the vessel was bubbling merrily while the trio laid out bowls and cutlery.
As they prepped, the mood shifted between Sana’a and the three Katánian men.
The tension that had been present since they’d all met earlier that day melted away.
It helped that Sana’a had a wealth of coarse Shotelai jokes to share.
‘There’s always a wild side to an innocent face,’ she confirmed when Kione’s eyes widened at one spicy riddle she shared.
‘You don’t say,’ Kione murmured.
‘Bad bitches like me can do things you can never imagine,’ she shot back with a smile. ‘Like Killen always grouses on about, guard your back.’
Before long, the delicious aroma of a thick casserole filled the kitchen as it simmered on the stove. Killen rolled out flour dough and assembled a flat, crusty bread. He also whipped up a simple but flavourful herb butter as an accompaniment.
When everything was ready, they crowded the table.
As soon as they took their first sample of the stew, Kaxim grunted and slurped an entire serving in one go.
Kione sighed into his bowl. ‘Delectable.’
Sana’a gave a little less swoon. Instead, she bestowed Killen a nod of approval accompanied by a salute of her beer bottle. ‘Not bad, Kíríga. You’re a natural in the kitchen.’
Killen’s eyes smouldered. ‘I’m a natural at a hella lot of things.’
Sana’a leaned into the moment. ‘I bet you are.’
Killen’s brow rose, and his hawkstone flashed. ‘Want to find out?’
Kaxim made out a strangled noise. ‘Are you two ‘bout to get it on and then pass out in intense post-coital ecstasy? Because nada, not here, now now. I’m eating.’
Kione guffawed, slapping his friend on the back. ‘Let lovers lie, Xim, don’t ride them. Unless you’re green-gilled and in need of some lovin’ yourself.’
‘Fokk off,’ the gruff Krypós warrior growled.
Killen and Sana’a’s gazes slid and clashed with each other.
