Page 65 of The Demon's Discovery
“Of course. Are you hungry? I’m afraid if you start now, you’ll be in the middle of something when you should be stopping to eat.” I’d learned when Greta was motivated, it was best to go with it. Her energy stores were too fickle to delay.
She peered up at me, eyes bright. “I think I might always be hungry.” Her cheeks colored, as though the admission were embarrassing.
Or perhaps not completely about food. I could absolutely relate. The way I felt when she looked at me like that wasborderline criminal. It made me incapable of refusing her anything.
“I’ll take care of that, then. Can’t have you working on an empty stomach.” I winked at her, and the color in her cheeks deepened. It was a ridiculous temptation. “Be careful.”
“I’m always careful,” she muttered back, already lost in the recipe again as she slid on a pair of spectacles. She was adorable.
I headed for the dining room, taking my time approaching the kitchen as the sounds of Grace and Magnus’s mixed laughter rang out from behind the door. Grace popped out with plates in her hand, the mountainous man grinning as he stepped out right behind her.
“Good evening, Vassago,” Grace greeted me with a wide smile.
“Grace.” It was impossible not to smile back at her.
Magnus smirked, parking himself at the table with three of the plates he’d carried. “Demon.”
“Statue.”
“Will Greta be joining us?” Grace asked.
“She’s actually in the middle of working on something. May I get a plate to take to her?”
“Of course. Come on, I’ll get you set up.”
“It can wait a few minutes. Please, eat while your food is hot.”
She waved me off. “It’ll keep.”
Magnus shook his head, warning me off from trying to argue further. He looked to be pacing himself with his first plate, trying to make it last so he could have more time at the table with her, if I were to hazard a guess.
I followed her into the kitchen, and Grace efficiently set a plate in each of my hands. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be along in a bit with some nibbles and fresh tea.”
“You’re too good to us, Grace.”
She smiled. “Go on. Get it to her before she’s got no hands to eat with. I know well enough how that goes.”
Greta had a flask in one hand when I returned but struggled with the striker for the burner she held it over, spectacles abandoned on the tabletop.
“I’ll help light the flame, but only if you come eat first,” I bargained.
“This little contraption hates me. I’m convinced of it.” She dropped the tools with a huff, sitting heavily on the chaise.
“I’m not sure such an object like that torch striker has emotions, Dragonfly.”
She settled the plate on her lap, shuffling the roast chicken and vegetables Grace had provided around, mouth a tense straight line. “Well, something’s the matter with it. Makes no sense how easily you get it to work. I could do it exactly the same as you and never get a flame from it.” She stabbed her food in frustration, chewing the bite with much more enthusiasm than necessary.
We ate in silence, her rushing through the meal and me too unsure what to say that I ended up saying nothing at all. When she was done, I put my plate aside and lit the little wick under the glass as promised.
“Thank you,” she said softly, still glaring at the striker.
“Of course.” I threaded my hands through her hair, efficiently putting it up into a braid that sat close to her scalp. She smiled up at me as I tied a ribbon at the bottom to hold it in place. “What’s the recipe for?” I asked, returning to my seat so I could finish my own food.
She methodically worked through the items on her table. “It’s purifying. Or cleansing? I’m not sure which word is the most accurate. It just seemed like the one I should try. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You don’t need to, Dragonfly. I trust your instincts. You should too.”
