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He shot me a sharp look, then stood and crossed to the kitchen table. “I’m going to focus on the important work of making the port sauce.”
As he ground up the berries, he seemed rattled. I turned all the way around in the bath to get a better view of him. I couldn’t help it. I really liked looking at him.
“While I’m sure the port sauce requires all the concentration your pretty little head can muster,” I said, “you will be needing royal offspring. Who else is going to grow up and slaughter the sacrificial victims at Beltane if you don’t produce an heir?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You know, it really has been a very long time since we’ve sacrificed one of your kind at Beltane. The clans would be delighted.”
“A demon would be perfect. Horrible creatures. Can I recommend Morgant for that role?”
A smile flickered over his lips. “I think he is the queen’s son. Her remaining son, anyway.”
“That was my impression.”
I finished the last of the berries. By now, the bath had made me pink. “Turn around, Your Highness. I’m getting out.”
He did as I asked, averting his eyes.
I hadn’t found any towels, but I had unearthed an old wool blanket, so I dried myself off, then pulled on a white button-down shirt that reached halfway down my thighs and a pair of tiny blue shorts. I hadn’t been able to find any trousers that would fit me.
Once I was dressed, I thought I should help thedinner effort, so I pulled plates from the old shelves and slid them onto the table. “And I’m pouring the port. And whatever is going on with that pheasant, we’re eating it, because the berries are gone, and the pheasant would taste better than your muscly flesh.”
With a sigh, Torin started to pull the pheasant off the metal rod. “You must take care not to eat too quickly. After days of starvation, if you overindulge, you’ll make yourself sick.”
Golden light wavered around the cozy room, and I crossed to the table to pour port into glasses. “Look at us, all domestic, just a Seelie king with a fondness for human sacrifice and his demonic enemy. Breaking bread together like a couple of old pals.”
Outside, thunder rumbled across the landscape.
“You’re really hung up on the human sacrifice thing, aren’t you?”
“Kind of a quirk of mine.” I turned around, and to my absolute delight, I was staring at a perfectly roasted pheasant, the crisp skin a rich buttery color. Actual drool dripped from my lips, and I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth. “Because of this, all is forgiven with the human sacrifice.”
Torin slid the bird onto the table, and I hurried over to the wooden bench.
At one point, Ididhave manners, but they’d died in the cell several days ago, so I simply ripped off one of the thighs and started gnawing it like a caveman.
“Slowly, little demon.”
Never in my life had I tasted anything so divine. This was the food of the gods, rich but delicatelyspiced. Where did Torin learn to cook? I would have imagined a king would never have to bother. Of course, he really did seem to like looking after people, and cooking was the perfect way to do it.
The heat seared my tongue, but I couldn’t get enough.
“Ava,” Torin said quietly in a warning.
“Fine.” I forced myself to slow down and took a sip of the port. I sighed. “It’s almost like being home, isn’t it?” But something rang false about it, like I was trying too hard to ignore everything that had happened in the dungeon. And with the words out of my mouth, all the horrors of the past week slammed back into my thoughts. The utter lack of control. The pain of my infected shoulder, and the wild desperation of thinking I was dying alone, that no one would come for me. Even if I’d been born here and this little cottage was cozy, this horrible realm was nothing like home. Sharp talons of homesickness found their home in my heart, piercing me until I hardly wanted to eat anymore. I stared at the table, trying to school my expression. Where was that cheeriness I’d been able to muster a few minutes ago?
“What do you usually eat in that bar?” Torin sipped his wine. “The one where I met you? Is that a regular spot for you?”
I blinked at him, struck by the banality of the question when my thoughts had spiraled off on such a wild tangent. When I caught his eye, I had the impression that he’d been able to precisely read the look on my face or had detected the slight crack in my voice when I’dsaidhome. And he must have realized how desperately I craved normalcy at that moment.
Shocking, how easily he could read what I needed.
“Yes,” I answered at last. “I went there a lot with Shalini. Taco Tuesdays, especially. But I was usually broke, so I got nachos. They were cheaper.” Never in my life would I have guessed my voice would one day crack with emotion at the wordnachos, but here we were.
“Nachos,” he repeated slowly. I had a feeling he had no idea what they were, but he was trying to play along. “Will you have this again when you return home?”
“With Shalini.” I blinked, trying to clear the tears from my eyes. “But this food is amazing, Torin. I feel confident in saying it’s the best thing you’ve ever done.” I licked my fingers—a disgusting habit, and something I never would have done if I hadn’t been starved for a week.
Lightning flashed, and a few moments later, rain started to hammer against the window. Outside, a storm picked up.
