“Please, good sir, call me Cara. And yes, two drinks for us, if we may. What might the kitchen be serving this fine day?”
His mouth spreads in a wide grin. “Only the best for you, Mistress Cara! Lamb stew with fresh-baked bread and our signature ripe cheese.”
Sable’s jaw drops, and she tugs on my arm.
“Did you want more?” I ask. I knew she’d be hungry, but that sounded like more than enough for such a tiny wolf like her. “Or maybe something else? I can ask if they'd make you something special if you'd like…”
“No!” She pulls me closer and stands on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear. “Lamb is too expensive! Maybe you can get the lamb, and I'll just eat your bread and cheese?”
Oh, my heart!
I turn back to the man behind the counter. “Two lamb meals, please, and two of your best desserts.” Sable opens her mouth to protest, but I clamp a hand over it to shush her. “You'll eat your fill and like it, or I'm ordering double dessert for you.”
Her brows furrow in a scowl, but her lips turn up into a grin beneath my hand. She gives me a shy nod, and I gesture to the barkeep to place our order with the kitchen. He ambles off, and I turn a stool around to straddle it. Sable looks askance at my posture and chooses to sit properly in her own stool next to mine. Her legs aren't quite long enough to reach the bar near the bottom, so she swings her feet like a child as we sip our ale and wait for the food. I decide to gently question her about her origins under the guise of small talk.
“What brings you to this neck of the woods?” I take a sip and peek at her over the lip of my tankard, checking out her reaction to the question.
Sable shrugs a shoulder and stares into her mug. “I’m kind of between homes at the moment. The, uh, last place I lived in didn’t work out, so I was on my way from town to town in search of new lodging.”
A safe enough answer, I suppose, but perhaps a bit too safe. She hasn’t revealed anything specific yet, but that's not necessarily reason not to trust her. “What kind of work did you do?”
Her knuckles turn white as she grips the handle of her mug tighter. “I studied. With the clergy. I didn’t really have a job or profession.”
“Oh! You’re a student of Solari?”
There’s a brief pause. “The Flame God, yes.”
Odd way to phrase it, as most wolves call Him the Sun God, but not entirely incorrect I suppose. “Did you always know you had the Sun God’s gifts?”
That cute blush of hers flames in her cheeks, and she nods. “I don’t use them often. They bring … undue attention at times. I much prefer to live a simple life, free from all the stares and what have you.”
Her phrasing confuses me. Undue attention? Us wolves wholly embrace the Sun God and His chosen. She should be showered with devotion if she displays His gifts. Does she not like that kind of attention, perhaps? It seems strange to me, but I’m an Alpha wolf; I thrive on the devotion of my fellow wolves. Maybe Sable is more of a Beta, or an Omega. I suppose that makes sense. An Omega wolf wouldn’t want to be the center of attention. No, they’d be more comfortable as a supporter, really. The perfect, quiet little wife.
Wife?!
The shock of my own thoughts causes me to choke on my next swig of ale, and I struggle to regain my breath as a fit of coughing seizes me.
“Cara, are you okay?” Sable’s pretty face blanches, and she reaches for me. In between hacking coughs, I see the tiniest hint of flames flickering at her fingertips, and I realize she’s going to try to heal me—right here, in front of the whole tavern. I snatch her hand before she can, patting it to reassure her.
“Wrong pipe!” I choke out, and as my coughing eases, some of the tension melts out of her shoulders. I force a laugh and shake my head. “I guess that’ll teach me that I need to take my time and not chug my ale, huh?” I give her a wink, and she rewards me with a shy smile.
Just then, the barkeep returns with our meals. We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, save for tiny moans of pleasure as we taste the delicious lamb stew. Spiced to perfection, the lamb is tender and moist, and the broth is hearty and thick with flavor. The warm, soft bread pairs nicely with the soft cheese spread, and before long, we’ve both devoured it all. Sable hiccups, and for the first time I hear her giggle. The sound is musical, and I can’t help the smile that breaks out at hearing her comfortable in her surroundings.Thisis what she should sound like: happy. Not scared, timid, broken.
I should feed her more often.
The dessert comes right as we finish, and Sable’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as she takes in the layered cakes smothered in strawberry sauce and whipped cream. I raise my fork in mock salute before we dig in, listening intently to the satisfied sounds she makes while she eats.
I find myself wishing I could hear those little mewls and moans in a more private setting, when I’m eating something else entirely.
Again my thoughts startle me, though this time I manage to keep from aspirating my food.
Once we’ve licked our plates clean and had our mugs refilled, we retire to a booth near the back of the tavern for more privacy. I know I should be making haste back to the palace to deal with the panther threat in our territory, but I find myself preferring the company of my new charge. I enjoy seeing her open up, bit by bit, and if we have to linger in this town for a day or two, so be it.
Sable turns the tables on me by asking about my life, and I fall into a comfortable rhythm of question and answer, letting her guide the conversation. I tell her about how I was found as a pup, summoning flames to warm myself at the side of the road, my parents nowhere in sight. I tell her about my early life in the palace, being raised by priests and nannies and the Elders. I tell her about my frustration with the Elders’ insistence that I marry Corvin, though I hesitate to reveal the real reason I don’t wish to wed him. I definitely don’t mention that I’d much rather marryher, though I must admit I find the thought more appealing than anything else I could imagine for my future.
It's not something historically done in our society, but … why not? To my knowledge, there are no specific laws against marriage between two women. None explicitly stating that marriage must be between amanand a woman. I wonder, though, if there’s a chance for people like me, or like Hugh and Sym. Could we all find a happy ending in technicalities?
Sable stops mid-sentence just as the stench of excessive alcohol rolls in on the breath of a patron who stumbles loudly up to our table. I stay calm for her sake, but inside I prepare for a fight of some sort, partly because this drunkard also reeks of rage and hate.
