“How old are you Jesse?” I inquire.
The boy can’t be more than sixteen, though his features are extremely perceptive for his age.
“Fifteen, Lady.”
“And are your parents here today?” I ask, liking to meet them.
“No, Lady,” he states plainly, “I live at the expense of Chef and Castle Bardot,”
“At the expense of Chef?” I chuckle, “what a coincidence, as did I. Has he told you stories of my own time at his expense?”
The boy gives me a side grin, attempting to reply casually, “here and there, Lady.”
“Mhmm. And where did you come from before you found yourself under Chef’s wing?”
“Woodlands, Lady,” he replies without hesitation.
My heart stops in my chest as both Alanna and Lord Daniel silently turn their heads down the table.
“Fascinating,” I reply with open interest, “how was your time there?”
“I vaguely remember it, Lady,” Jesse shrugs.
“No?” I try to keep my question light, “no stories of growing up? I should like to visit Woodlands one day.”
“No,” he shrugs again, “but it’s no matter. Chef is the best. He treats me well and I enjoy my life here.”
I feign a smile, “Chefisthe best. And don’t ever let him hear you say otherwise.”
Jesse laughs in his departure, making his way to the other tables. I turn to look at Alanna and notice a deep frown set across her face, her grey eyes also watching the boy as he moves between the patrons.
What is the chance that Jesse, apart from myself, is now the second person to be brought from Woodlands who doesn’t remember their past life? Are there more like us spread across Disce? And why is his easy contentment with his current situation in Chef’s kitchens nagging at me? He didn’t dwell on his past at all, nor did he seem to care that he couldn’t remember…
The parallel is too uncanny to ignore.
I immediately glance at Troy and notice he’s watching Jesse walk around the tables. My heart skips a beat at the realization that he could have been listening to our conversation, so I stand up swiftly and let Holis knowI’m taking a walk, then head towards the boy with Stormfall still sleeping on my shoulder.
“Jesse!” I call through the crowd.
He turns with a questioning smile.
“Can you take me to Chef?” I grin and tilt my head down the road to Castle Bardot, “I need to give him something.”
It’s a lie, but I want to speak with him again.
“He’s in the kitchens, Lady. You want to walk all the way back to the castle?”
“Yes,” I smile, “just need a quick chat with him.”
Jesse nods with a shrug, turning back to the table to pick up the last of the empty plates. I reach out and take a few mugs from his hands and help with the load.
“You don’t have to, Lady,” he shakes his head.
I give the boy my own shrug, “we’re walking to the same place. It would be rude of me to let you carry this on your own.”
Jesse beams and balances two more glasses within the mugs I’m already holding. The gesture makes me laugh because it’s the same balance Chef taught me to do when I was his age.
“Let’s make this quick,” I nod to the boy, urging him to the Great Road, “then we can both come back and continue the celebration.”
