As Collin settled onto the bench, the full weight of his exhaustion hit him. His body ached, his muscles stiff and sluggish, but it was his mind that felt truly spent—drooping like a wilted weed under the midday sun. Even his heart, whichhad pounded relentlessly through the morning’s trials, was too drained to race.
But the food—the food—was exquisite.
River had been right; the guards ate well. The tender hunks of beef melted in his mouth like butter, rich and savory. He was used to tough venison and wild boar, the kind that required effort to chew, and even the expensive cuts sold at the butcher had never been of this fine quality. The vegetables were perfectly seasoned, fresh as if they had just been plucked from the garden. And the bread—soft, airy, made from finely ground flour—was a far cry from the coarse, grainy loaves he was accustomed to.
For a while, the friends ate in silence, their plates balanced on their knees. The only conversation was the soft clinking of silverware.
Unlike Nic, who was wolfing down his meal as fast as he could, Collin chewed slowly, letting the flavors unfold on his tongue, unwilling to admit this might someday feel normal. But no. He could never tire of eating this way.
Dragonfly leaned close, a wisp of her silky hair brushing against his cheek. His breath hitched at the fleeting touch.
“Do you know where Lekyi and Aries got off to?” she asked, her voice soft, meant only for him.
He used the noisiness around them as the perfect excuse to shift closer. Beyond the potent scent of sweat clinging to the air, beyond the rich aroma of their meal and the sharp bite of herbs, he caught the delicate trace of her perfume—light, floral, intoxicating.
He leaned in, their heads nearly touching, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Eric took them to the lake. I guess they’re either having lunch delivered or eating later.”
Dragonfly took a sip from her mug, her lips pressing delicately against the rim. Collin’s gaze lingered there, his pulse quickening.
“I heard your guard shouting at all of you every time I jogged past your section,” she murmured. “Ours yells too. He refused to let me take a breath when my leg started cramping up.”
Collin barely registered her words—his mind was too caught on the way her lips moved, the way her voice curled around each syllable. Now that his belly was full and his body had begun to recover, his thoughts drifted freely into dangerous territory. He wanted to speak to her, to sit beside her in silence, to exist in this moment without the weight of the world pressing in.
“Our guard calls us veal,” he said, forcing himself to focus. “He threatened to chain logs to our ankles and make us walk home that way.”
Dragonfly laughed softly.
Oh, heavens, how he loved that sound.
“The leggings we have to wear under the skirts are so hot and itchy. The fabric doesn’t breathe,” said Rhea.
The spell shattered.
Rhea’s voice cut into Collin’s blissful bubble like a jagged blade, dragging him back to reality with an unpleasant jolt.
He didn’t glare. He didn’t sigh. He simply swallowed his fantasy along with his last bite of beef and waited for another interruption.
From his other side, Clive chimed in, “But I’d happily bear the itchy clothes if it meant eating like this every day!”
Collin exhaled slowly, forcing himself to let go of the moment.
For now.
Nic dragged a piece of bread over his already empty plate, soaking up the last of the gravy. “Damn! This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my life, including Helen. It’s a tragedy Uri is missing out.”
“You all eat beef often?” Gravis asked. “I think I had roast beef once in my life.”
“Roast beef, sure—but certainly not of this quality,” Collin replied, shoving his damp hair out of his face.
Nic swallowed the last bite and leaned back with theatrical satisfaction. “Only time I’ve tasted beef this good was at the awards banquet.” He let the words hang, then turned casually to Gravis. “I was Helen’s escort, of course. Daughter of Venus and all.”
Gravis smirked in derision but kept his thoughts to himself, returning to his meal.
“I wonder if we’re allowed seconds,” Clive said, his eyes drifting hopefully toward the serving tables.
Collin studied the line. A few of the guards looked familiar—he was fairly certain they had already been through once. He glanced at Nic, weighing his options. “I’ll go if you go,” he said, testing the waters.
Nic didn’t hesitate. He shot to his feet, empty plate clutched in both hands. “Come on, gentlemen. If Spencer’s going to keep working us like draft animals, we might as well eat like them.”
