“Shit, you’re making what we want?”
“Language,” Prisca warned.
“Just the eggs. Unless you don’t like fritters and bacon? I could whip up something else…” she turned away for a moment toflip the next batch of fritters with a flick of her wrist. Her hip popped out to the side, a tantalizing curve Aevrin traced with his eyes.
“Uh, Miss Cassia?” Mavek asked, rubbing his hand slowly back and forth over his short-cropped hair.
“...yes?” Cassia said. Aevrin watched her carry Gramma Prisca a plate and cutlery, and set it down with a smile for the older woman. Cassia started to glance his way, no doubt feeling Aevrin’s eyes on her. He quickly looked back down at his food, annoyed at himself that he was so weak-willed.
“If I'm real good, d’you think maybe someday you and me could get married?” Mavek asked.
Aevrin stiffened with a glare and quickly choked down the food he was chewing. He started to rise up out of his chair. Gramma Prisca landed a swift, brutal kick to his shin beneath the table. With anoofof surprise, he turned to glare at her instead.
“Sit down, fool,” she hissed under her breath. “Haven’t you ever heard of keeping casual?”
“What?” Aevrin hissed back.
“Eat your food. Let Mavek be an idiot. You know he’s just teasing.” She was talking too quietly for the sound to travel across the kitchen to where Cassia was nervously laughing and shaking her head and Mavek was rapidly switching back and forth between his egg choices and how big of a wedding ceremony he wanted to have.
Aevrin huffed and angrily cut another bite from his fritters. Maybe his Gramma was right. Mavek proposed to the healer, Evelya, at least every other week. His brother wasn’t about to steal Cassia. Not that Cassia could be ‘stolen.’ Shedidn’tbelong to him. None of them had a right to court her.
“It’s not funny,” Aevrin muttered angrily. “He’s being mighty disrespectful to a real lady.” Gramma Prisca propped her chin up on one hand and studied him.
“You’ve got it bad, boy.”
“Got what bad?” Aevrin asked, still scowling.
“Morning,” Sorven called, barreling into the kitchen practically without looking and racing to the preservation chest. He yanked it open and tossed a loaf of sliced bread onto the counter, then shoved his head back into the chest. One of the roots shifted across the chest’s top, groaning slightly about how wide Sorven had opened the lid.
“Sorven? Are you looking for something?” Cassia asked, as she flipped another batch of fritters perfectly up into the air with a skillful jerk of her wrist. Aevrin tore his eyes away again.
“I’m making lunch today,” Sorven said, as he tossed a cloth-wrapped wedge of cheese onto the counter. It landed on top of the bread, wobbled, and slid down onto the counter. Sorven’s head was still buried in the chest.
“I already did that,” Cassia informed him.
Sorven straightened slowly and turned his head to stare wide-eyed at Cassia.
“...What?”
“They’re all wrapped up on that shelf,” she told him, flipping over a couple pieces of bacon and then pointing with the spatula. Sorven turned and stared for a moment at the neatly wrapped bundles, each tied with a bow.
“Really?” Sorven asked in disbelief, turning to stare at Cassia again. “Wow, Cassia. Um, it's real nice having you stay here."
Aevrin exhaled hard out his nose, set his jaw, and started scraping his plate clean. He didn’t like how Sorven was looking at her, either. Did either of his brothers even know how to say the words ‘thank you?’ Did either of them have an ounce ofrespect for a woman who’d been through hell and woken up Saints knewhowearly to do all this for them?
"Would you like an omelet or scrambled eggs?” Cassia said.
“You’re making mine first, though, right?” Mavek interrupted anxiously, gripping his mug. “I was here before Sorven.”
“Put that stuff away and let that poor chest close, Sorven,” Gramma Prisca ordered. The potted plants powering the chest were moaning softly in annoyance, leaves rustling slowly. Sorven startled upright, quickly stuffed the bread and cheese back to their places, then gently lowered the lid with a whispered apology.
Aevrin stood, took a gulp of grallo, and dumped his plate a little too loudly on the stack of dishes in the sink.
“Thank you again for breakfast, Cassia,” he growled. “It was mighty kind of you.” He turned around just in time to see Mavek sliding into the seat Aevrin had been in. There was still another spot at the kitchen table, but it was beginning to feel far too crowded, and he could hear his father coming down the stairs. “I’ll go check the dragon’s troughs,” he said to nobody in particular, and strode away from the kitchen’s warmth, into the rooms of the house the morning light hadn’t yet reached.
Cassia
Cassiagrinnedasshepiled breakfast’s dishes next to the crowded washbasin. The men had left for the pastures, and Gramma to her office. The first step of Cassia’s plan was complete.
