"It is," I respond. "Though a well-made quiche isn't so bad."
He chuckles. "Fair enough. So why the sudden urge for quiche?" He pulls out a few ingredients and sets them on the side, presumably for a quiche crust.
"Veronica thinks that Kathryn might be getting sick, and she said that she was going to rest tomorrow. I suggested she ask for something comforting from the kitchen, and she requested quiche."
Nate's whole face softens as he looks at me.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," he says.
"Do you have a good quiche recipe?" I ask.
"I do. It should be fairly close to the start of the book." He gestures to the leatherbound book sitting on the table. "You should look at it while I go out to the ice house for the other ingredients."
I put my hand on top of the book, feeling the comforting leather cover. It's exactly the same as my own book of recipes, mostly because that's what I bought for him. "I can't believe you used this."
"I didn't think you gave it to me for me to ignore," he says as he stands in the doorway, not quite gone, but almost stepping out of it.
"You still didn't have to."
"I know, Evie," he responds. "But it made me think of you every time I wrote in a recipe."
I can't help the smile that spreads over my face as he says that. "It looks like you might need a new one soon."
"I might," he agrees. "I don't have much space left. You should tell me where you got that one from because I think I'll get it again."
"I can get it for you."
"You don't have to do that," he says.
"It can be a welcome back to the castle gift."
Nate laughs. "You don't have to get me any gifts, you know that."
"You and Veronica have both explained to me that gifts are customary to give to loved ones," I respond. "So why wouldn't I get you something?" The moment the words are out of my mouth, I wonder if they're the right thing to say, especially with how I'm feeling about Nate.
A strange expression crosses his face, but I have no idea what causes it, and I'm a little scared to ask. I can't take it if he tells me that he knows I'm in love with him and he doesn't feel the same. It would break my heart, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to put it back together after that.
He clears his throat. "You can buy me gifts. Within reason."
"All right. What are your rules?" I ask.
"It has to be something useful."
"That goes without saying. I don't see the point of gifts that don't have a purpose. What am I supposed to do with those?"
"You like Ember," he points out, looking over at the wood-fired oven. Ember is curled around her slightly smoking pile of meat, carefully eating pieces of it.
"I do, but she's a living thing. That's a different situation."
"Before you get any ideas, you can't get me anything living," he says sternly.
"A horse would be useful," I muse.
"You can't get me a horse, Evie."
"Why not? There are some well-bred ones in the royal stables."
