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Does he know?
I shake out of my reverie and nod to him, before pivoting on my heel and taking Olivia’s arm to rush toward her car.
She huffs in disgust. “He’s soweird.”
I cast her a warning glance, unsure if he can still hear, and we hurry into the vehicle.
Once we’re settled and on the road, I don’t want to dwell on the encounter. Instead, I change the subject and ask, “What are you in the mood for, for lunch? My mother and Anita went shopping yesterday, and they actually had meat in stock.”
Olivia’s eyes light up, interaction forgotten. “Ooooh, what kind?”
I shrug. “There was some chicken and goat; they got a bit of both.”
“Goat! I haven’t had goat in…I don’t even know how long.” She sighs in contentment and rests her head against the car door, clearly contemplating the last time she’s enjoyed the meat. That’s settled, then—I’m making goat. I spend the rest of the ride contemplating what to make.
Once we’re at the house, I leave Olivia to her own devices as I go to the kitchen and start cooking. I pull out some goat from our supply and stare at it, unsure how I want to cook it. Shrugging, I start cutting it into chunks, figuring it’ll come to me as I work.
I pull out our whole spice cupboard and play around with flavors until I come up with something divine; familiar, but I can’t quite place it.
It’s not until I subconsciously construct the meat over a bed of rice and garnish with a side of flatbread that I realize what I’ve done. It’s not exactly the same, but the flavors are there. It’s almost identical to the lamb dish I had with Arman.
Fuck me.
I sigh, frustrated with myself. I’m over this shit. There’s no reason for me to replicateanythingfrom my time…there.
In all fairness, the food was very good. Plus, the memory was brought up during cake tasting yesterday. It’s bound to be somewhat on my mind, but that doesn’t mean anything.
The encounter with the Top Elder pops into my head, but I push it away. That didn’t mean anything, either. My mind is justtrying to draw connections between things that are meant to stay separate.
I take the food to the dining room, feeling calmer than a moment ago. Once I set down our plates, I call Olivia to eat.
“Amelia, this looks amazing!” She takes her spot, running a finger through the stew for a small taste. “God, I wish I could cook like you. You spoil me.”
I roll my eyes with a smile and take my own seat. “Shush and eat. I hope you like it.” I know she’ll like it.
My suspicions are confirmed after her first bite, when she slaps the table and sings her praise. We eat mostly in silence, both enjoying the flavors and curbing our ravenous appetites.
After lunch, Olivia offers to do the dishes and I go up to my room to change. I feel a bit grimy after walking through the garden for hours, so a fresh change of clothes should do the trick. I’m contemplating what to wear as I open my door, when the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks.
There’s a note on my bed.
No. No, I’m not doing this. He can’t do this to me.
Suddenly my breaths are coming quickly, and I flatten myself against the wall as if he’ll jump out at any moment. Maybe he will.
“Amelia?”
I jump at the sound of Olivia’s voice. I need to get myself under control; there’s no reason to freak her out over a note. I take a few calming breaths, but my heart is still beating out of my chest.
I’m not able to get to the note before Olivia’s through my door. She’s looking at me with some concern. “I heard a bang on the wall. What going o—what’s that?” Her eyes have traveled to the note on my bed, her expression changing from concern to intrigue.
“Ah…”
Before I can come up with an answer, she’s on my bed and has the folded paper in her hand. “Wait, isn’t this howhesent you stuff? Are you still talking to him?” There’s a twinge of betrayal in her voice. She must think I’m hiding it from her.
I immediately shake my head. “No, not at all. That’s behind me. I don’t know what he wants.” Part of me is thankful that Olivia has the note; I don’t know if I have the strength to read it. I sit down next to her and motion for her to open it.
She eyes me before carefully unfolding the paper, reading its contents.
