Page 43 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

“Causing trouble, Bladesinger?” He stretches his leg, so that his foot brushes the back of my lower calf.

I shrug.

Before I can throw back a witty response, Orim emerges from what must be the kitchen with a steaming dish in his hands. He places it on the table in front of us and then returns to the kitchen for another that he sets next to the first.

One dish holds a delectably cheesy concoction of diced potatoes, mushrooms, and leafy greens, and the other, some kind of bird baked in butter and herbs.

Approaching a large glass paneled cabinet behind us, Orim withdraws a stack of dishes and sets them down next to Ronan. Ronan takes three plates, passing them down to Savell and me, while Kheldryn does the same on her side. Savell whirls around to take handfuls of silverware, while Orim adds serving spoons to the dishes. Once the silverware has made its way around the table, Orim gestures to the food.

“Please, help yourselves,” he says, that warmth I’m coming to associate with him present in his tone.

Kheldryn and Savell look to Asheros, who waves his hand as if to say, “you first.”

Ronan doesn’t hesitate and starts spooning heaping amounts of potato and mushrooms and meat onto his plate. Savell is next, and then, passing the platters around the table, we start to serve ourselves.

“Where did this come from?” I ask, taking the serving spoon from Savell. “We’ve only just arrived.”

“We had supplies sent before our arrival,” Kheldryn says, watching me spoon food onto my plate.

“Ah, of course,” I muse. When I’m finished, I pass the serving spoon and hot dishes to Asheros.

He holds up his palm. “Kheldryn and Gryska first.”

I swallow and pass the food to Kheldryn. Gryska is next, and then Asheros serves himself last.

“Mmm,” Ronan moans when he takes a bite. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, my friend.”

“I can attest to that,” Savell adds, joining him.

I dip my fork into the potatoes and mushrooms and add a bit of meat before placing it all in my mouth. Flavors melt onto my tongue instantly, and my eyes briefly close.

“This is… Much better than that broth,” I quip, my laughter bringing a smile to my mouth.

“Listen here,” Orim protests, eyes cheerfully alight. He holds up a hand. “There was nothing to be done about the soup given how little ingredients I had to work with.”

I laugh in between bites. My tone shifts to something more serious, but still conversational. “How did you learn to cook?”

Orim’s cheeks flush a shade of red. “I’ve always been interested in food, and how certain dishes are made.” His mouth parts, and the fondness of his memories shine through. “When I was young, I’d slip into the kitchen and watch the cooks prepare our meals. I found it fascinating. Then, when we dined, I tried to pick apart the flavors and see if I could identify the ingredients.” His eyes dampen a little, with a deflated feeling I know all too well. “My father never really approved of it. Still, I came to love cooking.”

I find his eyes, my expression soft. “I know how you feel.”

“I’m sorry for that,” he replies. The corners of his mouth lift. “All the same, we became our own people, didn’t we?”

Nodding, I offer him a small smile. “We did.”

Across the table, I feel Asheros’s eyes on me. When I turn his way, he quickly averts his gaze, crystalline irises dropping to his plate.

There’s a lull in conversation after that, and my curiosity feels the need to fill it.

“How did you all meet?” Leaning forward, I sweep my gaze around the table. “Are the rest of you from the Silver Court? Or are some of you also from Steel?”

Savell, Ronan, and Kheldryn exchange wary glances, the latter crossing her arms.

This again? Truly?

If I’d made more threats, their unease would make more sense. But I’ve been in their company long enough to think they’d be more comfortable around me. Perhaps the members of Asheros’s inner circle are less trusting than I am.

Gryska, though, doesn’t seem to share her companions’ wariness.

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