Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Food
MAGNOLIA
Iwas quiet during the walk. I had mastered the art of silent observation a long time ago. It was what I was good at. Listening without speaking. Holding my tongue when I wanted to scream.
Assessing without being seen.
Bran didn’t question me as I walked slower, trying to take everything in, and I was thankful.
Maybe he thought I was in awe, which I was a little bit, but I needed to soak everything in.
I tried to memorize the exact route we took, how many hallways spanned from each direction, how many floors, the people we passed, glimpses outside every window—anything to help me since I was going to have to sneak out later.
My room was on the fourth story, not ideal for slipping out the window, but I was just thankful there was a window that opened. The low hanging roofs adorning the castle should be enough leverage to help me climb down if I needed to, so it was still an option.
My view overlooked the north, toward the Drakin Mountains. Thinking about it made my adrenaline skyrocket, knowing that dragons were just outside the castle. It was strange. I was used to Dahes’ monsters lurking in the fog, but here everything was out in the open.
I hadn’t seen one since the rider’s white dragon had flown me in, but I could hear them roar every so often.
We walked down another two flights of stairs before we rounded a corner and Bran told me we were here. He gave me one second to compose myself before he pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside.
A large table took up the majority of the room, and at the sound of the door opening, everyone turned to look at me.
Bran bowed at the waist, while I just awkwardly stood behind him, gaping. “My king, may I present to you, Nollie of Moriann.”
I did bow then, as I felt King Elion’s pale eyes shift to me, and I realized it was his gaze that bothered me. Everything else about him was warm and welcoming, but his eyes reminded me of Dahes, reminded me of the dead. Maybe it was a God-like trait.
I forced my gaze away from him to take in the rest of the room.
There was a blend of the two uniforms at the table—the Wielder ‘W’ sewn into a gray jumpsuit and the drakin leathers.
All the matching cream uniforms, similar to Bran’s, were dotting around the table, refilling wine glasses, clearing plates.
And the table itself—my eyes nearly popped out of my head—I’d never seen so much food in my life.
All I’d ever known were stolen moldy loaves of bread eaten on the streets of Moriann before Dahes’ questionable meat. My plate was the only thing that ever donned the bone-resin table at his castle.
But this table—it was filled. A variety of colors, textures, and smells hit me in rolling waves.
I honestly had no idea what it all was, but I wanted to get lost in it.
And the table itself didn’t have a single bone infused into it.
It looked like solid wood, smoothed down and dipped in gold, creating a spiraling design throughout the oak.
“Come sit, Nollie,” the king gestured toward the single seat still vacant to the right of him. He was sitting at the head of the table, in a normal high-backed chair instead of his throne, but there was no mistaking him for anyone but the king. He exuded regality.
His clothes looked thick, too warm for the weather, and nearly every inch was embellished with jewels that made it look too heavy to be comfortable.
His back was straight, his head held high, drawing attention to the crown resting atop his dark curls.
The jewels embedded into the metal matched the ones adorning his robes.
The entire thing looked too polished, too showy.
I forced myself to walk, forced myself to slowly pull out the chair, to close my jaw and not let it gape open at the spread, then I used my remaining willpower to not reach and grab everything in sight like a starved animal.
Patience.
I had patience. Honestly, it was probably my strongest trait, so why was being in Viven making me lose it all?
Maybe I just wasn’t used to temptations. I had patience with Dahes because there was nothing to look forward to.
“Help yourself,” King Elion said as everyone slowly resumed eating around us, and I could have hugged him.
I immediately started filling my plate—though I forced myself to do it methodically.
I grabbed one of each fruit, some sort of yellow crumble that had a thick consistency to it, bread—that didn’t have mold—and as many pastries as I could fit in the remaining space.
I grabbed everything but meat.
I tried the fruit first and thought I was going to lose it.
Besides apples, Moriann didn’t have any edible produce.
Nothing would last the growth process without the suns and the trade between the two kingdoms was mediocre at best. I knew we provided the meat—which was why I had no desire to eat it.
That, and the fact that it’s all I ever had eaten for the past seven years.
I hadn’t even had a bite of bread. The last time I ate a moldy piece was—I shook my head. I wasn’t going to go there.
