Page 33 of Faeling
When he returned from his bath, steaming and covered only in his linen breeches, Vallek reentered the den to find two platters of food laid out on the dining table. One already had its white porcelain lid taken off, about half the portion of seasoned quail, sauteed squash, and roasted apricots eaten.
Vallek sat in his usual chair, drawing his own plate to him. Lifting the lid revealed a full portion—except all but one of the apricots had been eaten.
My little hellion,he thought fondly.
Tucking into his meal, he remained acutely aware of how she watched him from the corner of her eye. Ensconced again at the window, she made an effort to appear as though she ignored him, but they both knew differently.
“Join me,” he said as he cut into his quail.
“I’ve already eaten.”
“Hardly. There’s still a feast here.”
“I require less than you do.”
Well, that might be true. She was a slight thing, her head barely coming to the center of his chest. Honestly, if he let himself think too much on how small she was compared to him, he might start to break out in a nervous sweat.
Such a little thing…he would have to take great care with her.
Which started with ensuring she’d eaten plenty.
“You could still sit with me,” he cajoled. “Keep me company.”
“I could,” she replied.But won’t.
Vallek bit back his sigh with a mouthful of squash. Chewing thoughtfully, he regarded his faeling mate, not bothering to hide his stare. Muscles loose and relaxed from the bath, he found theeventful day weighed on him. Their sparring could wait until morning. For now, he knew it was too much to try to persuade her into more carnal pursuits, but he hoped they might at least talk civilly.
“Where are you from?” he asked, keeping his tone light.There, sprite, a question, not a demand.
“North of here.”
Well that was obvious. She’d found their camp years ago in the northern Griegens.
“How old are you?”
“Fifty-five.”
It took effort not to choke on his mouthful of quail. He stared at her in surprise, although her poorly hidden smugness at his shock wasn’t such a surprise.
Vallek wasn’t a good judge of human ages, but he’d have guessed her to be half that, perhaps even less. Certainly not older than his thirty-eight years. Of course, the fae were long-lived. Few knew just how much so.
Resuming his meal, he asked, “Where did you grow up?”
“By the sea.”
Hmm, so not inland Eirea or Pyrros. He knew the northwestern coasts were nominally claimed by the human kingdom of Eirea, although it was far less populated than the fertile, rolling hills and forests of the hinterland. A fishing village, perhaps?
“And who was your father?”
“A fae.”
“Your mother?”
“A human.”
“I see. So our children will be quarter-fae and quarter-human.”
A strangled sort of choking sound caught in her throat, and Vallek looked up from his plate to see her bulging eyes.
