Page 491 of Kingdoms of Night

Someone was feeling cheeky. “Scare me out of my skin by popping out of nowhere.”

“I’m afraid if I announced myself with any other noise, you’d still be quite spooked, as my steps make no sound.” He gestured and the seat slid out for me. “Regardless, the cut and color of your gown looks made for you.”

Flustered, I briefly lost control of my tongue until I sat, trying to ignore the snake-like stare of his pet. “Can you see it in this ambience?”

Across from me, he somehow maintained the same detail that he did in the library. “I see things differently than most, especially since I became difficult to perceive.”

The opportunity had presented itself and I had to probe. “What did you mean when you said that I glow? That’s not physically possible, unless you were being poetic.”

“I wasn’t, but I could be,” he said suggestively. “I meant it literally. Every living thing emits signs of the energy that powers it, some great sorcerers considered it the soul shining through its vessel.”

“So, we’re all like coals to you?”

“Some are, others are dimmer, few are like torches.”

“Which am I? You said I was tame but steady. So, like a lantern?”

“If one could burn with an intensity to never fade, no matter the distance,” he said. “You are akin to a steady star, no twinkle faltering its shine.”

A pleased flush loosened my tension, forgoing manners to set my elbows on the table as I leaned in.

The food uncovered itself, plates hovering along with their serving utensils. Slight gestures from him had them serve me, releasing familiar scents that had my stomach growling. Bowls of pomegranate soup, burghul and stocked rice, small plates packed with mezze along with half-moon sambousek, lamb kebabs with shallots and tomatoes, roasted flatbread with za’atar, olive oil and feta cheese.

This was the kind of food we hadn’t seen since my father had fallen out of favor. I couldn’t wait to taste it all.

I began with the soup, relishing in the texture of ground pomegranate, minced meat and split peas. “I didn’t know you had all this Beinahreini cuisine here.”

Reminiscence layered his reply. “We don’t, but I admit I miss it.”

“Why aren’t you eating then?”

He tapped the mask. “I’d need to take this off.”

“I’ve asked you to before.”

“I’d hate to ruin your appetite. Besides, I’ve already eaten.”

I halted my next spoonful, hungrily scouring the surrounding plates. “Then what’s all this for then?”

He lowered his head, eyeholes of his mask aimed at me. “You.”

The flush spread further, sparking a tremor in my legs. “Fattening me up so you can have more to feast on?”

“I’d gladly feast on you as you are.”

The spoon hit the bowl with a slight splash.

I could hear the cringe in his apologetic tone. “Too forward?”

“Just unexpected, considering I have no proof that your face isn’t just a giant mouth.” I resumed my dining, reaching for the flatbread. “Maybe you could show me after I finish?”

“As you wish.”

Guilt over being the only one eating was forgotten as I tasted more of the spiced, seasoned food, and bit into smaller dishes of dolma, meatballs and fried fish.

Dessert seamlessly replaced dinner as we rotated through a few topics. The awkwardness had left the air between us and I would have questioned the ease of our flowing conversation, had I not enjoyed it so much. I couldn’t recall ever speaking to anyone with such openness, where I could question without fear of consequence and receive enthusiastic response.

Dare I say it, I loved his company.

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