Page 84 of House of the Iron Reaper

“I thought tonight we could cook together,” she says, looking pleased with herself.

“Did Ronan suggest this?”

Novalie’s head whips towards me.

“How did you know?”

I laugh, face warming.

“In truth, I had asked him for some romantic ideas as well,” I admit. “I… well, you know I have little experience with… all of this. I thought Ronan might have some advice.”

“So he told you there is little more romantic than food, too?” Novalie shakes her head but cannot hide her smile. “I would have ignored him except I do know you love food, so…”

She sits back to show the skewers of meat sitting next to her, rows and rows of them, enough to feed five dragons.

“Is my appetite truly that great?” I say, staring at them.

Novalie thinks for a moment before saying a plain, “Yes.”

We break into an easy laugh and start placing the skewers over the fire. Novalie explains how she seasoned the meat, again with Ronan’s help, as I try to listen and not get distracted by the increasingly delicious smell.

She places another skewer on the grill, slightly smaller and with darker meat interspersed with a red vegetable. As soon as it begins to sizzle, I smell it, and the air leaves my lungs.

“That…” I whisper, eyes focused on it. “That is redfish.”

Redfish, despite the name, is not a fish at all but a large snake that roams the desert.

“Oh, wonderful! So you are familiar with it.” Novalie grins, turning the skewer.

“My father used to make this,” I say.

Redfish is hard to find, often burying itself in the sand during the day, but it was a favourite of my father’s. He would hunt them specifically for our House.

Inhaling the smell, I can almost hear his boisterous laugh as I, in my young hubris, would bite into the meat too fast and yelp at the heat.

“How did you know?” I ask, looking at Novalie.

“I did some research on what Iron dragons traditionally eat. It was not easy to find but Lysandra was strangely forthcoming,” she says with a pleased smile. “I was hoping I got it right. Here…”

Novalie delicately takes the skewer from the fire and hands it to me. I go to eat it quickly before remembering my father, laughing at me. Smiling, I blow on it to cool it down first and carefully take a bite.

I am a child, huddled amongst my family on the long benches of our food hall. There is a rabble of noise around me and the smell of molten metal mixed with freshly cooked meat. My plate is full, two skewers, a pile of grain mixed with charred sandpeppers and mushrooms. My home is full, dragons bustling in from the day shift and rising from their sleep for the night shift. My heart is full, my father sliding extra portions onto my plate from his own dinner before plating a kiss on my forehead.

Novalie wipes away the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I got it right?” she asks softly.

“You got it right,” I whisper back. “Thank you.”

I think of my conversation with Nerissa. The reminder that our souls do not leave, they only change. Deimos would have suggested this idea, if asked. And when I take a bite of the skewer, for the first time since my father died, I remember he is still here.

Elder Lysandra’s eyes smoulder like coals in the dark when I arrive home. I tap my chin in greeting and try to sidle by to my chambers.

“Deyanara.” Her voice carries across the room and I stop in my tracks.

Lysandra rises from her seat, still half-cloaked in darkness. I fight the urge to shrink back.

“Your responsibilities do not disappear, even when ignored,” she says evenly. “There is a delivery for you, at first light.”