Chapter 49: A Hungry Bird

The following morning, they returned to the FireStar’s usual spot in LandingTown. Unloaded the rest of the goods for WaterRose, and headed up the Meadow Mountain with it.

Sebastian found himself rushing back to WaterRose, hoping to make dinner despite the increasingly late hour. If I hurry, I may make dinner with her. Another chance to see her pretty face.

Thusly it was a great relief when he had the men unload the goods in the Warwood, far from any trail that’d lead them to WaterRose.

Once he was certain they were much further down the Mountain he gave several whooping whistles which summoned Mandrake, Elengard, and Dimitrius to help get all the goods up to the castle. Entering WaterRose he caught the first lulling whiff of dinner and turned to Elengard.

“It smell fantastic.” He grinned approvingly as they set down crates in the kitchens.

Elengard shook her head.

“What?” He asked.

“I didn’t make it.”

His brow furrowed.

“Your bird.” She said in her minimalistic way.

“Elsabet cooked?”

“She has been.”

“When’d she learn to do that?”

“I’ve been teaching her.”

“You’re on speaking terms?” He reared back shocked.

“On occasion. When she is pleasant. Or relatively so…”

“Whyever is she doing that?”

“Because, My Lord.” Elengard gave her a pointed look. “She seems to be constantly hungry.”

Meaning?

He found himself watching Elsabet warily from across the table. Grimacing at the sounds she was making.

He sat across the width of the table from her, and twice already had been splashed with mashed potatoes launched off her trencher as she forced the food into her mouth in handfuls. She rummaged through the platter of chicken. Plucking at the browned skin of the legs until finding the one the most pink which she tilted her head up to devour nearly whole.

He cringed again. “Hungry Sweetheart?”

She paused, blue eyes lifting to look at him.

So beautiful it’s hard to imagine that only moments ago she was consuming food at the same rate as a starved Sarabi.

She nodded forlornly. Letting the trencher clatter back to the table and sitting upright, she cleared her throat and delicately wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin.

Remembering herself, apparently.

“I am.” Her shoulders drooped. “I have been as of late. Everything looks delicious. And everything seems to taste better. But I just can’t seem to fill this hole in my belly.”

“Huh.” He grunted. “Any idea why?” He asked cagily. Putting his elbows on the table and steeping his fingers before him as he awaited her answer.

“No.” She turned her head sideways to give him a long look. “Why?”

He lifted his shoulder in an exaggerated shrug. Thumping a wooden cup on the table thoughtfully. “Have you anything to tell me?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

His eyes widened hopefully and his hands lowered to grip the edge of the table as he forced his face to remain composed.

“This,” She lifted the trencher. “Is exceptional! Don’t you think? Elengard has quite outdone herself.”

Indirectly fishing for compliments. Clever.

“I’m advised Elengard didn’t cook this.”

Elsabet’s head tucked into her shoulders as she chugged thirstily from a mug. “This water is so good. Doesn’t it seem much fresher?”

“No…” He tilted his head at her.

It’s water. It has no flavor.

That’s usually how you know it’s not stagnant.

“Strange…It just…tastes. So much better…”

Fine, I’ll let you change the subject if you so desire.