“Patience is obviously not one of your virtues,” I muttered, something warming in my chest. Outside of medical or military personnel, Mageia included, this was one of the longest conversations I’d had with anyone since Ri had died.
He just scowled at me, so I turned and took a seat on the floor across from him. Maybe I’d seem less threatening if I was sitting down.
“Easy, kitten,” the endearment slipped out without thought. Shit. What the hell was wrong with me? “I want you to help me win a war.”
Confusion and curiosity warred on his face.
“I… how did you know… Your accent. Are you… Illyrian?” he asked suspiciously. He didn’t comment on what I called him but seemed utterly confused. Despite the way he struggled to keep his tone neutral, I sensed an unexpected undercurrent of hope in his voice.
“I am,” I admitted, stirring the stew so it wouldn’t burn.
“How are you here?” He asked. “Illyria is hundreds of miles away.”
I reached under my shirt and pulled the metal collar with the medallion dangling from it out and showed him.
The sight of it seemed to make him deflate.
“So you’re stuck here?” he asked.
I shrugged in a non-answer. He didn’t need to know all my secrets. At least, not yet.
“Aren’t you afraid the Elusians will track you?” he asked.
I knocked on the wall. “Solid stone. Hundreds of feet of it. Their tracking devices can’t penetrate it. To their eyes, you just disappeared.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes until the stew was heated. I filled a bowl and handed it to him with a spoon and asked, “What’s your name?”
He stared suspiciously at the stew, then back at me.
“Don’t worry, it won’t bite,” I chuckled. “…but I might.” I teased without thinking.
Fuck, what the hell was wrong with me? Hell of a time to begin flirting. I’d learned to go unnoticed by most people after the explosion. The scars tended to either frighten people or earn their pity, neither of which I wanted.
“What’s in it?” he asked, ignoring my gibe.
“What do you mean, ‘what’s in it’? It’s stew,” I responded. “Do they not have stew in Alexandria?”
“Whatkindof stew, asshole?” he demanded sharply.
“…Beef?” I drawled, confused. I had rations I’d had shipped in, but I didn’t exactly check the ingredient list. “Why? Are you a vegetarian?”
He shook his head disgustedly at me, but hunger seemed to overcome his reluctance and finally took the bowl from my hand. He sniffed at it suspiciously before the tip of his pink tongue flicked out to taste it hesitantly before finally shrugging and spooning it into his mouth. Again, the comparison to a cat swam through my head, and oh my goddess! The sight of that tongue made my pants really uncomfortable.
I swear he let out a moan as he popped the first full spoonful into his mouth.
“This is good. Really good,” he finally admitted, before pausing and glancing up at me through thick black lashes. “…Thank you.” he said, almost reluctantly.
I nodded in acknowledgement. Baby steps.
“You’re welcome…?” I said, my voice trailing off in question. Something in me made me hold my breath waiting for his answer.
“Kat,” He answered finally. “Kataramenos.”
Ah! So I had been closer than I knew when I called him kitten. Then the actual meaning of his name hit me:cursed one.
“Wow… Your Legion knows how to name people,” I responded, somehow disappointed, though I didn’t understand why. “Guess I was right when I called you Kitten, but ’Cursed’ and ‘Idiot’? You two must make quite the couple.”
He glared at me.
