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“Order as much as you want.”
I glance up at him. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? It’s my treat.”
“You’re much too kind,” I reply and scan over the various dishes again. In the end I decide to have clam chowder and rum-glazed salmon and hand over the menu to Nolan.
When the waiter returns, Nolan insists I order more than just a soup and main, but I decline. I don’t want to take advantage of his generosity. And I feel awful for worrying that he would take advantage of my status as the Grandmage’s daughter.
Another waiter soon appears with red wine and pours it into our glasses. Once he leaves, we are alone again.
Nolan gazes at me with his vivid green eyes. I instinctively reach for the menu but find it has been taken away. With nothing to hide behind, I feel terribly exposed. I wonder whether Nolan even realizes just how intensely he’s staring at me.
I reach for my drink as an excuse not to meet his intent gaze. With nerves bubbling furiously through me, I almost knock over my glass. Thankfully, I steady it in time with my other hand and avoid spilling the wine all over the delicate lace tablecloth. But I suppose if I spilled it, it would interrupt Nolan’s stare. Then again, I’m not entirely certain I want him to stop, as uncomfortable as it makes me feel.
“I forgot to ask,” Nolan says, “how was the Trial of Mind yesterday?”
I set down my drink and fiddle with the frilly edge of the tablecloth. “All right, I suppose.”
“All right?”
“Well, I passed.”
“You don’t look very pleased by it.”
I sigh. “I almost failed.”
When I dare to glance up, I catch him frowning. “Why? What happened?”
“On the trial, I fought with another adept and was badly wounded. I only made it out in time because my friend carried me through the tunnels.”
“You were injured?” he asks.
“I collapsed at the end of the trial and have been in bed since yesterday morning.”
“I didn’t realize,” he said softly. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have dragged you here.”
“You didn’t drag me here. If I hadn’t been well enough to come, I would have asked Eliya to let you know. Though you might have then thought I was using my injuries as an excuse.”
His frown deepens. “I wouldn’t have thought that.”
Not knowing how to respond, I continue to fiddle with the tablecloth. Nolan silently watches me.
“Anyway,” I say, hoping to alleviate the tension, “tell me about yourself. All I know is that you’re from Dalry and own a tavern.”
“What would you like to know about me?”
“Hm, maybe about your family. What did they think about you moving to Nolderan and buying a tavern here?”
Nolan pauses. “My family is dead.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“It’s fine,” he replies. “My father died a few months ago, and as the only child, I inherited his entire estate. I decided to sell his property to have a fresh start here.”
“Oh,” I say, lowering my gaze.
Before he can reveal what happened to the rest of his family, the waiters appear with our soup.
