Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Besides, though there hadn’t been any reports of Alexander or his people dogging our heels today and they hadn’t picked up any markings or scents when we stopped, I worried they would still be out there, waiting. I didn’t want to make a run for it until the coast was clear. Hopefully, it would be soon.
“I have to go look after my horse, love,” Hadriel said, stopping near the cooking station. “Why don’t you take over for Burt so that the food is edible.” He patted me. “We’d all appreciate it.”
Burt—whose name was actually Sylvester—glowered at Hadriel as he walked away. He didn’t shrug me off, though, saying that he planned to make chili and asking if I had any input. I did, of course, quickly taking over and using poor Sylvester as more of a sous chef than cooking partner. By the time the pack had everything squared away and were ready to eat, the chili was nearly ready and Weston was standing close, watching me work.
“Almost,” I said, stirring the pot and taking a taste. I passed the spoon onto Sylvester. “Here, see what you think?”
He did as he was told, nodding adamantly. “Best damn chili I have ever tasted. Jessab is going to be mighty threatened by you.”
“Who?”
“The royal cook. He’ll be worried you’ll steal his position.”
“I’ll be too busy getting my head cut off,” I groused with a smile, and Hadriel barked out his laugher as he sat patiently to the side. To Weston I said, “Go ahead and eat. Ten minutes won’t make or break it.”
He nodded, stepping up and spooning some into his bowl, filling it only halfway.
“You can take your fill. There is plenty to go around,” I told him, my heart swelling that he would repeatedly take less to ensure his people had enough. I used to do that in the village when the food was meager.
He did as instructed before Sylvester shooed me up to the pot. “Your turn. Let’s go, they’re all hungry.”
“I’m pretty sure no one thinks it’s poisoned this time.” I tried to step away. “I’m a prisoner. I’m fine to go last.”
“You’re the cook. You go first.” Sylvester gave me a shove and everyone stood around us, waiting for food while nodding their agreement.
Unlike in the village, it was clear there was no use arguing. Face flushed and fighting a pleased little smile that they’d insist, I filled my bowl and turned for Hadriel, only then surprised to find that Weston wasn’t there. Instead, he was walking away, finding a little spot by himself and sitting down.
“Was it something you said?” I asked as Hadriel stood to get in line.
He followed my gaze. “Yesterday was a strange occurrence, him joining us. Usually, he sits on the periphery to eat and then heads off early. Unlike some alphas that lord over everyone all the time, making them nervous, he heads out and lets the pack relax.”
“But . . . he’s not very intimidating. Why can’t they relax when he’s here?”
Hadriel gave me a funny look. “A great many people find him plenty intimidating. Besides, he’s in charge. It’s hard to really let your hair down when the boss is looking over your shoulder. It’s fine, he’s used to it. Sit there, I’ll be right back.”
Weston looked off to the right, chewing, a solitary figure set back from the pack he ruled. A pang of sadness hit my heart. Maybe it was because I’d distanced myself throughout my life, always removed from those around me, or because I constantly had to eat dinner alone, but I sympathized with him. He just seemed so lonely. So isolated, with no one to talk to. It was his choice, but he was doing it to give his pack some peace of mind. That was commendable. I was angry as hell with him, but the humanity in me recognized that he shouldn’t be rewarded for his sacrifice with a companionless meal.
His head snapped toward me as I moved in his direction. He watched me approach, chewing.
“Hey.” I sat down beside him. “Thought you might like the company of a person you don’t make nervous.”
He didn’t respond but his gaze didn’t leave me. He took another mouthful as I took my first, focusing on the flavors for a moment before breathing out and getting a bit more comfortable.
“Dinner was always wind-down time,” I said to fill the seemingly expectant silence. “I looked forward to it all day—I thought about what I would cook, what drink I would have with it, if I’d have a fire or sit outside. I’d play with the flavors, try new things, and then sit in peace as I finally ate and wound down.”
“This dish tastes like heaven,” he finally said, going for another bite.
Emberflies started blinking into existence, hovering in the trees as the light faded. They’d been around last night, too, though I hadn’t paid them much notice. It had been the rest of the pack that marveled at their presence, apparently never having seen them in the area before. It was probably because the emberflies correctly assumed they were dangerous. I wasn’t sure why they would hang around now, but I enjoyed their glow.