He opened the lid of the serving dish and flailed his hand around the rim, searching for the ladle. Locating it successfully, he gave the pot a good stir and lifted out a generous spoonful.
The ladle was halfway to his bowl when the door slammed open, startling him.
Caught in the middle of something he should not be doing, he instantly plopped the ladle back into the pot and slammed the lid back onto it. “This stew smells delicious, Blanca,” he said, covering his embarrassment.
“Thank you,” she responded. “No fish in it, or honey for that matter.”
Aden grinned up at her, then slowly brought his eyes over to Isa.
She had changed her dress, or perhaps she had just removed the large apron she always wore in the library. He couldn’t quite tell since he had not been paying attention. She did smell faintly of roses, as though she had freshened up with a scented soap or something equally nice. However, his sensitive nostrils could still smell the faint whiff of leather and wood he had noticed that first night when he’d held her in his arms.
That thought brought a blush to his face, which he hoped was not visible through his thick fur.
What was his mind doing? He had not “held her in his arms” that night—he had fended off her armed attack! He shook the thoughts away, then realized he was still sitting and jumped up from his chair.
“Lady Bielsa!” He bowed. The extra formality made him feel utterly ridiculous in his beastly form. “Welcome to the feast!”
“It does smell delicious,” Isa said, speaking to Blanca.
“Thank you, milady. It’s just a stew.” Blanca left the room.
Aden would have guessed she was grinning from ear to ear, but he couldn’t quite tell.
Looking back at Isa, Aden gestured to a chair at the table, then pulled it out for her as she approached.
“Thank you,” she said, opening the lid of the pot and serving herself.
Aden reached for the bottle of wine, realizing too late that he would not be able to get a proper grip on the slippery surface. He pulled his hand back, hoping she had not noticed.
He picked up the ladle next, balancing its long handle between his claws.
“Tomorrow is Luca’s turn for cooking, so I would eat well tonight if I were you,” Isa said.
“Should I be worried?” Aden asked, helping himself to another spoonful just in case.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had his cooking.”
She reached for the wine and thankfully poured for them both.
That ancient legend...they had discussed it on the balcony, but what was it called? “Tell me aboutThe Queen of Silverreign?” he asked, hoping she would enjoy speaking of it again.
“The Queen of Silverreign?” She sounded surprised.
“It’s your favorite book, isn’t it? Why do you like it?”
“I do love it,” she said. “It’s the opposite of how you described Floutast. Unlike other ancient works, it focuses on the story instead of getting mired in boring details.”
Aden nodded. He could appreciate that perspective, even if he did not care for the work in question. “I always struggled with it,” he said. “It felt so romanticized.”
“Not enough battles?” Her voice carried both a jest and a warning. This was a topic she cared about.
Aden leaned forward. This was a conversation he was interested in having. “Too unbelievable. Except for the ending, which was the only part I did like.”
Isa jumped out of her chair, leaning forward over the table. “You’ve read the ending?! How does it end? Is it perfect? Where did you find the final volume? I’ve been searching for it for ages!”
Aden leaned back, startled at her sudden outburst. “So many questions. Slow down! Start from the beginning. Wait...” He stared at her face, wishing he could see her expression. She was so excited, so eager. “It’s your favorite book and you haven’t read the ending?”
She shook her head, sinking back into her chair. “It’s so old, I’ve never been able to locate a copy of the final volume.”
