Page 9 of To Hunt a Ruby Remedy

I transferred the vegetable omelets to plates right as I heard the trapdoor to the attic open. The kettle whistled over the fire, and I went to grab it.

Without a word, Ranulf carried the food to the table while I filled the mugs.

I expected nothing more than a gruff “thanks” when I sat. After last night, I knew better than to expect more than a single word, though I wouldn’t stop trying to thaw his attitude toward me.

He surprised me, therefore, with his effusive greeting. “Thank you for breakfast.”

I grinned. Maybe by the end of my stay, I’d be able to get five words at a time from him. “You’re welcome. The garden out back is lovely. Do you or Grandmother Molle tend it?”

“Mostly me. Grandmother will putter around every now and then, but she is much better at tending to people than plants.”

“I take it you prefer the plants? Is it because they can’t talk or because you can yank them out of the ground and throw them in the compost when they annoy you?”

Ranulf’s smile was small, a slight quirk of the lips, a twinkle in his eyes, but it was there. He didn’t force his mouth back into a straight line when he realized he had shown a hint of amusement, either. “Both.”

His one-word answer didn’t bother me this time. “Do you do a lot of foraging in the forest, too?”

“Yes, but that is mostly Grandmother. She usually forages and takes care of a few traps. I tend the garden and hunt when the traps aren’t enough.”

“And she bakes the bread.”

“Yes, but hers isn’t as good as yours. And I will deny it if you ever tell her I said that.”

We shared a brief look, a moment of silent laughter. Then Ranulf’s eyes shuttered. He stared at his plate, a line forming between his eyebrows.

I pretended I hadn’t noticed his change in mood. “Who does the rest of the cooking?”

He shrugged.

Great, now we were down to silent answers. I sighed and focused on my meal. Apparently, I had pushed too far. I just didn’t understand how. There hadn’t been a slow increase in annoyance or a sudden reaction to one comment. He shut down after answering me of his own volition.

When we finished, I gathered the dishes without a word and washed up. Ranulf opened his mouth when I took his plate, then shook his head and moved to a chair without saying anything.

I could feel his eyes on me as I cleaned. I snuck a peek at him whenever I could, but I never caught him looking. Instead, he was always focused on something cupped in his palms. The furrow in his brow grew deeper every time I checked.

When the dishes were clean, I wiped down the table. The glass cube I had brought three days ago still sat in the center of the pale wood. I glanced over at Ranulf and bit my tongue. Then I went back to the garden. I needed to get out before I demanded to know why he wasn’t working on my charm. Doubtless, he had several other talismans to make.

I said a quick prayer to Affenala and willed myself to believe that he would have it ready by the end of the week. Since I was in the garden, I decided to pick a few vegetables and start a pot of soup for later. I figured interrupting the healer would annoy him more than making the food without asking him first. He hadn’t seemed to mind my efforts for breakfast.

I tilted my face to the sky and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my skin. I soaked it up like a flower, turning the light into peace, rather than a blossom. Then I surveyed the options in the garden and decided what I would pick. While I worked, I began to hum.

I wished Mama and I could manage more than a window box. Working in the sunshine, the dirt under my fingertips, appealed to me. I didn’t have an apron or basket to load my selections in, so I pulled off my kerchief and made a bundle of vegetables with it.

Still humming, I carried my harvest into the kitchen and pumped water at the sink to clean off the dirt.

“What are you doing?”

A carrot dropped from my hands into the sink with a splash. I spun around to find Ranulf standing at the edge of the table. “I thought I’d make soup. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

He took a step back, looking as surprised as I was at how close he had come. “You don’t have to earn your keep here. You can rest.”

It sounded like a plea.

“I enjoy being helpful, but if you don’t want me to make the soup—”

“That’s not the issue.” He shoved his hand into his pocket, putting away the charm he had been working on. “Make the soup. Fine. I’m going to go out.”

Worry swelled as he made his way to the front door. “What about the charm for my mother? If I’m in the way, I’ll leave.”

---