I feel like an idiot.
“So,” the Sorceress continues, smiling sweetly, “Did they pleasure you well? I trust they did. The flowers in my bath are always very thorough.”
My face flames.
“Oh, um…”
“They did an excellent job,” Valen says smoothly, saving me. “I tried them myself.”
“Well then, I’m so pleased you were both satisfied. And now—let us feast!”
Lady Thornmere claps her hands once, and?—
The feast appears.
It’s so sudden I let out a very unladylike squeak of surprise. One moment the table is bare…and the next, it’s overflowing.
The scents hit me first—roasted meats…sharp spices…caramelized sugar. There’s also something floral and smoky and intoxicating. I blink at the spread in stunned fascination.
There’s a roast beast at the center—something that looks like a boar, but its skin is flecked with golden scales, and the meat glistens red-gold in the candlelight. The scent is heavenly—rosemary, citrus, and something earthy and faintly sweet.
Beside it is a massive platter of buttered root vegetables—beets, parsnips, and orange tubers I don’t recognize—all dusted with herbs and what looks like powdered crystals that might be sugar or salt or both. They steam gently, the scent rich and savory.
There’s a basket of what look like muffins—but when I lift one, it shifts in my hand like jelly. They’re soft—almost quivering—and smell like cinnamon and rosewater. I set it down quickly.
There are tall glasses filled with pale blue bubbling wine that emits a cool mist. Valen tastes his and nods in appreciation. I take a sip and find that the bubbles tickle my nose.
Farther down the table, I spy something alarming—a wriggling dish of silver noodles that shimmer and twitch like they’re still alive. I immediately pretend I didn’t see it and hope the Sorceress doesn’t offer me any.
Valen, naturally, tries everything.
He piles his plate high, takes a bite of the roast beast and nods with approval. He pops one of the shimmering muffins into his mouth, then washes it down with the chilled blue wine. He even likes the silver noodles.
“This is incredible,” he mutters, already going back for seconds.
I’m more cautious. I try a slice of roast—the flavor explodes on my tongue, rich and tangy with a hint of orange blossom. I nibble a sugared tuber and am rewarded with a slow burn of heat and spice. But I leave the noodles. I also refuse the wriggling pudding that appears later, blinking once with an embedded eyeball. Magic or not, I don’t want to eat something that can see me biting into it.
The Sorceress nibbles the various dishes and watches me throughout with a smile that’s far too knowing.
She’s enjoying this—I can tell. She likes watching my reaction to the food and enjoys watching me squirm in my dress. She also likes watching Valen devour the food.
I wonder what her game is—maybe it’s time to find out.
52
VALEN
The food is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted—a riot of spice and sweetness—textures and heat that make my tongue feel like it’s waking up after a long sleep. After starving most of the way through the forest—after scraping meals together and rationing everything—even the strangest dishes on the Sorceress’s table taste like luxury.
Irena sits to my right, flushed and distracted, still fighting with the ridiculous excuse for a gown she’s wearing. Every time she moves, the bodice slips lower or the skirt rides higher. She keeps tugging at it, trying—and failing—to cover both her nipples and her pussy at the same time.
Gods help me, she looks fucking incredible.
Her scent still clings to her—honey, flowers, and something unmistakably aroused. The bath did things to her. I know it did—I can smell it. I can feel it, sitting this close to her.
Don’t think about it, I tell myself.
But it’s too late—I can’t stop.
