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“If it tastes half as good as it smells, it’ll be great.”
“Go get washed up. Then we can eat.”
I did as she asked and returned to the dining table.
“Would you like something to drink?” I said.
“What do we have?” she said.
“Pretty much anything you could want. Wine?”
She nodded. I brought over a bottle of red and poured two glasses. She sipped on it and smacked her lips.
“It’s good,” she said.
We sat down to eat.
Was this what living with her would be like? I wondered. Ordinarily, my cooks made my meals for me. I couldn’t cook at all. I wondered how my cooking staff would feel about having Hazel working alongside them.
Knowing Chef, he wouldn’t take it too kindly.
Chef.
His helpers.
The guardsmen.
They were the closest thing I had to friends.
Who was I kidding?
They were my friends.
I tasted every ingredient before I settled down to stuff myself with my favorites.
In the morning, the battle would begin. I wouldn’t eat anything for breakfast. It was always better to fight on an empty stomach. Especially when chances were good you wouldn’t survive. Being hungry put your instincts on high alert.
“Make sure to save some space,” Hazel said. “I made apple strudel and custard.”
Now she tells me.
I chuckled. I wasn’t sure my stomach could take it.
Hazel said, “I thought it was a good idea for you to have a nice meal before…”
She let the sentence hang. She didn’t like the idea of me heading off to battle.
I reached across the table and held her hand. Her face was fraught with frown lines.
“Everything will be all right,” I said.
“I hope so,” she said. “I only just met you. I don’t intend on letting you go just yet.”
“And you won’t.”
“I wanted to speak to you about tomorrow.”
Aha. So here was the real reason for the meal.
