Page 8 of Realm of Wind and Vines
Tapping my fingers against my thigh, I make a mental note to bring that up with the others later.
Lavendera is likely sitting on a mountain of information thateven Draven doesn’t know. Getting her on our side might just be the secret weapon we need in order to take on the Icehearts.
CHAPTER FOUR
Apparently, dryads don’t eat. It shouldn’t have surprised me, given that they’re half plant. Or fully plant? To be fair, I’m not quite sure of the exact genetic composition of a dryad’s body. The end result remains the same, though. They don’t eat food.
They did, however, figure out thatweneed to eat. Which is why the table in front of us is filled with eclectic pieces of vaguely edible… things. Or at least, I hope they’re edible.
I glance down at the chopped-up pieces of pale yellow matter on the thin board before me. It kind of looks like potatoes, so I hope I’m right. Since the dryads don’t eat, they didn’t have any plates, so they’ve served the food on a variety of flat objects whose normal use remain a mystery to me.
A wide smile spreads across Lyra’s face when the dryad who is helping to feed us sets down a cob of corn in front of her. To her left, Alistair winces when he receives a carrot instead. I note with surprise that his carrot looks to have been grilled over a fire. As opposed to the dubious-looking pile of diced potatoes in front of me, which I have a sneaking suspicion might be raw.
But that is not the most awkward part of this whole situation. No, the worst part is that the entire room is filled with dryadswho are sitting silently on sculpted wooden chairs and watching us with rapt interest. As if eating dinner is a spectator sport.
I sweep an uncertain glance over them all. Galen and Alistair do the same. Lyra is too excited about receiving the most obviously edible food item to notice the dryads’ fascinated stares, and I already know that Isera could easily murder someone in front of an audience without even paying them any mind, so eating dinner like this should be a piece of cake. Apparently, both Orion and Draven have also perfected the not-so-subtle art of being so powerful and important that they can do whatever they want without worrying about what people will think, so they’re ignoring our intrigued spectators like proper royalty.
Galen, Alistair, and I exchange a glance. However, before we can say anything, Lyra abruptly picks up Alistair’s makeshift plate and switches it with hers.
He starts in surprise and turns to look at her. And so do the rest of us.
“Why are you taking Alistair’s carrot?” Galen asks with a confused frown.
“I’m not taking it,” Lyra answers, a smile still on her face. “I’m swapping it with my corn. Big difference.”
Galen lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, yes, you’re swapping it. The question still remains the same.”
“Alistair doesn’t like carrots.”
The fire wielder in question draws back slightly and blinks at her in surprise. “How did you know that?”
“We lived together for weeks in the Unseelie Court, remember?” she replies with a quick shake of her head, as if that should’ve been obvious.
“Well, yeah, but no one else picked up on that. I didn’t memorize anyone else’s eating habits either.”
“Huh.” She looks thoughtful for a second, and then just lifts her shoulders in a casual shrug. “Well, when I’m interested in someone, I tend to notice things.”
Red flushes Alistair’s cheeks in a heartbeat.
Across the table, Draven lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head at Lyra. “Go easy on him, will you? Or he might burst into flames and take us all out with him.”
Alistair splutters something that sounds like the beginning of a curse at him, but Lyra just looks up from her dubiously grilled carrot and asks, “What?”
Her tone, and the expression on her face, is filled with innocence, but there is a mischievous gleam in her orange eyes that she can’t quite hide. Draven just shakes his head again while suppressing a smile.
I stare at him from across the table, drinking in the sight of that faint smile. He has spent far too little time smiling in his life. He deserves a life full of joy. A life full of adventure and freedom. Full of love. And by his god and mine, I will make sure he gets it. I will make sure he gets everything. Thatweget fucking everything.
With that innocent grin on her mouth and the devilish glint in her eyes, Lyra casually picks up the carrot and takes a firm bite. Alistair, his cheeks still red, quickly grabs the cob of corn with both hands and starts eating.
The sudden start to the feast seems to snap all the dryads out of their silent trance, because a ripple goes through the room. Conversations start up at their tables for the first time as they focus on something other than our ongoing food consumption, but they still sneak glances at us every few seconds. As if to catalogue how we eat the food.
Isera slides a cool gaze over the ones who study us, making them quickly snap their attention back to their own companions.
“It’s like ice.”
We all turn towards Orion, but the Unseelie King has his gaze locked on Isera.
“Your face,” he continues. “It really is like ice.”
