CHAPTER 30 #2
“And?” He crossed his arms and waited.
“And…thank you?” I tried.
“No, what else? Bergamot, lavender, and…”
“Oh, and vanilla.”
He nodded. “Good.” Then he held out his hand expectantly, eyes still locked on mine, and beckoned for my mug.
With a sigh, I handed it over.
The head chef lifted the mug to his reddened nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. Then, without asking, he helped himself to my first sip.
I frowned.
His eyes shot open, but this time, his eyebrows rose in what might have been appreciation. Without a word, he handed the mug back.
I took it, ducked my head, and moved past him. With the hot mug, I couldn’t walk too fast, but I took as swift of steps toward the door as I dared.
“Come back tomorrow.”
My hand stilled on the door handle. I glanced back over my shoulder.
The head chef nodded at me, dimples dancing on his cheeks. “Tomorrow,” he said again, “and you make two mugs. One for you, and one for me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded again.
I didn’t know if it was a nod of approval, a nod of dismissal, or a nod of pleasure at his own command. But I found myself agreeing, “Tomorrow, then.” With that, I pushed through the door and, only when safe on the other side, let a smile creep onto my face.
I enjoyed my mug in peace, and by the time I’d finished it, I found my appetite finally awakening.
The pinch between my eyes was starting to ease.
Breakfast in the Main Hall sounded like a delight, and after several mornings with each one being shittier than the last, it was time for me to take control.
“As you should be. You feel peaceful today, Small One.”
She was right. Spilling everything into the journal lifted a weight I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying.
“Then you’ve forgiven your weaponmaster?”
I cringed at the question. “Not yet.”
“Good. It gives us more time to hone and expand your skills. You’ve barely scratched the surface.”
“Excuse me? I just healed a man from the brink of death while holding back an entire crowd of people with my roots!”
“And were you any other than my Bound, that would be marvelous work. But you are far more than parlor tricks and a bit of healing. All of life rests at your fingertips.”
I shook my head. The Main Hall door sprang open just as I reached for the handle. The young man heading out jumped at the sight of me, then scrambled aside and held the door for me to enter.
“Thank you,” I said, trying not to sound as startled as I was.
“It’s my pleasure, miss, um—” His cheeks flushed bright red against his short blond beard, and he dashed away, letting the door thump shut behind me.
I stared at the door for a second, wondering what I’d done to elicit that reaction.
Turning to the hall, I scanned the tables for Callagh or my ranng.
A woman with a red scar across her cheek waved at me.
I recognized her as one of the sibling pair from our mission with the dragori.
Thank the Great Dragon she had recovered.
“Lady Serae, you can sit with us,” she called out.
Lady?
“They should recognize you as above them.”
I fought back my eye roll as I returned her wave, but at that moment, I spotted Raif and Lispen at a table nearby.
“I usually sit with my ranng,” I called back. Heads were starting to turn, some eager, some with anger. I hadn’t received this amount of attention since arriving in Drakh. I wanted to shrink away and duck back out of the hall, but Lispen beckoned me over.
A server was already following me with a tray by the time I plopped down in the seat next to her. “I can get you anything else you might like,” he offered, voice cracking in the middle.
“This is fine.”
He nodded but stayed at my side. My eyes bounced between Lispen and Raif at a complete loss.
“Off you go,” Raif barked, and the boy jumped and scurried back down the row to his place at the end of the table. Raif shook his head and returned to his meal.
Lispen scowled after the boy. “Ignore them,” she said.
Looking around, I spotted many curious faces still turned my way, so I lowered my head and tucked into my meal. Tension radiated from me, and I was certain Lispen and Raif could feel it. They both picked at their meals in awkward silence while all three of us avoided each other’s gaze.
Raif was the first to break the silence. “Lispen, please.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Later,” she hissed.
I looked up just as Raif’s face wiped blank—but a shock of blond hair distracted me.
“She’s up!” Teke exclaimed, claiming the seat across from me and nearly hopping over the table to yank me into a hug.
I laughed and gripped them back. “I’ve been up for hours.”
“Do tell. Tangled in the sheets with a certain red-headed stud?” Lex asked and dropped down into the open chair beside Raif. Lispen jerked beside me, and Lex yelped in pain. “Can’t you do something about this?” he complained to Raif, who only smirked.
“Please tell me you’re returning to training today,” Teke pleaded.
