She snatched it back quickly and grinned sheepishly at him. “Right. Well, I was going to ask you about that. You plan to stay longer, then?”
He frowned. “Of course! I’ve suggested all these plans to get you more guests. You don’t think I’d leave in the midst of this, do you?”
“Well, I know how eager you are to get back to your precious Skarrow Library…” she said, staring somewhere beyond him.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said, his heart beating very quickly indeed. “I know you were hoping to get rid of me.”
“Oh, Ashe was perhaps hoping to, yes. But—” She took his hand and pulled him toward the open door. “—I suppose I can tolerate you for a bit longer. Now, let’s get foraging!”
By all accounts, it should have been an unpleasant experience. The sky, covered in ferocious clouds of deep gray, did its best to squash the daylight. Searching among the stumps, fallen logs, and thickets was a mushy, soaking-wet, and chilly affair, made all the more difficult by the fact that the steel-colored mushrooms were almost impossible to see. They should have brought a lantern, or Ainsworth should have tried to muster up a basic lighting spell, but it never crossed their minds as they bounded through the forest and splashed across sodden ground that tried to steal their shoes with every squelch of mud. Yet when the mud-splattered pair returned a few handfuls of mushrooms later, it was not the thought of his success that made Ainsworth feel triumphant. No, instead it was the memory of Honey’s eruption of laughter when he had fallen, face-first, into a tremendous puddle, with leaves and forest litter strewn throughout. A frog had leapt from the disaster to land on his antlers just as Ainsworth shot to his feet. It clung there for some time, and Honey doubled over in laughter at the sight. He felt even more triumphant when she burst through the inn door, rain and mud splattering to the ground (much to Ruraidh’s dismay), and beckoned them all to come hear what had befallen them on their stormy adventure.
Chapter 14
Ainsworth could not helpbut hold his breath as he watched Alvea consider the dish in front of her. Tender chunks of wild boar, marinated in a luscious and warming sauce, swam in rich broth. Alongside the meat floated sliced spritshrooms, interspersed with trails of shredded leafy greens from Spin’s garden. It was, thought Ainsworth, his best work ever in the kitchen. He might not possess the finesse that Enach did when it came to presentation, and perhaps he was a bit heavy-handed with such a rich dish…but still, it looked and smelled wonderful. Indeed, even Spin, who was usually last to serve herself at dinner, was eyeing the bread basket, eager to tuck into her own bowl.
No matter. Ainsworth only cared what Alvea thought. She gave a sigh of what he thought was satisfaction before she plunged her spoon into the dish and took a mouthful.
“Oh, Ainsworth, this is magnificent!” came a voice from the other end of the table.
Okay, perhaps there was one other person Ainsworth had hoped would enjoy the meal.
Honey gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Really, I didn’t think you had it in you!”
“Thanks,” he replied sheepishly, his own plate untouched as his stomach swirled with nerves.
“I— It really is quite good, Ainsworth,” Ruraidh murmured frombehind his spoon. Bren and Quiddle were equally impressed, with the young lad already inquiring about seconds before he had barely finished his third spoonful.
“Well?” Ainsworth finally asked Alvea as she continued to make her way through the bowl.
She stared at it as though it were a text to be studied. “This is very well done, Gladsly. Very well done indeed.”
Ainsworth’s hands shot to his mouth in glee, and Quiddle gave a small, triumphant whoop in celebration.
“But I did not ask that you cookwell.I asked that you make me smile.” Alvea looked at him as his heart, previously up in his throat, sank. Hard. “This, as wondrous as it is—and a testament to your attention to detail—does not bring a smile to my face.”
“Oh, Alvea,” Honey sighed, waving her spoon in resignation. Small flecks of stew hit Quiddle in the face, who looked delighted by this addition to his meal. “Surely, by default, a meal well cooked makes you smile?”
“Not necessarily,” said Alvea, leaning back in her chair.
“I agree with Alvea. It’s great, but it doesn’t bring a smile to my face, either,” said Ashe, sitting across from Ainsworth.
“Well, not much does,” Ainsworth huffed.
“Oh? I suppose I’ll keep the good news to myself, then,” Ashe said as she folded her arms.
“I— What?” Ainsworth asked. The disappointment had started to settle heavily over him, darkening his mood. He reminded himself he must not take it out on others, however. “Sorry, Ashe. I was just— I was happy with the meal, and I thought…”
The guard, to his chagrin, chuckled. “I just wanted to say that I accept your assignment. The winds have already eased, and I can fly swiftly through the dark. After the meal, I will depart for the Post Server’s office with your request.”
“I— Really? Oh, Ashe, how marvelous. Thank you! But shouldn’t you rest first? Taking off in the morning would be perfectly fine,” he said, his mood suddenly soaring.
Ashe stared at him for a moment, and something in her facelightened before she responded: “That’s very considerate of you. But the sooner I leave, the sooner I return.”
“What made you change your mind?” Quiddle asked over the scraping sounds of spoon against bowl. Ainsworth realized that although he had sampled his meal throughout the cooking, he had yet to eat any of it. Even he was delighted by the rich, salty broth, the tender meat, and the melt-in-the-mouth mushrooms. It brought a smile to his own face, at the very least.
Ashe shrugged. “Honey said it would please her. So I’ll do it.”
Ah, so she would do it for Honey but not him. Extremely fair, he thought. Ashe was not his biggest fan, and for good reason. Still, he gave a sincere nod toward the wildeshifter. “Thank you greatly, Ashe.”
