She took my shoulders, staring down at me. “Youdohave the gift.”
What else had I been trying to tell the woman? Hope lifted me. She finally understood. I pulled out the mental list of questions I had about the finer points of feastweaving.
“How can you cook these eggs and have the gift?”
A flash heated my whole body. My mouth opened of its own volition. “My eggs are delicious.” Only respect kept the snap out of my voice.
She clenched her hands at her sides. “Your dish is a bunch of pretentious slop. You want to learn from me, we must strip all your bad habits and we start again.”
Start again? I was better than most chefs on their best da–
Wait! Did that mean she would teach me?
“I don’t care how long it takes. You will make me a decent plate of eggs. Declan will help you.” The forbidding tension on Anise’s face brooked no argument this time.
I wasn’t afraid of hard work, despite the ache that now crept into my bones. I would master this. Declan was smart enough to know how to work around me.
“How did I get dragged into this?” He reached for the food across the kitchen.
“You were ready to help earlier.”
“The crocetta has worn off and I can’t focus on an empty stomach.”
A slice of buttered bread in his mouth would have to do. I cracked an egg with each hand. I let him swallow before ramming the bowl into his grip so I could turn to preparing the pan. Declan sighed, rolling up his metaphorical sleeves. After taking up the whisk with his long fingers, he started shoving the eggs from side to side.
I wouldn’t snap. “What the hells are you doing? You make a circular motion to combine the most amount of air.”
“I'm whisking as you asked!”
His speed increased, every tendon on his forearms standing out as he clutched the bowl to his middle and vigorously beat the eggs. My mouth grew dry watching his muscles twitch and work the mix smooth, his fingers flexing on the handle of the whisk. A vein on his forearm started to throb in time with my shallow breathing. All that fine motor control, the dexterity of his fingers blossomed heat across my skin. His direct eye contact parted my lips.
“Did you come?”
“What?” My brain scrambled as neatly as those eggs.
“Did you come close enough to see? I’m tired now. That has to be good enough.”
There was nothing to say to that so I wrenched thebowl away from him and worked the mixture in the pan. The heat of the stove had to hide my wandering blush. I slipped a pat of butter into the eggs. The steaming plate hit the table just as more siblings entered the kitchen.
Cosomo reached for the plate and Anise slapped his hand. “Manners.”
“Sorry, Momma.”
Would I ever learn to make anyone look as sheepish as Cosomo did? My breath stoppered in my lungs as I waited for her verdict.
She pushed the plate to Briggs and turned to me. “Again.”
Declan let me whisk, sending four more eggs to their demise, without magic this time, as Anise pushed the plate to her offspring and demanded another.
Soon, every one of her children ate some version of my eggs and still she called for another plate. My bones protested, the edge of pain starting to consume my vision but I wouldn’t give up. I couldn’t. These were the most important eggs of my life.
I blew out a breath of frustration. This was supposed to be easy. Declan rubbed my back, ignoring the catcalls from his siblings. That was okay. That’s how mates acted according to him, so if it kept them off our backs while I focused, he could spread me on the butcher block for all I cared.
Wait…
Maybenot that.
Or…