I shook my head, and their face fell. “Soon,” I promised. “I just need to wrap my head around…everything.”
Lex leaned in, a rare moment of sincerity across his face. “Is it the part about being proclaimed as Dragonbound, or that very public declaration of love that’s fucking you up?”
My mind fuzzed. He hadn’t said he loved me, had he? No—it didn’t matter. Anything he felt for me, it was only because Dane had forced us together. My head was starting to hurt again. I couldn’t muddle through how I should feel about any of this.
Teke gripped my hand across the table and nodded. “It’ll be fine. Soon, it is. But you better mean it, or Lispen’s going to kick your ass from here into next week.”
Lex snorted into his mug of tea. “Nothing some good head couldn’t cure.
Just tell Wep to get on his knees between your legs and—” He twisted in his chair just as Lispen’s body jerked again, missing him, but Raif’s arm shot out lightning quick and slapped him upside the back of his head, spilling his tea all over his lap.
“Fuck!” he shouted.
Lispen kept her eyes trained on her plate, but I didn’t miss the smile she tried to hide.
I did miss being with them. One meal in the evening wasn’t enough. I’ll make more of an effort, I promised myself. I’d have to return to training at some point. I just needed a little more time.
At midday, Callagh found me in the garden, and we wandered together toward the market despite the sprinkling rain. After posting my letter, we made our way to the tailor’s shop with my wrapped bundle of dyed cloth bolts in tow.
“Beautiful,” Lanh Migram muttered. She held a lens to the fabric of my sleeve as she inspected every minute detail of the pattern. “But impractical.”
I chuckled as she yanked out the bolts, offering them the same scrutiny.
“This must take hours upon hours.”
All I could do was nod—her assessment was spot on.
“Why not just carve the patterns onto blocks and use them as a print template for a whole bolt? It would take ages to carve all the blocks, but then you could just stitch the pattern on as a cuff.” For all her contrariness, Lanh was still stroking the fabric, inspecting the inverse, then scrutinizing a new part of the pattern before repeating the process.
“Well—” I took a moment to consider. “I think it’s for individuality’s sake.”
She scoffed. “I’ll make something of these bolts for you. I’ll send word for payment when I’m done.”
“All right.” I looked at Callagh, unsure what to do next. She only shrugged.
“Off you go,” the tailor crowed while ushering both of us out the door and onto the street.
THE NEXT morning, I rose early and returned to the kitchens. As soon as I entered, a cook with three tight braids woven back and forth atop her head nodded to me, then she yelled out, “Marr!”
The same head chef from the previous day emerged from a side room. He also offered me a nod and gestured to the worktable set with a hot kettle, a medium pot, and two mugs.
I looked back at the man. He had a stern brow, his mouth was drawn into a tight line, but his eyes were bright and curious.
I smiled at him, knowing that he would not offer one in return.
Then, I moved to the workbench, took a deep breath, and let my thoughts drift away.
My senses took control, and I gave in to instinct.
Ten minutes was all I needed to blend the herbs, steep the tea, and pour out the mugs. Following the guidance of the other cooks, I called out, “Marr,” and ignored them as all their heads turned to me with raised brows.
The head chef was before me in an instant. I said nothing, letting my silence be my shield. Wrapped in my own special quiet, I imagined myself above any criticism or reproach. With confidence blossoming from my very core, I lifted the mug and handed it over.
I waited while he sipped, smacked his lips, and sipped again.
“Peppermint,” he began. “Marjoram, juniper, ginger.”
I nodded. I had indeed used those herbs for healing, happiness, and good health. A dash of ginger for heat, too. But he had not identified the last ingredient.
“And passionflower,” I added as flatly as I could, though inside, I was brimming with pride.
“Who knew you had such a large ego trapped in such a small frame?” Vaya’la’s snark had returned. She must be feeling better.
“Hush, you!” I retorted.
His brow furrowed, he sniffed, he sipped, then he grinned. “Tomorrow, come back again.”
I nodded and gathered up my mug.
“And you should call me Henkel.” He pointed at the cooks and leaned in. “They must call me Marr, but you, master tea brewer, may use my name.”
“Henkel,” I tried, feeling the name in my throat. “I’m Serae.”
Henkel nodded, took another sip of his tea, and wandered back to his post overseeing breakfast preparations with a distinctly relaxed brow.
The next day, I found a large pot and serving kettle waiting for me.