“Yes, while still maintaining his intended flavor profiles, which proved difficult at times,” I admitted. “But…we make a good team.Made,” I corrected, clearing my throat.
My little artist, he’d call me, pride shining in his voice, admiring the way I’d plated his food. A stray stab of grief and longing ached when I thought of that memory, but I pushed it from my mind. Food was the best way I knew to celebrate and remember my father. I thought he would’ve been proud of what I’d done here tonight.
Kythel’s gaze was gentle, and he reached across the table to take my hand. “I know how much you miss him, Millie.”
“It’s more than that. I missthistoo,” I confessed, sweeping my other hand at the table. “Food…the culture of it all…it was such a big part of my life. These last few months, it’s hardly been a blip. It feels like a missing limb. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“Is that why you did this for me?” he asked. “To remember?”
“No,” I said, softly. “Of course not.”
“Then why? Why did you do this for me?” he asked, his thumb smoothing along the back of my hand.
A loaded question. Our eyes locked and held.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked quietly, and then I held my breath, my heart thudding hard and loud in my chest.
Because I love you and I wanted to give you something that you will always remember,I thought silently.
His hand tightened on mine. His eyes flashed in knowing. Even still…he slowly pulled his hand away.
Trying to force down my disappointment, I gave him another out. For him. For me, to try to salvage a little bit of pride.
“Though, maybe tonight…this was also forme.Because I wanted to share who I used to be with you.”
“It’s not who youusedto be, Millie,” he said, inclining his head. “It’s who you are—just another facet of you.”
I nodded. Silence dropped between us, and I felt a miserable little curl of dread begin in my belly. I didn’t mean to push. But I wasn’t used to holding my feelings back. With Kythel, however, I needed to be careful. I still found it incredibly difficult to navigate.
We ate the dessert in near quiet, the only sound the gentle whoosh of the fire in the hearth. The change was palpable. The tart began to taste like nothing on my tongue.
Finally, Kythel cleared his throat and said, “I’ll be gone the next few nights.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“I have a meeting with my brothers,” he informed me. “In the North.”
“In Laras?” I asked, confused. “I thought Laras was to the west.”
“It is,” he said, leaning back in his chair to regard me over the table. “We’re meeting with the Kaazor.”
“Oh,” I said, uncertain how to respond. “I see.”
I wondered if this had anything to do with the call he’d made in the middle of the night to Azur.
“It’s nothing terrible is it?” I asked. “I mean…you won’t be in danger, will you?”
“The meeting is a formality only. There will be soldiers on both sides of the border, I’m certain,” he said.
“A meeting about what?”
Kythel deliberated a long while before he finally said, “About a Kylorr we believed was a Kaazor spy, one who’d gained access to Azur’s keep. Only for that information to be false. It’s not often we speak with the Kaazor, but both nations agree it’s in our best interests to convene.”
“So you’ll be careful?” I asked, needing to be absolutely sure.
His expression softened slightly. He took in a deep breath and then hesitantly reached for my hand again. I accepted his touch without the hesitation he had, threading my fingers between his. Did it make me pathetic that I longed for his touch? That after the distance between us during the last course, his touch made me feel better? Reconnected?
“I’ll be careful,sasiral,” he told me. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll return the night before the moon winds.”
