Chapter 29 #2
My heart aches for the knight, but watching Goldie swallow back tears has my heart breaking for her too.
“Yeah, well,” she sniffles. “I don’t need a knight like that.”
Merrek cuts her a sidewise glance.
“You really gonna make me do this in front of all these people?” He asks.
She looks away, pretending to pick her pristine nails.
“Alrighty, then.” He nods, pursing his lips.
Then he drops to his knees. And he begs.
“Forget the kinda knight I am. What kinda knight do you need me to be?”
“Oh, I oughta—”
“Relax Bobby. I’ve got him from here.” Goldie cuts, a small smile moving across her lips as she saunters over to where Merrek is still on the floor.
He smiles up at her. Then she slaps him, hard enough to shake the table.
“Oh.” Myrrdin winces. “Five pounds says this mark lasts longer than the last.”
“Ten says it doesn’t. She used her left hand this time,” Bobby replies, before taking off into the kitchen with his brothers to fetch some rags.
Meanwhile I’m still sitting here, wide-eyed, no closer to any answers. And now, painfully hungry.
“Goldie has underground connections.” Frog leans forward on the table, brushing his elbow against mine.
We both notice, but it’s he who pulls away first this time.
“I need her help getting a message through to someone. Someone I haven’t spoken to in a very long time,” he adds, clearing his throat.
Ah. “And her hating your friend would dampen any chances of that.”
Suddenly it all makes sense.
“So what’s your plan B, then?” I ask, noting the glowing red imprint of Goldie’s hand on Merrek’s smiling face.
“Don’t need one.” Frog nods as the ex-couple dart off down the hall, hand in hand.
Oh?
Oh!
“She’s the baker’s daughter! The brilliant cake maker I’ve heard so much about!” I recall, piecing the dots together.
“That’s her. My sister, Goldie Bear,” Bobby proudly grins as he sets glasses of water and bowls of warm beef broth on our table.
My stomach growls as I inhale the savory smell.
“Thank you,” I murmur, already lifting the bowl to my lips. A soft moan escapes me as I swallow a mouthful of the rich, meaty broth. It’s the best thing I’ve had in days, every sip bursting with flavor.
I catch Frog watching me out of the corner of my eye, his expression softening.
I lower the bowl with a sheepish smile, wiping the dribble from my chin.
“It’s really good.” I laugh softly.
“Of course it is! It’s made just right,” Bobby winks at me, and Frog’s fingers tighten around his glass.
“Anyway,” I chirp, cheeks now flush. “I don’t suppose Merrek and Goldie went off for a pounding break, I’d love to see how that process is done?”
Frog chokes.
Myrrdin’s eyes blow wide, his cheeks the same shade as his hair.
And Bobby? He’s already halfway down the hall, his expression far more frightening than it was five minutes ago.
“Was it something I said?” I stutter, blinking as I look from one man to the next.
“Well…” Myrrdin tilts his head, pressing his lips together before worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “It wasn’t something you didn’t say.” He shrugs.
“That’s an oxymoron.” I point out.
“Exactly.”
“Myrrdin,” I exhale.
“Fine,” the proper knight shifts in his seat, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “What exactly do you know about pounding?”
“That it’s a necessary step in baking,” I answer matter-of-factly. “Though I’ve never heard of our cooks back home doing it. Regardless, I should very much like to learn.”
The Dark Knight clears his throat, dropping his gaze to the table.
“Merrek, you cad,” Myrrdin brings his clasped hands to his lips.
I don’t understand either reaction.
“Is it a hard thing to learn?” I ask.
Myrrdin blows out a long exhale. “Hard is certainly a word one could use to describe it.”
“Explain.” I lean forward, rapt with interest.
“Don’t.” Frog fixes Myrrdin with a warning look.
Myrrdin meets it head-on. “I suppose you’d like to tell her then?”
“Tell me what?” I ask, turning to Frog expectantly.
The Dark Knight freezes.
“I,” he stutters, his eyes widening for the briefest moment before dropping to the floor. “There’s somewhere else I need to be.” He pushes to his feet.
“Wait…you’re leaving?” I ask, my brows knitting as I watch him retreat. “Where?”
His eyes soften. “Wolfe never returned from his hunting trip. I’m going to speak with his family,” he says. “I’ll be back soon.”
“At least eat your—” I turn to grab the Dark Knight’s broth, only to find Myrrdin already tipping the bowl back, half-way through his first gulp. “Food.”
Myrrdin shrugs, and by the time I turn back around, Frog is gone, disappearing into the sea of dancers outside.
Does that man ever eat? I wonder, sinking back into my chair as I absently twirl the long tail of my ribbon around my finger.
“Well then…” I sigh, worrying at the ribbon’s frayed edges as I lean forward. “How about that lesson in pounding?”
Hot broth spews from Myrrdin’s nose, sending him into a coughing fit.
“Oh god!” I jerk back, narrowly avoiding the spray. “What is it with you men and baking?”
Myrrdin fixes me with a weary look, broth still dripping from his nose. With a long-suffering sigh, he stands.
“Would you mind holding onto that extra pack? Looks like it got left behind in everyone’s rush to get out of here,” he huffs, grabbing the other two packs and tossing a few coins onto the table before heading for the door.
“Oh, sure,” I hurry after him. “Where are we going?”
“To the one place that’ll have the answers you’re looking for.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “The library.”