He turned his attention back to the fire, prodding it with the poker. “Well, you’ll get the hang of it soon enough. Maybe I’ll teach you to cook as well, and you’ll be roasting eggs in no time.”
That earned him a laugh and Vasily relaxed again. “Maybe we’ll start with bread and cheese.”
“Maybe.” Mother stood from where he’d been crouched in front of the hearth, his knees cracking, and put his hands in the small of his back, leaning back and stretching his muscles. Vasily made a small noise, and Mother turned to find him staring fixedly into the flames, his cheeks pink. Good. It meant the cottage must be getting warm.
He was oddly reluctant to leave, but he didn’t have any reason to linger. “Well, I’ll be off. Don’t forget His Majesty and His Highness are riding early in the morning.”
“I won’t,” Vasily said, swallowing and still staring at the flames. “Thank you for the coals.”
“You’re welcome, lad. Come and see me any time you need warmed up.” Vasily made a choked sound at the same moment Mother realized exactly how that had sounded. “Forcoals,I mean. For the fire.”
Vasily finally turned to look at Mother, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course.”
Mother gave a nod and left before he embarrassed himself further.
* * *
The next morning there was a knock at Mother’s door just as he was dressing. It was far too early for visitors, and his first thought was that there was some sort of emergency, but when he opened the door, shirt still unlaced and trousers untied, it was to find Vasily on his doorstep, cheeks pink from the cold. He was carrying the bucket Mother had left there the night before and nestled inside was a cluster of glowing coals. Vasily held it out as if seeking approval. “I did it!” he said, his excitement obvious. “I kept it going!”
Mother ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, and Vasily looked so pleased with himself he couldn’t help but smile, caught up in his enthusiasm. “Good job, lad!”
Vasily continued to hold the bucket out.
Mother reached out, confused. “And you’ve brought these to me because…”
Vasily rolled his eyes. “Well, to replace the ones I used, obviously. That’s just good manners.”
Mother bit back a smile. “They’re coals, Vasily. You can keep them. I have plenty.”
Vasily pulled the bucket back towards him hesitantly. “You’re sure?”
“I promise.” Mother stepped aside and extended a hand. “Come inside and check for yourself.”
Vasily stepped over the threshold, looking around the room with ill-disguised curiosity. “Oh, it’s bigger than mine.”
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” Mother said—and where hadthatcome from? It had almost sounded like he was…flirting. Except Mother didn’t flirt.
He decided he’d blame the early morning and the fact he hadn’t eaten yet, and hope Vasily didn’t notice.
Luck was on his side. Vasily was still caught up in looking around as he carried the bucket over to the hearth and set it down. His nose twitched at the scent of food wafting from the pot where Mother had set his breakfast to cook earlier while he’d been getting dressed.
Mother tied the laces on his shirt and trousers and pulled two bowls off the shelf, dishing up a scoop of porridge into each. After a moment’s thought, he fished out a small jar of honey from the cupboard and drizzled a generous dollop over the top of both bowls, setting them down on the table. “You might as well join me for breakfast, save yourself the walk up the hill.”
“Please.” Vasily gave one of his sunshine smiles and sat at the table. “Oooh, this smells good.”
Mother fetched them spoons and settled across from Vasily. It was nice, having company while he ate, and Mother didn’t even mind when their knees banged together under the small table.
Soon enough the bowls were empty, and Vasily hummed contentedly as he licked the last traces of honey off the back of his spoon. “There’s more if you want,” Mother offered.
Vasily shook his head. “I have to get the horses saddled up. The royal couple will be here for their ride soon enough. But thank you. It was nice.” He tapped the side of his bowl with his spoon in an irregular rhythm before saying, “Um, maybe…maybe we could do this again? If you taught me how, I could even cook for you. We could take turns.”
The idea was more appealing than it had any right to be, and Mother found himself nodding. “We could do that. You’d have to learn to boil water first, mind.”
Vasily grinned. “I could work my way up to a roast egg.”
Mother laughed loudly, and warmth settled in his chest. It would be nice to have Vasily visiting regularly, with his ready laughter and easy smile, and Mother was confident he’d soon have Vasily making porridge with the best of them. Even if Vasilywascurrently as much of a disaster in the kitchen as he claimed, Mother had spent years training a variety of stable boys and grooms in equine care, and he liked to think he was good at teaching.
Surely he could teach one man to boil an egg?
