Page 11 of Evil Eyed
“Yet he took that bowl and ate.”
Her eyes widened. “Why would he do that?”
“Hospitality. She offered food that she could barely spare, simply because he was a guest. He decided it would be a greater dishonor to refuse her gift than to break his geas, even though it later led to his death. Now consider the duty of hospitality for chieftains and leaders of our people. If the poor woman offered her last food to a guest, how much more were kings expected to share with not just their own people, but also any travelers who passed through our lands?”
“In our time, wealth wasn’t something to hoard,” Doran added. “Being wealthy meant that you could give away more to others. Kings even set up buildings dedicated to providing food and drink to travelers, showing their wealth through hospitality. The better the food and care provided to the traveler, the better the king. One of Eochu Bres’ greatest failures as king was his distinct lack of care in providing hospitality, which was why the Tuatha de Danaan sent him packing.”
She nodded, bringing her gaze back to me. “And so a cauldron from which no one ever left unsatisfied was the greatest hospitality anyone could offer.”
Grinning, I bowed low, keeping my gaze locked to hers. “The Cauldron of Dagda is at your service,mo stór,making you the wealthiest person in the mortal plane.”
She smiled back but shook her head. “I wouldn’t use you like that.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,mo stór. This cauldron enjoys being used a great deal.” I put enough heat in my eyes to scorch her drawers into ash. “And in that regard, I am the deadliest treasure of all.”
7
Iwanted to help—even though I was hopeless in the kitchen—but Doran hefted me up on top of the large island and insisted I watch while Keane worked his magic. The mouthwatering smells wafting from the large oven were certainly magical. But more incredible was the seamless way the five men worked together.
Aidan wasn’t the kind of man who took orders. Doran was their leader. Warwick wasn’t even human. Yet they all deferred to whatever Keane told them to do, whether it was chopping up lettuce or washing dirtied dishes. I’d never seen so many fresh ingredients pulled out for a single meal. The giant fridge was better stocked than the local grocery I’d sometimes shopped at on the way home from the diner.
They took turns bringing me bites to sample. A sprig of a fancy burgundy colored leaf with a vinaigrette that Keane whipped up in a matter of minutes. Fluffy, creamy potatoes, rich with butter and cream, to see if they were salted enough. He had to know they were perfectly seasoned, but he asked me to sample anyway. Fresh green beans that Ivarr cleaned and snapped, lightly toasted in a pan with garlic and slivers of almonds. To die for.
Every bite made my stomach grumble a bit louder with anticipation. Keane winked at me over his shoulder. “That’s the second-best sound in the world. Almost ready,mo stór. Warwick, could you set the table?”
Warwick snapped his fingers. “With pleasure.”
I didn’t see cabinets open or anything floating past my line of vision, but when I turned my head, the large dining room table was loaded down with beautiful dishes. Keane pulled a huge casserole dish out of the oven and carried it toward the table, while Aidan and Ivarr grabbed other serving bowls. Doran helped me hop down off the island and it was all I could do not to rush toward the table, jostling the men out of the way to get to my seat. I was that hungry.
Warwick pulled out a chair for me, bowing with a flourish. I sat at the head of the table with Warwick on my left and Keane on my right. Aidan and Ivarr sat beside them, with Doran at the opposite head. Nobody argued over where they were going to sit. Not with such a feast spread out before us.
Everything smelled so good I had to swallow saliva, or I’d be drooling like a rabid dog. The smells wafting up off the table were indescribable, almost like I was in a drug-induced haze. So good, promising to stroke and tantalize all my senses. Low rumbles around the table told me I wasn’t the only one starving to death, but no one reached for one of the bowls yet, as if waiting for some signal. I didn’t take them as the praying sort…
“Let no one leave this table unsatisfied,” Keane said.
All hell broke loose.
Aidan surged across the table to snag a large cloth-covered basket, but as he was dragging it closer to him, Ivarr managed to slip his hand beneath the cloth and came out with a fresh roll. Doran picked up a glistening pitcher of brown liquid—somehow I didn’t think it was iced tea—and instead of pouring some into his glass, he just tipped the entire pitcher up to his mouth. Even Warwick joined in on the craze, cradling the bowl of green beans in the crook of his arm like it was a newborn baby.
Chuckling, Keane picked up the casserole dish. “May I ladle some shepherd’s pie for you,mo stór?”
“Yes, please.”
He scooped some of the food onto my plate and his, and then passed the heavy dish to Aidan.
“May I share some of these delightful green beans with you,mo stór?” Warwick asked.
“Are you sure? It looks like they’re your favorite.”
He laughed sheepishly as he spooned some green beans onto my plate. “Well, I do indeed find all things green highly appealing, and I could surely eat the entire bowl myself, but I’ll share with you.”
“He jests,” Keane said. “Nothing that I’ve prepared tonight will run out until my guests are well and truly satisfied. After all, I’m the Dagda’s Cauldron.”
I stabbed some of the green beans on my fork. “Who—or what—is that?”
“The Dagda is one of the original High Court Tuatha de Danaan, known as a father-god to the people of Ireland.” He paused, lifting a brow expectantly at me, waiting for me to take a bite.
I liked green beans well enough, and I’d tasted the components of his dish earlier. They were great. But something about the final dish transcended the humble everyday vegetable to something heavenly. The freshness exploded on my tongue, sweetened and deepened by roasting. I could almost taste the individual crystals of salt as they danced along the legume’s length. Garlic, mellowed by the oven and balanced perfectly with the rich nuttiness of toasted almonds.
