I clasped my hands together on top of the table. “I’ll leave it to you.”
“Clamfish with wine sauce?” He turned and walked to the enchanted sideboard. He pulled two slabs of fish from underneath then deftly tossed an onion from one hand to the other.
“Is clamfish with wine sauce to your taste, Marietta?” he said with a glimmer.
The high was still upon me, but the wariness gained legs. “Are you sure you should try something that complicated? I will settle for something simpler.” Let it not be said that I lacked stubbornness.
“No, no, no, Marietta. I can’t have you settling.” He smirked, tossed a fillet knife into the air, made a flourishing cut with a sidestroke, then another. He sent the knife twirling end over end until its handle landed on the handle of another. A thicker knife bounced up and whirled along the return path and into his hand. He caught it midair, portioning the fillets in perfect strokes as ifborn to the knife. Vegetables and dry ingredients zoomed from the pantry, then filed themselves across the high cooking table.
My feet moved of their own volition to stand next to him, one hand resting on the table edge.
“There is a reason you don’t eat much at the table, isn’t there?” Cooks sampled as they went.
“There is.”
“Rosaire doesn’t make the soups, does she?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“She does not.”
I closed my eyes at the confirmation. Of course. Lucian had almostcorrectedme. “You must have gotten a nice laugh at my expense.”
He looked at me through the fall of his hair while he diced. “No. It’s just something I don’t share with most.”
“But Lucian assumed I knew.”
“Lucian is usually away at school where he should be.”
I tilted my head to study him as he crushed the garlic clove, minced the shallots, and washed, trimmed, and quartered the mushrooms, setting aside for the moment the interesting fact that he didn’t share this with others—and yet was sharing it with me.
“You never attended school, did you? You speak as if you did. You carry yourself as a graduate of the finest institutions when you want to. But Alcroft said something about wanting you to go to Gildonvale.”
“I had the best teacher possible. But no, I didn’t attend Gildonvale or Tarling or Harthouse. Nor Faversound or Westcamp.”
“But Lucian has. He does.”
“Yes. And he will finish.”
“Because you never had a chance to go?”
“Because he will have opportunities I never did.”
I looked around the kitchen then at his fine clothes, sleeves rolled up and baring his forearms. “You haven’t done poorly.”
He owned a house in Ember Square, one of the rising estate squares. And if my assumption was correct, an entire street here, powered entirely byhim. I hadn’t seen a single person enter or leave any of the other surrounding properties. In a city where land and magic were king, he had a kingdom.
Anonmore powerful than any gilded, hiding in their shadows.
He didn’t respond.
I picked up a knife and quartered the carrots, trying to make myself useful—the challenge moot. If he was the one making the soups, stews, and bread I had been devouring every day, there was no competition. The Frostwoods’ celebrated chef wasn’t half as good.
I sliced another carrot. “What do you do with the ten thousand gold you collect from the paid cases?”
“A somewhat personal question, don’t you think?” He dropped his ingredients into the pot and then picked up my carrots and dropped them in as well.
“I could go back to asking you about schooling.”
“I could ask you why you haven’t married.”