But berries. I’d never tasted a berry before. There were some along the Examinis, taunting and teasing us, but they were just as bioluminescent as the river, and everyone in Moriann knew not to eat them unless you wanted to die.
It only took five seconds before someone would be clutching their throat, spitting up luminescent bile until their blood hardened and the glowy liquid spilled from every orifice of their bodies.
Most tripped into the water before the process fully took effect, and once someone entered the currents, they never came out.
I watched it happen once before I started to warn the exiles not to eat them. The only problem was, even with the warning, people became desperate.
But these berries—they didn’t have a trace of anything glowing or ominous to them, and they were freaking divine. I kept stuffing my mouth, putting one in after the other, barely chewing, before shoving the next piece in.
It wasn’t like me. I usually took my time. I had control. More self awareness.
The king chuckled low. It was the kind of laugh forced from amusement rather than humor. I looked up then and noticed he was watching me. He had reclined back in his chair and wasn’t eating, his gaze wholly honed in on my mouth.
“What do you think?” he asked, and I realized everyone else at the table was quiet now. Beyond a quick sweep to see the varying uniforms, I hadn’t really looked at who I was sitting with, which was so stupid. As soon as I smelled all the food, it was like all rational thought went out the window.
But I was paying attention now. I immediately recognized the Wielder that sat across from me, to the left of the king—Cash. I ignored his grin, forcing myself to keep scanning the table, trying my best to block out his training methods.
I looked at who was sitting next to him and my mouth nearly dropped open again when I noticed the drakin rider. He cut into a piece of meat on his plate, the only person at the table completely ignoring me.
He was just as attractive as when I first saw him and covered in nearly as many weapons despite sitting down to eat.
My eyes trailed over his face, to his thick brows that matched his hair, straight nose, and set jawline, before snagging on his mouth.
A chunk of skin was missing on the upper corner of his left lip, leaving a pale inverted scar.
My gaze lowered, to an even thicker scar running down the right side of his neck before disappearing into his uniform.
I forced myself to look away, to stop staring at him, and take in the rest of the table.
To his left, the female with veracity was staring at me.
I recognized her from the throne room. She was stunning—long black hair that flowed past her shoulders, chestnut eyes, full lips, and curves anyone would be envious of.
She was wearing the gray Wielder uniform, and while the dragon rider was completely avoiding me, she was unabashed.
Her gaze was narrowed, her food untouched as she assessed me like she was waiting for me to slip up.
I didn’t recognize anyone else at the table, but I assumed they were all important to the king.
“What do I think about what?” I forced myself to ask, turning my attention back toward the king.
King Elion smiled before waving his arms out. “Everything. My palace. My kingdom. My food.”
“It’s…” I paused, trying to figure out the right word. “Exquisite.”
Cash smirked across from me. His green eyes were glistening as he took me in. “Of course it is. You’re used to rats’ ass dining in Moriann.”
An amused snicker flitted across the room before a knife clattered against the table, immediately cutting the laughter. I looked up and saw the drakin rider had stopped eating.
It was like the mood shifted. His light brown gaze slid to mine before he looked away.
I tried not to focus on it—on how I noticed he had cuts across his knuckles or the fact that they were turning white. He was broad, nearly blocking the frame of the chair from view, and even sitting down, I could tell he’d tower over most of the people sitting with us.
The large sword was still strapped to his back and I wondered if he ever took it off.
Cash rolled his shoulders, the only indication that he was uncomfortable, before he went back to his plate.
“Your servant tells me you’re feeling better,” the king said, drawing my attention back to him.
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.
Calculating the bit of information that confirmed Bran was a servant, even though I’d already guessed it.
I moved my gaze across the table again, realizing I had no idea where he went.
The king took a sip from his goblet. “Good,” he nodded. “You’ll resume your training with Cash then.”
I stiffened, noticing the way Cash’s eyes glinted as he soaked me in.
The table slowly picked up conversation, and I had to remind myself that this wasn’t the time to shut down. I could worry about Cash coming to my room later.
But right now, I had to focus. I had to figure out who this Hael person was. I looked across the table again, assessing everyone who wore the drakin leathers, wondering if one of them was the leader I was hunting.