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“You’re not eating his leftovers are you?”
“No,” he said in a stiff tone. Felix pretty much ate all of his meals anyway.
“I don’t want you finishing whatever he doesn’t,” she said in an equally stiff tone. “Months of that will certainly put weight on you. Remember, I can tell when you’ve been snacking, and you’ve always been such a sneak with food just like your sister was thanks to your Father.”
His face burned. “Mum, I don’t sneak food. I don’t eat candies or sweets at all. I’ve told you this before.” Of course, he’d never mention the dried fruit he occasionally ate when he truly couldn’t stand the hunger in his gut.
“I know you by now. Don’t lie to me.”
He couldn’t win either way.
***
Berries and Ballads was rather crowded, and it seemed a couple of women who were to sing and play the violin were quite popular. Rainier hadn’t had any idea what the entertainment would be, but he knew they had something every night. Berries and Ballads had a fee to get in which was unusual for a tavern, but they didn’t want people watching the entertainment and not buying the drinks which were expensive.
They picked a spot off to the side by a wall, and a woman came to ask what they wanted to drink.
Berry wine was their specialty, and Felix picked a strawberry one. Rainier did too, and before the lady returned, he debated with himself about drinking it.
Wine certainly could make a person gain weight, and it wouldn’t be watered down here. Mum had theirs cut because she didn’t want to get tipsy. He was pretty sure that showed a lack of self-control in her mind. Normally, he let himself drink some if he went out, and he’d gotten drunk with Lance a few times when they’d gone to different taverns to play cards.
A single glass wouldn’t make him drunk, but after Mum’s earlier comments, he certainly shouldn’t be putting anything extra in his body. He must have gained weight, and he simply couldn’t tell despite scrutinizing himself in the privy room looking glass
When the lady returned with the wine, he’d decided he wouldn’t drink it. It came in a glass with silver on the outside, so Felix wouldn’t see how much was in it. When she said they had a fruit plate, Rainier told Felix to get one if he wanted it.
When he got it, Felix pushed the plate over a bit.
“I’m not hungry, Kitten.” Like Rainier would dare eat in public after earlier.
“I can’t eat all of that myself. It’s a lot.”
“Just eat what you want of it.”
The two ladies were on stage, and they started singing. The song was soft, and after a minute, they ripped into their violins as they danced. Some of the other fairies in the room cheered.
“It was poetry when I came last time,” said Felix. “I like this better.”
The fruit practically taunted him as Felix ate pieces of berrymelon and mellyballs. Dinner had been light too, and Mum must have asked for the chicken soup even though she didn’t often prefer soup for dinner. Part of that, which had been mostly broth, and the salad had barely made a dent in his hunger, and he kept imagining how light and sweet the fruit would taste.
He cursed himself inside because Mum was right. He didn’t have any self-control. Maybe he should skip breakfast entirely from now on. Missing it certainly hadn’t killed him lately, and Mum didn’t even care about that meal because she ate it in her rooms. It was lunch and dinner she fussed over.
He’d eat a tiny bit more at lunch and dinner to help with hunger, and with one less meal, he’d certainly lose more weight. He forced himself to focus on the women and told himself the damn fruit plate didn’t exist.
He picked up his wine glass a few times and pretended to sip. His Kitten never noticed a thing.
***
A couple of weeks later, he was in the office and trying to finish up the ledger one afternoon. Felix had gone outside to walk in the garden. Rainier hadn’t eaten breakfast in the past two weeks, and he’d managed to stay away from his dried fruit stash.
Training had been a bitch that morning. He’d been particularly hungry, but he figured he better suck it up and deal.
He could fight well, but running around and swinging a weapon while trying to avoid the attacks of whichever guard was his practice buddy had worn him out. He’d wanted to quit halfway through, and that had further shamed him inside.
Mum came in and started speaking before he had a chance to say hello. “I saw your whore in the garden.”
“My companion,” he said with a barely disguised edge to his voice.
“He came from a whorehouse.”
