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“Cook gave you a double portion in gratitude.” She pleated her apron between her fingers.
“Your portion?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Food is for paying customers, not hired help.”
“Then what do you eat?”
Her shoulders hunched slightly. “Whatever scraps I can catch before they go in the compost pile.”
My sense of unease, which had lifted when Yurtin had left, returned in full force. Misha ate her meals in the kitchen. Walking through the kitchen to haul out the refuse, I witnessed more than once her consuming a plate of cottage pie similar to what I ate nightly. The cook, the tavern keeper, and his wife—all of them ate the same food as the customers.
“Everyone else is compensated with food and pay. Why are you treated differently?”
Rue bowed her head slightly and twisted her hands in her apron. “Master Hobb’s contract with the foundling home specifies all my wages go to the home, food included. The home collects from Master Hobb every seventh day.”
“Rue!” Misha called from the kitchen door. “Master Hobb said to get mopping.”
“But there will be more customers,” I protested. The tavern didn’t close its doors for another two hours.
Misha rolled her eyes and shrugged before pulling her head back into the kitchen.
“It is just as well.” Rue smoothed out her apron, but the creases created by her twisting remained. “The few regulars we will get will not create enough mess to require a complete mopping again.” She left to gather her mopping supplies, leaving me to my meal.
Somehow, I found that I had lost my appetite. Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest and watched Rue work the mop across the worn floorboards. She was a tiny woman, slender and petite, with far too much hair, which I suspected she used as a shield against observers.
Sweeping finished, she started rearranging the empty tables and chairs. Familiar with the routine, I rose from my place and caught a chair as she lifted it onto a tabletop. Extracting it from her hands, I set it on the table for her. “Let me do that.”
“What?” Her mossy-green eyes widened in shock. “But it is my task.”
“I am finished, and you need food.” I indicated my half-eaten plate as I reached for the next chair. “If you start now, you can probably finish it before I get all the chairs up. Then Master Hobb won’t know a thing.”
She hesitated. Hunger warred with fear in her expression. “I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” I asked, reaching for the next chair. “The work will be done, and you will only eat what I offered you.”
“But—” Her stomach growled loudly. Cheeks flushed, she regarded me. “It is your food.”
“Which I am giving to you. Now, go eat.” I slowly flipped the chair in my hands and lowered it onto the tabletop.
She finally gave in and rushed to my place. Sliding into the chair, she started shoveling food into her mouth.
“Slow down,” I admonished. “Don’t make yourself sick. It won’t do you any good if it all comes up again.”
Rue paused and chewed more slowly, watching me work while she did.
“Why?” she asked suddenly.
“Why what?” I moved to the next table and started swinging the chairs up onto the tabletop, careful not to move at full speed, but also not to dawdle too much. She needed time to eat, but I didn’t want to bring trouble for not getting the task completed in a timely manner.
“Why are you doing this?” She gestured to include the food and the room.
“You need food. I have extra food. It only makes sense to share it with you.”
She studied me in silence as I continued to work. “You are a strange man, Kent.”
“I have been accused of worse.” Little did she know, I was no man. My blood was fae, full and true, according to my mother.
By setting up a fair exchange, we remained unbound. Rue was fed, assuaging my conscience, and I did a bit of work on her behalf, so she didn’t get punished. The balance wasn’t perfect, but we both benefited, keeping us free to walk away afterward.
