There was an edge to her words that made me step away, forcing a smile. I thought of Grace. We hadn’t spoken all day because I’d been uncomfortable keeping her secret from Lesana. But right then, all I could remember was that Grace didn’t like Lesana. She kept her distance from her. I wondered what it was she saw that I hadn’t before.
“If I give you my word, you have it,” I told her, restless at the thought that she would question my loyalties. “I hope you know that.”
“AndIknow desperation well,” Lesana whispered, holding my gaze. “I know that you would do anything to get what you want, no matter the cost, no matter who you hurt.”
I frowned.
She smiled.
“Kitchen,” she told me after a lengthy pause. “Draan is expecting you.”
On hollow legs, I turned and left, her words following me down the stretch of hallway to the back of RaanaDyaan.
When I reached the smoky kitchen, Draan scowled at me from over his prep table.
“Chop those,” he ordered me, gesturing to a pile of multicolored wild roots with a sharpened blade. “And stay out of my way.”
“Yes, Draan.”
* * *
The cool airfelt glorious on my pink cheeks when I finally escaped the kitchen for a short reprieve.
I’d forgotten.
I’d forgotten a full night in a kitchen.
I’d forgotten the heat, a sweat-slicked neck, and a furrowed brow. The bustle, which sometimes felt like the frantic, intoxicating, humid streets of Qapot’a. Thelife—a frenetic pulse, a running current, a constant sparking of energy.
The singular state of mind where distractions melted away and I knew every millisecond of what would come next. Every fraction of a moment carefully spliced and then sewn back together into something new. With ingredients I was familiar with, I knew how many moments I had with a glance at the sear, by the flip of a fish, by a singular curl of steam rising from a simmering sauce.
I was out of practice, I knew. But I thought I’d surprised Draan tonight. So much so that he’d asked, “Where did you train?”
I’d only smiled. “I’m not a culinarian,” I’d told him, wiping up a spill ofonucream on the prep table.
Because I wasn’t. My father had been. And I’d trained with him all my life—but just as an extra set of hands.
A lifetime in a kitchen, however, had made for a very good education.
Now I slipped from RaanaDyaanand went down the alleyway. We were situated at the end of a row of shops in this village. Right next door was a clothier, though their windows were currently dark, as was the entire street. The bleeding tree was the only thing within the wide alley, a remnant of a seed that had floated from Stellara and hadn’t been plucked from the earth before it had taken root.
I blew out a breath, tempted to slide to the ground since I’d been on my feet for most of the day. Instead, I merely leaned back, letting the tree take most of my weight as my gaze slid to the edge of Stellara.
There was a rustle of wings and heavy footsteps in the courtyard beyond, but the wall blocked them from view. Not many lingered on this side of RaanaDyaan. On the opposite side, at the common room exit, was where most gathered for fresh air.
I saw the curl ofloresmoke before I saw him.
I’d known he was here, after all.
My breath stilled in my lungs as I watched him come fully into view. He had his back to me, and he was lingering near the edge of the road that separated the shops from Stellara.
He was alone. Smoking, the tip of hislorepipe a bright blue in the darkness.
I guess his brothers didn’t join him tonight,I thought.
Though I shouldn’t have dared, my gaze traveled down the stretch of his back, admiring the span of his wings, even relaxed. He was in a dark green fitted vest, sleek black pants with silver catches, and pristine boots. Not a hair was out of place, and even alone, he held himself stiffly, his movements measured and controlled.
I wondered what he would look likeuntamed. A little feral. I wondered what he looked like in his berserker state. A state I had never witnessed before—at least not in real life. Only in research and from what my father had told me over the years from his own experiences.
