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The reaction pleased him. He waved to encompass the array of dummies where pieces he’d acquired throughout the ages. “All yours. I’ll have them delivered to your room after we—” she already zoomed over and collected several, securing them around her neck faster than a blink “—dine.”
She opened her mouth to respond, then caught sight of the spread. Her eyes rounded. He’d gotten rid of anything sweet or fried and covered the table with vegetable and fruit dishes from the mortal world, Harpina, and his own kingdom. Some vegetables were cooked in butter, others in cream or broth or spices. Some were raw. The fruits were either boiled and mashed, mixed, or sliced and drenched in their own juices. He’d stood in front of the enchanted refrigerator for hours, different vegetarian cookbooks in hand. Not something he’d ever expected to do.
Appearing dazed, she tripped to the table, swiped up a carrot and bit into the end. Her eyes slid shut, rapture softening her features.
His muscles got harder, and his blood burned hotter. Perhaps she’d forgiven him?
“Go ahead,” she said, motioning to him. “Do it.”
“Do what?”
“Apologize.” Peering at him with innocent expectation, she chomped another bite of carrot. “You’re working up to it, but because I’m feeling so magnanimous, I thought I’d save you the agony of indecision and get us to the finish line so we can enjoy our meal. I mean, you did go to all this trouble so... Do it.”
He pursed his lips. Rathbone had a lifetime policy: never admit to wrongdoing. Regret gave the other person power over you, providing directions to a wound they could poke and prod at their convenience. A lesson his mother had taught him well. But.
“I am sorry,” he grated, expecting the words to taste foul. He blinked with surprise. They tasted right. Hewassorry. Sorry she’d suffered. Sorry he’d endangered her life. Sorry he’d lost the easy camaraderie that had developed between them. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Much easier to say that time. “I am. I’m sorry. Very, very sorry.”
“All right. I accept. Our beef is officially over.”
He marveled as Neeka busied herself with the food, tasting everything and moaning. She’d truly forgiven him.
After she scooped her favorite dishes onto a plate and sat at the head of the table, he loaded a plate with the same items she’d selected and claimed the seat at her right.
Though he preferred meats and sweets, the first bite of something green wasn’t terrible. “Did the healer aid you to your satisfaction or shall I kill him before I return him to Hades?”
“You borrowed him from the King of the Dead?” she asked.
“Borrowed implies I utilized his services free of charge. I assure you, I’ll pay dearly.”
She winced at him. “That sounds like a you problem. In case it wasn’t clear, expenses never come out of my check.”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t dare.”
Posture softening, she speared an apple wedge with her fork. “You said I could get to know you better. So. What do you admire most about Lore?”
“I will tell you.” Reluctantly. “But in turn, you will answer questions for me.” And he would absolutely, positively limit his questions to Neeka’s process as an oracle. He was certain of it. Determined. Unwavering. “Do you agree?”
“Sure.” Smiling, smirking really, she informed him, “I’ve now answered your first question, so you owe me an answer.”
He would’ve laughed if his guts hadn’t clenched. She was a female assured of her power yet still so soft and...he liked it. “I favored her gentle nature.”
“Favored. Past tense?” Neeka asked, a brow arched. “Do you prefer something else nowadays? FYI, this is just an extension of my first question, so it doesn’t count.”
He pursed his lips, unsure how to respond. Yes, he still fancied Lore’s gentle nature. But... His grip tightened on his silverware. Her lack of interest in monogamy bothered him. “As a child, I dreamed of experiencing such gentleness from another.”
“Excellent misdirection, Your Majesty.” Neeka saluted him with a glass of pineapple juice. “A wonderful way to avoid the subject you don’t wish to discuss. Now I’m super curious about your childhood. Actually, I’ve been curious about your childhood ever since I learned we both have mommy issues.”
Was that what he’d done? Misdirect? Or did some part of him hope to share the deepest aspects of his life and help her understand why he was how he was? No, that couldn’t be it. He’d never desired to do such an irrational thing. Not even with Lore.
He tried to recall what kind of childhood the goddess had, but he wasn’t sure they’d ever discussed it.
“Ask me whatever you desire—when it’s your turn.” He blinked as his words registered. That wasn’t what he’d intended to say. Was it? He’d meant to guide Neeka to another line of thought. Yes? “Describe the characteristics of your desired kingdom.” Again, not what he’d intended to say.
She deliberated for a moment and sighed. “I’m not sure what I want, honestly. I just know I’m supposed to rule someplace somewhere at some point.” Moving corn kernels around her plate, she said, “It’s probably a know-it-when-I-see-it situation. That’s what happened after I got married and entered Phoenixia.”
“Perhaps you can change things to suit your tastes after I take care of your ex. Free of charge,” he offered and blinked. Had he actually spoken those three little words aloud? When she intended to demand triple his original payment?
No need to ponder his answer. Yes. Free of charge. Because Rathbone enjoyed her. She amused him. And frustrated him. But even still, some deep, hidden part of him needed to see her happy. This had nothing to do with nullifying the lord’s claim on the oracle. Nothing at all.
