“You don’t want me to keep being your pet?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Not like this,” he growls. “I was drunk and got carried away.”
King Lix’tuk tosses everything back in the bag, then leaves the room. I quickly put my robe on and follow him, the robe dusting the floor behind me. He’s already gone by the time I get to the hallway. I hurry to the kitchen and make the coffee. His is ready, and I’m adjusting the ingredients in mine when he walks through the door.
“Is it safe for me to get my coffee or are you going to spit on me?” he rumbles, his glare less intimidating than normal.
“I’m drinking mine right by the sink,” I say, leaning against it. “And I’m sure I won’t have much, considering how strong it is.”
“Make breakfast,” he grunts, grabbing his cup of coffee and walking into the dining hall.
I look through the fridges until I find what looks like breakfast. Eggs, meats. Possibly an orc biscuit? It’s red and squishy. I put the first plate in the Reviver and wait ten seconds. When I pull it out, the aroma overpowers the blackroot for a moment.Scrambled eggs, and there’s a melted heap of cheese covering them now. My mouth waters as I put the plate to the side.
I bring his plate to the dining hall and put it down in front of him. He stares at it for a second and I realize I forgot the utensils. I mutter an apology, rush to the kitchen, and retrieve them. Finally, I get my plate and join him. He’s already devoured half his meat.
“Eggs were a luxury back home. I always loved them,” I say, picking up the orc-sized fork. “Especially with cheese.”
“That’s the only way orcs eat them,” he growls. “I wonder where humans get eggs from. We don’t supply them with those anymore.”
“No idea,” I say, shrugging slightly. “Chickens from… somewhere?”
“Obviously,” he chuckles, shaking his head.
I might feel foolish, but the first bite of eggs makes me not care about anything. I immediately take a second bite before trying the meat.
“What is this?” I ask, pointing at the roll. “It looks like bread, but it’s not red back home.”
“Fire bread. Spicy.” He takes a bite of his. “Might be too spicy for you.”
“Let me taste it first,” I say, tearing off a sliver and tasting the edge. After a few seconds, the heat registers and I put it down. “Yup, too spicy for me.”
“Good.” He reaches over and snatches my roll, taking a big bite. “More for me.”
“Thank you for warning me,” I say, biting my bottom lip.
“Mmmm,” he growls.
A sip of blackroot coffee cleanses my palate. Or ruins it, I’m not sure. But the eggs are still amazing, so I don’t care. The meat is some kind of pig or boar, I think, but I’ve never had anything like it before.
“Will you be busy all day again today?” I ask, glancing over at him.
“Most of the day,” he growls. “Entertain yourself. You know where I’ll be if you need anything.”
“I’ll probably be in the library,” I say. “After I look through the clothes you got me and find something to wear other than a robe.”
If he cares, he doesn’t respond. He just finishes his breakfast and leaves the plate on the table when he gets up. Then I’m all alone again, a day of reading clearly in my future.
After I’m done with my breakfast, I drink a little more of my coffee before returning to the kitchen. I unload and reload the dishwasher. I wipe down the counters. It’s fairly easy to keep this kitchen spotless, as long as I’m not spitting coffee everywhere. Especially on him. Although that didn’t turn out as badly as I feared.
I find the room with my clothes, and when I walk in, I nearly faint. It’s not justsomeclothes. I could wear something different every day for a year and never have to wear the same thing twice.
“Oh, my goodness!” I say, my hand flying to my mouth.
The room itself is bigger than the one room shack I grew up in. Three walls are lined floor-to-ceiling with racks, shelves, and drawers, all organized by color and type. The wall that isn’t covered has several large mirrors, reflecting the overwhelming abundance. A plush ottoman sits in the center of the room beside a small table.
I take a tentative step closer, my bare feet padding on the stone floor. I’m not sure where to start. It feels like I’m in the shopping malls I read about in old books. There were supposedly a few of those in Concord City, but I certainly never got a chance to see them.
“I think everything is my size,” I mutter, looking over several dresses. “How did he even know my size?”
