“We’ll just have to get to know each other better until we’re no longer strangers. What were you going to say earlier?”
He turns to look out the window before he answers. “I was going to say that just because it’s expected doesn’t make it easy.”
“Oh.”
He would understand better than anyone, wouldn’t he?
Then he finds her eyes again. “You make all of this easier for me than I thought it would be.”
He’s being sincere, isn’t he? Perhaps beneath that harshness he exudes, there’s a hidden softness.
She’ll have the rest of her life to find out.
Aftertheirbriefconversation,Cerian and Arisanna fall into an easy silence. He tries not to let embarrassment at his words to her plague him. What possessed him to open up like that? The heartbinding?
The rest of his family gives Arisanna space. Hopefully, she perceives it as the kindness intended rather than as a lack of caring.
Their train rolls into Feressa just after lunchtime, and Father suggests they partake of a meal at a local establishment. It’s all so foreign to Cerian—the way the proprietor leads them to a table and brings them something called a menu.
The dining establishments in Lostariel are much different. More relaxed. No one waits on you—you collect your own food.
“We have those, too,” Arisanna says after he describes it to her. Somehow, he ended up at a private table with her, apart from the rest of his kin. “We call them buffets. They’re all the rage in Levina.”
“Buffet. I am unfamiliar with that word.” He looks over the folded menu in his hand and frowns. His written Nunianis much weaker than his spoken Nunian. Normally, he would ask Father for help, but Father’s at another table across the room.
“What’s wrong?” Arisanna asks.
“Nothing.”
The glyphs themselves differ from Elvish runes. Letters to make sounds rather than symbols to convey ideas. It’s probably easier to learn than written Elvish, but he’s always resisted. It seemed unnecessary.
Perhaps he should have paid more attention to his tutors.
“What do you recommend?” he asks.
“Well, you liked the venison at our wedding. There’s steak on the menu, but it’s beef. It’s similar, though. Perhaps a little greasier. You don’t farm meat in Lostariel, do you?”
He shakes his head. “We eat wild game when it’s available.”
“Well, I recommend the steak. Unless you’d prefer chicken. Do you have wild chickens?”
“No.”
“Hmm. I imagine it’s similar to other fowl.”
He stares at the jumbled letters again, and she reaches across the table to point to a set of words that could mean anything.
“So how do I procure this meal?” he asks.
“The waiter will come and take our orders. Just tell him what you want, and he’ll bring it to our table.”
Cerian tries not to let his horror show. Tell the waiter?
Perhaps he’s not hungry after all.
“I think I’ll have the chicken pot pie.” Arisanna folds her menu and sets it down in front of her.
“Chicken pie?”
