“Ah, so that’s why you enjoy cooking.” Finnick smiles, but it quickly turns into a wince. “You came at a very bad time for cooking lessons, I fear.”
Despite the heaviness in the air, I laugh. “Yeah, I’m beginning to see that. Seems fitting that I finally leave my small town only to get brought into a kingdom on the brink of starvation.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I would eat poisoned meals from you. Breakfast was that good.” Finnick rubs his slightly bloated stomach, emphasizing his full belly. “I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to eating berries. Do you think you could cook something without them?”
“I can cook anything out of anything, Finnick. I love a good challenge.” The fewer ingredients, the better. It’s fun to learn how to use food in new and creative ways. It doesn’t always work out in my favor, but I still enjoy experimenting with food. Unfortunately, I have very little to work with here. I’m a chef, not a magician. Feeding people will become harder, if not impossible.
“You experiment with food like I do with tonics. Inquisitive minds,” Lady Thalia says. Her eyes scan the table before stopping on a small beaker half full with a strange blue substance. “Do you remember the man in the forest? The one with the black veins?”
The abrupt change in conversation stuns me, but I quickly compose myself. “Yes. He looked like he was in a lot of pain.”
“I’m certain he was,” she says, voice laced with sorrow. “They all are. The cursed black tendrils feed upon their energy. It’s a slow, torturous death. One that could affect the entire kingdom if we can’t stop it.”
“And there’s no cure for it?”
“None,” Lady Thalia admits. “I’ve only been able to give them a modicum of comfort from a few tonics. We allocate a good portion of our food supply to the sick. Food also helps alleviate some of the pain and gives them a boost of energy their body desperately needs to stay alive. It has just been increasingly difficultto manage the sick, since the sickness comes on suddenly, whether they eat poisoned food or not. No one is safe.”
This conversation has done little to clarify why I’m here or what part I’m meant to play in this war. I can only hope that, in time, the answers will reveal themselves. I barely know the new fae family I’ve suddenly become a part of, and yet the idea of losing any of them already makes my stomach churn with dread. Even Zephyr—despite the confusion and tension that still lingers between us—has somehow become someone I don’t want to imagine this world without.
For Niko’s sake, of course.
Despite not being certain of my role here, I’m not completely helpless. “Have the cursed fae eaten today?”
“Not yet. They have two scheduled meals. Dinner is usually served in a few hours,” Lady Thalia says.
“And guess what’s on the menu?” Finnick pauses for dramatic effect. “Berries! I bet you didn’t see that coming.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips. He may be small in size, but his presence is anything but. He’s bold, lively, and impossible to ignore.
“We can pass out the remaining food from breakfast. If we need more, and if nothing has been prepared, could I make something else?” I ask, but then the nerves wash through me, and I quickly add, “I know the supply is limited, but I’ll use what we have and won’t use up too many ingredients.”
“I vote yes. After that breakfast, I officially proclaim you the royal chef.” Finnick jumps up and does a lavish bow. “Oh, Royal Chef, we are but humble servants readyto help…and taste-test. Mostly taste-test. In fact, I really don’t want to help. I would rather just eat.”
“I would love for you to be my royal taste-tester, Prince Finnick.” I grin, playing into his charade.
Finnick puffs out his chest. “I accept this prestigious position.”
“And what position would that be, Brother?” a new voice cuts in, startling me.
I jump at the unexpected sound, and low, amused laughter echoes from behind. Spinning around, I find Niko casually leaning against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at his lips. Just behind him stands Zephyr, lingering close, his presence quiet but intense. Niko’s dark eyes sweep over the room, sharp and unreadable.
My breath hitches, momentarily freezing me to the spot. I swear his lip curls into a knowing smirk, but in the next second, Zephyr looks away, leaving me oddly hollow.
That is, until Niko turns his gaze on me, the warmth in his smile sending heat through my body. Between Niko’s sweetness and Zephyr’s broodiness—complete opposites, and yet I find myself attracted to both—I’m never going to survive this marriage. There will be little left of me but a melted puddle at their feet.
Damn these two.
“Eva is going to hand out the rest of the breakfast and make dinner for the cursed. I get to be her taste-tester,” Finnick says, pulling me from my wayward and inappropriate thoughts.
“Hardly seems fair that I don’t get to be the official taste-tester for my betrothed,”Niko says.
And I melt a little more.
“You can help,” I hear myself saying, my brain slow to process my own words. “I always love company in the kitchen. I’ll even let you lick the spoon.” I giggle awkwardly because of course I do.
Amusement colors his features as he turns toward Zephyr. “What do you say, mate? Shall we embarrass ourselves in front of Evangeline?”
“There’s only one embarrassment here,mate, and it’s not me.”
