"Now—" He began unpacking the cloth bundle he'd carried—bread, cold meat, hard cheese, some kind of preserve in a clay pot. "Now they see me following you around like a lovesick youth and they don't know whether to congratulate me or check me for fever."
Delia laughed. The sound still surprised her sometimes, how easily it came now, how unguarded. In Valdara, she'd learned to swallow her laughter, to keep herself small and quiet and unremarkable. Here, with the sun warm on her face and thisimpossible orc laying a feast before her, she couldn't remember why she'd ever bothered.
"Eat," Ralvar said, pushing a loaded plate into her hands. "Brenneth works you hard."
"Brenneth barely speaks to me."
"That's how you know he approves." Ralvar tore a chunk from the bread loaf and stuffed it in his mouth. "If he didn't like your work, you'd know. Trust me."
Delia took a bite of the bread. It was dense and dark, nothing like the pale loaves she'd grown up with, and she found herself making a small sound of pleasure. Someone had mixed savory, unfamiliar herbs into the dough that made her want to eat the whole loaf.
"Good?" Ralvar was watching her intensely, like her enjoyment of bread was somehow fascinating.
"Very good." She reached for the preserve, dipping a corner of bread into the dark paste. Berries, she thought, but sweeter than any she'd tasted. "What is this?"
"Thornberry. Grows wild on the upper slopes. The cooks harvest it in autumn, before the first frost." He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers. "Careful, it stains. You'll have purple fingers for a week."
Too late. Delia looked down at her fingertips, already darkening where the preserve had touched. She laughed and licked them clean, then caught Ralvar staring at her mouth with an expression that made heat climb up her neck.
"Eat your own food," she said, nudging him with her elbow.
"I'm eating." But he didn't look away, and his voice had dropped to something rougher. "I'm also enjoying the view."
She ducked her head, hiding her smile behind another bite of bread. The cold meat was next—thinly sliced, well-seasoned, tender enough to melt on her tongue.
"You're staring again," she said without looking up.
"I like watching you eat." No shame in his voice, no apology. "You spent too long starving. Seeing you enjoy food—" He shrugged, a massive roll of shoulders. "It pleases me."
A shadow fell across their blanket. Delia looked up to find Sergeant Korah standing over them, his graying temples catching the afternoon light.
"Captain." Korah's gaze flicked between them. "Delia."
"Sergeant." Ralvar didn't stand, didn't shift from his sprawled position beside her. "Something urgent?"
"Nothing that can't wait until you've finished your—" Korah paused, surveying the spread of food, the blanket, the way Ralvar's hand rested possessively near Delia's knee. "Picnic."
"Good." Ralvar picked up another chunk of bread. "Then it can wait."
Korah snorted. "The supply manifest needs your mark before evening. And Thessaly wants to know if yourkrennaneeds more of the ankle poultice."
"I'm fine," Delia said quickly. "It barely twinges anymore."
"I'll tell her." Korah nodded to them both, then paused. "It's good to see you out here, Captain. In daylight. Not scowling."
"I scowl plenty."
"Not lately." Korah walked away before Ralvar could respond, his shoulders shaking with what might have been silent laughter.
Delia watched him go. "Does everyone here tease you?"
"Only the ones who've known me long enough to survive it." Ralvar's voice was dry, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "Korah's been my sergeant for eleven years. He's earned certain liberties."
Delia smiled, tucking her legs beneath her on the blanket. The afternoon sun warmed her shoulders pleasantly.
"Eleven years," she said. "That's a long time to serve under someone."
"He was here before me. Served under the previous captain, and stayed when I took command." Ralvar reached for the cheese, cutting a thick slice with his belt knife. "Most don't last that long on the border. The work wears on you. Cold winters, long patrols, too much time watching for threats that may never come."
