“Scrambled, fried, or poached?” he asked.
“Eggs again?” Magdala set her teacup down with a clink. “We’ve had eggs for every meal for four days.”
“It’s all we need, really,” Asherton said. “Eggs and fish and an occasional handful of berries. Chicken now and then. Mushrooms once, but that backfired. It was fun for an hour or two, but then Zephyr made me throw up, which was not fun.”
Magdala rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Could you at least mix something into the eggs? To make them taste like food?”
Asherton scowled. “Like what?”
“Tomatoes, cheese, mushrooms?”
“What kind of mushrooms?” he asked suspiciously.
Magdala threw her hands up in frustration. If she was going to be trapped here for at least another three days, she refused to eat the same meal nine more times.
“Clean off the counter,” she ordered. “You’re a messy cook.”
“I was going to do it later …”
“NOW!”
“I’m sorry, am I confused?” Asherton said, setting down his bowl of eggs. “Because I thought that I was the future king of Allagesh and you were working for me.”
“Clean the counter,” Magdala gritted, “or I will poison your disgusting eggs.”
Asherton frowned. “I was going to clean it anyway.”
Laughing sardonically, Magdala snatched a basket from the bare pantry and marched down to the garden.
With some tenacity and good luck, Magdala excavated a tomato vine, some purple peppers, and a basil plant almost big enough to hold a bird’s nest. In the woods, she uncovered a patch of mushrooms (not poisonous) huddled under a decaying log.
Upon returning, she found Asherton leaning against the clean counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “Where did you get those?”
Magdala took a knife from a drawer. “Sit,” she ordered.
Asherton chuckled and Magdala glanced away. He had perfect white teeth, and when he smiled, something odd tickled inside her chest. Indigestion.
Asherton sat, and she lay the knife and tomatoes in front of him. “Slice these.”
He lifted the knife like he meant to cut someone’s throat.
Magdala grabbed his wrist. “Have you never cut a vegetable before?” she asked, incredulous.
Asherton’s brow pinched. “They left that bit out of my military school education.”
With a persecuted sigh, Magdala pulled a chair next to his and sat beside him. When she lifted the knife, he leaned away from her.
“I’m far too hungry to kill you right now,” she said.
He flashed her another acid reflux-inducing smile. “And too tidy to do it in the kitchen, I suspect.”
“Very true.” Magdala demonstrated how to cut the tomato. Awkwardly, Asherton mimicked her, but the troublesome vegetable shot out from under the blade and rolled onto the floor.
Magdala groaned. “It’s hopeless,” she said. “You can remove a man from royalty, but you cannot remove the royalty from the man.”
“Find me one other prince who knows how to cook!” Asherton cried defensively. “At least I can make eggs.”
“Oh, I have had your eggs, and they are nothing to brag about.”
