With a parting wave, Hunter disappeared through the door. Gretchen stood looking after him, breathless and chest heaving. She grinned upon meeting Clarysa’s inquisitive gaze, but would say no more. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she turned back to her cooking. She was humming.
After Clarysa finished making the appetizers, she peeked into the great hall. As the men arrived, they piled their cloaks in one corner. They stood around shaking wet hair and warming themselves by the grate’s blazing fire. Conversation and laughter filled the air. To look at them, one would never think they had returned from a dangerous mission. Chairs scraped against stone as they sat at the tables, eagerly awaiting the most anticipated guest–the main course. Gretchen and Ghyslain appeared by her side, laden with trays of food.
“You wait here,” Gretchen instructed her. “Let the food and wine calm them down first.”
Clarysa reluctantly returned to the kitchen. She couldn’t wait to hear about the heroics Stellan had performed against the Pestilence horde.
After the main course had been delivered, Gretchen handed Clarysa a wide platter full of rolls to pass around. She carried it carefully into the hall. The air felt toasty warm and smelled strongly of spiced meat.
She slowly made her way down the long table, offering rolls. Most of the rough-looking men were engrossed in their meals, but a few noticed her. Some stared with frank curiosity. Others nodded politely.
Clarysa’s heart skipped a beat as she spotted Stellan at the far end. A few days’ growth of beard and soiled clothing couldn’t obscure his handsomeness. It seemed like they’d been apart for months instead of a few weeks. She had daydreamed about their reunion hundreds of times during his absence.
Holding her breath, Clarysa stepped forward and held out the platter. But the dream didn’t come true. He didn’t even turn his head while grabbing a roll. Clarysa was crestfallen. Am I that invisible to him? For someone who never lacked for words, she suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say.
She’d seen him display the same cold, impersonal manner at the hunt. He isn’t interested, so why do you persist? Fool. Lower lip trembling, Clarysa quietly moved on to the next diner.
“Wait!”
She instantly spun back around at the sound of Stellan’s commanding voice. “Yes?”
“I’ll have another,” he said as he reached for the platter–this time catching sight of its server.
Clarysa smiled. His look of surprise indicated he hadn’t even recognized her. With a borrowed bandanna covering her hair and the new dress, she must have looked like a hired servant. She pushed the tray before him and awaited his response.
Stellan’s furrowed brow pronounced itself as his face darkened. Leaping to his feet, he tore the platter from her grasp and slammed it down upon the table. “Gretchen!” He searched the hall. Some of the men glanced up at his shout, but most kept their heads bent down over their plates. “Gretchen! Woman, I command you to attend me at once!”
Gretchen rushed over, necklaces clinking. “What is it? The soup cold? What’s wrong?”
“This!” he said through clenched teeth, gesturing sharply to Clarysa. “Dishing up to the men like a common wench. You know who she is. What’s wrong with you?”
Gretchen wrung her hands. She opened her mouth to reply when Clarysa laid a hand on Stellan’s arm. “No, wait! It’s not her fault. I wanted to help. I asked her to let me! Stellan, it’s all right. I wanted to do my part. Really, it’s all right!”
He turned and glared, his eyes burning holes into hers.
Undaunted, Clarysa picked up the scattered rolls. She held out the platter, practically shoving it under his nose. “I made them myself. Try one–please!”
After cutting one more heated glance at Gretchen, Stellan scooped up a roll and bit into it. His eyes were cast downward as he chewed, and Clarysa found herself admiring his face. If she hadn’t been studying him so intently, she might have missed the slight relaxation of his shoulders. “Well, what do you think?”
After swallowing, he tore off a fresh piece. “Needs more salt,” he murmured. “Taste for yourself.” He gently pushed the morsel against her lips and into her mouth.
He grazed her tongue with his fingertip, and the pressure he exerted told her it was no accident. Clarysa almost forgot to chew. Well, she wanted to start sucking on his finger, but given the public arena that would have been very unseemly. Instead, she let her tongue drag upon the long, firm digit as he withdrew.
His widening eyes and parting lips gave her hope. His heart was not as cold as he would have her believe. His blood certainly ran hot, judging from the heat of his finger.
The hall became abruptly quiet. By this time, Clarysa was so happy she didn’t care what kind of spectacle she created. After what seemed like an eternally blissful moment, Stellan resumed his seat. She moved to pick up the platter, but the sorcerer stayed her with a tenacious hand on her arm.
“Cervantes,” he said to the man on his left, “give her your seat.”
The burly man in question gave a quick, knowing smile to his neighbors and chuckled.
“Cervantes,” Stellan continued, his voice deepening, “perhaps I wasn’t clear.”
“Oh aye…aye,” said Cervantes, who immediately stood to find another spot. “You was most certainly clear, all right!”
“Oy, Cervy!” shouted Hunter from down the table. “While yer up, could you pass me some of her buns? I hear they’re delicious!”
A round of laughter erupted. Clarysa blushed. Cervantes picked up two rolls from the platter and threw them none too gently toward Hunter. Hunter caught one, but the other hit him on the forehead and bounced off. The men laughed harder still. Eventually, their tales from the recent battle resumed.
Clarysa studied Stellan’s reaction. He was ignoring them. He pointed to the chair next to him. She sat. Wordlessly, he fixed her a plate before resuming his own meal.
Clarysa’s stomach was all aflutter. She could only pick at the food. So she used
