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When Olivier had bound them with blood, he hadn’t thought about talking. But Gahariet seemed more open.
“The rest of the day, and then I can go?”
“You can go now,” Gahariet said, “but we’d like to spend more time with you.”
“Just today, then.”
“Sounds good. Are you comfortable in your robe?”
She looked down. The cloth was thin, but it was comfortable.
“I’m just fine.”
“Then let us show you around the castle.”
Gahariet left the room. She trailed him uncertainly. She’d never been inside of a Drakan castle before.
There was a very musty smell, as if nobody ever dusted in here, although she knew that they had dozens of Yore servants. There were Drakan castles with hundreds of Yore servants.
If they had a castle, they were Thrones, the top level of prince-hood. The Drakans had several different degrees of prince-hood before you got diluted enough to be just a noble.
Each of the families had different sections of Vestra to rule. The planet was more than large enough for each Drakan prince to have his own area.
The Thrones especially had ancient and modern treasures tucked away in their stronghold. She had to admit, as they slowly made their way through the entire castle, that she wanted to look for the jewels, ancient coins, golden statues, and precious minerals that they had in their hoard.
But she didn’t get anywhere near them. Even though she was a guest in their home, it was hard to be in the same place as so much wealth and not take anything. Even one golden cup would be able to feed them for a year.
But now she could smell food. Her stomach grumbled. She put her hand over her lower stomach, totally embarrassed.
“We should’ve fed you. You’ve been asleep for a while. You should’ve said something.”
Olivier abruptly changed course. The smell of food grew stronger.
Suddenly, she was in heaven.
She could see food everywhere. There were at least a dozen people in the kitchen, maybe even more.
“You’ll have to wait until dinner for the fancy stuff, but we can have a simple meal right now.”
Olivier grabbed a loaf of fresh bread and a little bowl of butter from the cold storage.
“How about a little wine?”
“Isn’t it a little early in the day?” Phuong didn’t know much about drinking.
“Wine with every meal!” Olivier poured some wine into wine glasses.
They had simple, crusty bread with some divine garlic-flavored butter.
“What’s in this?”
“Garlic and cinnamon.”
Phuong choked. “What?”
“It’s not an intuitive combination, but it’s dynamite. Before the Draka came to Vestra, we didn’t understand how to use cinnamon in savory dishes. The Yore use it, and honestly, this butter is from one of our servants.”
Phuong felt the food sit in her stomach like a stone. She was eating the product of the Drakan overlords’ oppression of her people, the Yore.
