I forced my expression into something neutral, something that didn't betray the urge to snarl at every curious face. Instead, I pulled out a chair for Jordan, the scrape of wood against earth impossibly loud in the watching silence.
She hesitated—just a heartbeat—before sitting, moving with that same fluid grace despite the exhaustion still shadowing her features.
Zuhra materialized moments later bearing a tray that could have fed a small army—roasted meat glistening with fat and herbs, root vegetables caramelized to golden perfection, and flatbread so fresh the steam still curled from its surface. Thescent alone was enough to make my mouth water. A clay pot of tea and two mugs completed the offering, which she set between us with a flourish.
"Eat," she commanded, brooking no argument. "Both of you look half-starved."
Then she caught my eye and did something that sent ice sliding down my spine. The smallest nod. A flicker of approval. Her gaze darted meaningfully to Jordan before returning to mine with an expression that saidI see exactly what's happening here.
My stomach dropped.
She turned away, utterly unrepentant, humming as she returned to her domain.
"This looks incredible," Jordan breathed, already reaching for the flatbread. Thank the ancestors she'd missed that entire exchange. "I didn't realize how hungry I was until just now."
I watched her tear off a piece, watched her bring it to those soft lips, and my hand was already moving. Without conscious thought, I selected the choicest cut of meat from the tray—tender and perfectly seasoned—and transferred it to her plate.
"Try the boar," I heard myself say. "It's Zuhra's specialty."
Jordan paused, the bread halfway to her mouth. Her eyes found mine, something unreadable flickering in their depths. "Oh. Thank you."
But I wasn't done. My hands continued their work, adding roasted vegetables to her portion, making sure she had the best pieces, ensuring her plate was properly filled. It was only right. She was my guest. Under my protection. She'd saved Ardin's life, for fuck's sake. Any decent host would do the same.
The whispers erupted like wildfire.
I glanced up to find every remaining soul in the common house staring at us with naked fascination. Kira, one of the younger females, had both hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes round as moons. Old Throk beside her wore a grin so wide I could count all three of his remaining teeth.
Heat crawled up the back of my neck. "Something you need?" I growled.
They dispersed like smoke, suddenly finding urgent business elsewhere in the room.
Jordan glanced around, her brow furrowing. "Did I... did I do something wrong?"
"No." The word came out too sharp, too quick. I gentled my tone with effort. "They're curious, that's all. We don't see many outsiders."
True enough. Just not the whole truth.
Because the whole truth? The whole truth was that I'd just performed the opening move in an ancient courtship ritual without even realizing it. Among my people, when a male hand-selects food for a female—choosing the finest pieces, ensuring her plate overflows with care—it's a declaration. The first deliberate step in a mating dance older than the mountains themselves.
And I'd done it as unconsciously as drawing breath.
Jordan ate with unguarded enthusiasm, humming soft notes of contentment that wreaked absolute havoc on my composure. I mechanically lifted food to my own mouth, barely tasting it, each bite like swallowing sand.
"This is really good," she said, her eyes brightening. "I haven't had a proper meal in days."
The image of her hungry, struggling, alone—it ignited something primal in my chest. "You will eat well here. Zuhra will see to that personally."
"She seems wonderful. How long has she been village keeper? That's like a manager, right?"
"Close enough." I reached for the tea, the warm ceramic grounding me. "She's guided my clan for thirty years, perhaps more. We were fortunate when she chose to leave the underground and join us." I tore a piece of flatbread, using it to gather vegetables. "Nothing occurs in this village without passing through her awareness first."
"Including mysterious human doctors materializing from thin air?"
I caught her gaze, surprised to find playfulness dancing there instead of suspicion. "Especially that."
Her laughter spilled out—unguarded, melodic, utterly genuine—and something behind my ribs constricted painfully. Around us, conversations faltered. Heads turned. Eyes tracked the sound of her joy, the sight of us sharing this moment at the head table.
Let them stare, I thought with sudden, reckless defiance. She saved Ardin's life. She's earned every honor we can bestow.
