Page 38 of Cookbooks and Demons

“Yes, this city. At least the pieces I don’t have to trade away. It isn’t perfect, but I can limp along,” he said, lifting his head up to face the waiter as if he were an unwelcomeintruder.

“L’entre,” Éliott declared, as he presented his tray holding two small dishes bearing a small array of finger foods. Another waiter smoothly came up behind him with his own tray to swipe away the empty l’aperitifglasses.

“On this plate, we have smoked salmon canapes, an olive tapenade on a thin piece of rye bread, and a gougères, or tiny cheese puff,” Éliott said as he laid the small plate before Helena, then indicated each item with a point of his finger. Then he moved to lay the second plate before Rafferty. “Usually we only serve one appetizer per guest, but because this is for a very special occasion, the chef wished for you to try a wider selection of what we can offer.”

“Thank you. It looks delicious,” Helena reassured, and after their water glasses were topped off, the wait staff moved on. She stared at the plate, wanting to taste it, but it felt wrong to just dive right back into the fine dining experience after the things Rafferty justtold her.

“I am sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I am ruining thisfor you.”

“But you remember cooking,” Helena said, plucking up the olive tapenade to take a small, independent bite.

“Yes, well, I hate cooking,” he said, looking down at the plate before him like he was trying to puzzle them out. “It’s better to serve the gougères with a soup to dip it in.”

“You hate cooking?” she asked, genuinely surprised. “But you seem so passionateabout it.”

“What do you think I did to get dragged to that place?” he said in a low voice. “My greatest wish, to cook for the King, became my condemnation, and ashes is all I’m allowed to taste.” He held up the olive tapenade and took a bite, chewing it, but clearly not enjoying it. She tried to do the same, taking up the olive tapenade, but when she reached for his hand, he pulled it out of her way. Then he popped the rest of the l’entre into his mouth and chewed it away.

“It’s what I deserve. It’s fine,”he said.

She set the food down. “If it’s what you deserve and you are nothing but dark things, then why are you so kind to me?”

“Again, what makes you think this isn’t all a part of my long con?” he said in his gruff way, but when Helena looked into his starburst eyes, they crinkled just the littlest bit.

“Well, if you are trying to trick me, I don’t care. I would rather be a person who gets tricked when trying to do something kind than live my life being cold and alone,” she said with an airy flippancy. This time she poignantly held her hand out to him to take. “Now, you’re going to have to taste the other half of this one because I need your help judging this food, and whether you like it or not, you are the expert, so come on.” She waggled her fingers at him.

He reluctantly grinned and gave over his hand before obediently tasted the second half of her olivetapenade.

“Much better when using my taste buds, right?”

“Yes, much, though I’m sorry I am marring your experience,” he agreed. Then he looked down at the plate before him, his face growing thoughtful as he rolled the food he could now taste in his mouth. “I could make this better,”he said.

“Oh, okay,” Helena said, not sure what to do with that. Or what he meant by his “marring” her experience. “But you can’t do it for the Winter Rose Ball, so do you think this willgo over?”

He licked his teeth, then took a sipof water.

“Let’s try the rest of them. Let me see how these three work asa group.”

Helena thought the warm creamy cheese inside the gougères was delightful while the smoked salmon canapes were interesting. Soon after that, the fish course came followed by small lime sorbet to cleanse their palates before the le plat principal or main course.

“I just don’t know what to do about Yosef because while he technically doesn’t outrank me, he sort of doesn’t have a rank, you know? Like a ronin or something. Do you know what aronin is?”

“A Japanese samurai that serves no master,” Rafferty said.

“Okay, then maybe ronin is the wrong word because he definitely has a master. The way he takes care of Scarlet, you’d think she really was his mother,” she said, scraping the last bit of sorbet ontoher spoon.

“Hmm,” he said, having finished with his and releasing her hand so she could enjoy it. Eating with the spoons had been a bit of a trick to keep in contact so they could taste.

“What’s that ‘hmm’ about? Do you have something to share with the class?” she pressed.

“You like him?” her demon asked.

“No, I’ve been just saying how much I don’tlike him.”

“But you desire him?”

“Don’t you have to like someone to desire them?”

“Not in my experience.” He shrugged. “What I can remember of it.”

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