“May the Creator bless you,” I told him, reaching out to place my hand on his.
“No, may the Creator blessyou. And may you win the Arcane Trials.”
My stomach did a somersault then, staring into the blue eyes of an Elite who believed in me? It felt surreal.
I glanced across the field, at the tree line, to see a pair of yellow glowing eyes watching me.
I wasn’t sure I was going to win while partnered with a traitor wolf. Though I didn’t have any choice.
Chapter Nine
That night I slept restlessly. Before bed, Cassian and Kaelric got into an argument about how to best protect me from a night attack. Kaelric made it sound like it was all but a guarantee that an attack on my life would come. Every sound woke me, every creak. By the time the morning light shone through the curtains, I felt half dead, having gotten barely forty-five minutes of straight sleep. After showering and changing into some athletic clothes that had been left for me, I made my way into the living room.
The pants and t-shirt were probably supposed to be tight on Fiona, but I kept having to pull them up, as they swam on my thin frame.
Cassian was gone, and Kaelric was in the kitchen… cooking.
“Where are the servants?” I asked.
Each bonded pair was given a maid and cook to make all our meals and do the laundry, and housekeeping, while we focused on training before the first trial.
Kaelric stood over the giant black stove, hair in a topknot as he scrambled some eggs. His tunic strained against his flexing biceps, and I found myself mentally remarking at how nicely his clothes fit him—compared to mine.
“I don’t trust anyone to cook for us and not poison us,” he grumbled.
Wow, this guy was paranoid.
“No one attacked in the night. Which means I tossed and turned for nothing,” I snipped, going to grab a piece of bread.
He reached out and stayed my hand. “Sit. I’ll serve you.”
It was a command, but being served food was not something I minded being commanded on. I normally didn’t do breakfast, so this was going to be a big change for me. Something I didn’t want to get used to. If I lost the trial and somehow returned to the Dregs alive, I’d have to go back to one to two meals a day.
I sat there quietly for another five minutes just watching him work. He moved around the kitchen like he was used to it.
“Do you cook for yourself back home, too?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Hmm, he was really good at the one-word responses.
“No family?” I mean, we might as well try to get to know each other. My mother did most of the cooking. I didn’t know how to fry an egg because we rarely got eggs, and boiling rats was disgusting, so she did it.
“None left alive.” He set a plate before me, shocking me with his words.
None left alive…? What did that mean? They were killed? Or died in some accident? Or of natural causes?
I glanced down at the plate and my eyes widened.
“Are we sharing this?”
There were at least four scrambled eggs, two pieces of bread slathered with thick butter, and two huge hunks of cheese, as well as fresh fruit!
“No, we are not. And the ham is still cooking, but will be ready soon. You need to bulk up, get stronger,” was all he said before going back to the stove, where I could see he was frying some thick ham slices.
Bulk up. I peered nervously down at my skinny arms, and even though he didn’t mean it, his comment hurt.
“I’m not even hungry,” I told him. “I’m still full from the big dinner last night.”
