Mab watched them eat, some of the tightness in her shoulders loosening.
Drogga nodded toward Tibbs. "Heard you took a swing at my brother."
Tibbs stilled, bread halfway to his mouth. His eyes flicked to Varek, then back to Drogga. "He was reaching for Mab."
"And you went for him with a boning knife." Drogga's grin widened. "Brave or stupid. Haven't decided which."
"Both," Varek said. His voice rumbled through his chest and into Mab's back.
"Both is good." Drogga leaned his elbows on the table, giving Tibbs his full attention. "A warrior who's only brave gets himself killed. A warrior who's only stupid gets everyone else killed. You need both in the right amounts."
Tibbs's brow furrowed. "I'm not a warrior."
Drogga picked up a chunk of meat and bit into it, talking around the mouthful. "Not yet."
Mab watched the exchange, watched Tibbs's shoulders slowly drop from their defensive hunch, watched Annie lean forward to listen.
A hand appeared in front of her face. Varek's hand, holding a piece of bread torn from the loaf.
"You're not eating."
"I'm fine."
"You're watching them eat." His voice was low, meant only for her. "When did you last have food?"
Mab tried to remember. "Yesterday morning," she said. "I think."
"Open." The word was quiet. Not a command, exactly. But not a request either.
Mab opened her mouth.
Varek placed the bread on her tongue. His fingers brushed her lip as he withdrew, and she felt the touch all the way down to her stomach.
She chewed. Swallowed. The bread was good. Crusty on the outside, soft within.
"More," Varek said.
This time it was meat. A strip of roasted pork tender enough to fall apart on her tongue. He held it steady while she took it from his fingers, and his thumb grazed the corner of her mouth, catching a drop of grease.
He brought his thumb to his own mouth and licked it clean.
A small sound escaped her, involuntary, caught in the back of her throat.
Varek's arm tightened around her waist. "Good?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
He fed her another piece. And another. The rhythm of it settled into something that felt almost natural. She stopped thinking about the hall full of orcs. Stopped thinking about the nightgown, the strangeness, the thirty pairs of eyes that might or might not be watching.
There was only his hand. His warmth at her back. The food he placed on her tongue like an offering.
"—and then what happened?" Annie's voice cut through the haze.
Drogga was in the middle of a story, his hands moving through the air to illustrate something. Annie was leaning forward, bread forgotten in her grip. Even Tibbs had stopped eating to listen.
"The bear came out of the river," Drogga said, his hands spreading wide to indicate size. "Bigger than this table. Water pouring off it like a waterfall. And Varek—" He jerked his thumb toward his brother. "Varek just stands there. Doesn't move. Doesn't reach for his axe. Just stands there looking at this bear like it owes him coin."
Annie's mouth fell open. "What did he do?"
