Page 93 of Ren: Warlord Brides
Mittens meowed in agreement. He placed a few treats in her dish, and she promptly ignored them both in favor of scarfing down her kibble.
“Thalia made the medic examine Mittens,” she said. “No lasting harm from the sedatives, but, and I quote, he deals exclusively with bipedal patients. Which I think is rather limited, because there are all sorts in the universe, not just people on two legs. What’s he going to do when an octopus person from Octagon 24 comes in because they have a rash on their tentacles?”
“There is no such place.”
“Could be. It’s a big universe. How boring would it be if everyone had the same basic blueprint?”
Ren sat at the table. “This is good,” he said, shoving a fish taco into his mouth and swallowing it whole. “But not as good as yours,” he added.
Emry shook her head, laughing lightly. “It is good. I expected it to be… I dunno, awful. Institution food usually is.”
“The warlord has cooks to prepare foods that please his Terran mate, I have been told.”
“Lucky us.” She took a bite of her fish taco. Baked, the fish had a nice texture. She did not recognize the chopped vegetables, something shredded and red like cabbage, but with a bite like an onion. Interesting. “I spoke with the warlord’s wife, while we were in Medical. She seems nice.”
“I have only met the warlord’s mate twice,” he said.
“She was very excited about me and Gemma having a bakery on Earth. In fact,” Emry said, dipping her taco into a small dish of salsa verde, “she made us an offer. The space, supplies, and funding to open our bakery on the ship.”
She took a bite. Hmm. Sweet with a slow burn. Not salsa verde. Still good, though. Emry dipped her taco in again.
“That is exciting. I regret that I did not sample your bakery’s wares,” Ren said.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I need to talk about it with Gemma, but she’s got stuff on her plate now and I’d like a chance to settle.”
“Do or do not. I only care for your happiness.”
The near-Star Wars quote tickled her. “I mean, not having to worry about overhead and expenses is a pretty great deal. Those were the worst parts of running a business for me. But I also got pretty bored making the same recipes day after day. I’d like to learn new stuff. Experiment.” An idea struck her. Excitement rushed through her. “In fact, I’d like to convince the guy running the dining hall into taking me on as an apprentice. I need hands-on experience with Sangrin cuisine. Books and videos can only take me so far.”
“I approve of this plan.”
“I’d also like to learn about Rolusdreus food. Especially those dumplings you told me about,” she added. “I tried to find some ingredients when Thalia and I were shopping before, well, before everything went sideways, but there’s nothing. No exports.”
It had stumped her at first, but when she considered that everything exported from Rolusdreus would require decontamination, the answer was obvious. Cost, pure and simple. Why spend a fortune decontaminating a crate of goods when the same thing could be acquired elsewhere for a fraction of the price? Plus, radiation. Even if the label promised the goods were decontaminated, unscrupulous sorts always cut corners. Too many people played fast and loose with safety regulations.
“No, Rolusdreus does not export foodstuffs,” he said. “I travel there once a year to restock on jars of nutritional yeast.”
Emry understood craving the taste of home. “Thankfully, Earth exports coffee and chocolate. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”
“Send your mate to fill the cargo hold with crates and crates,” he said, shrugging his shoulders like that was no big thing.
As they ate, Ren filled her in on the details of Pashaal’s arrest. Havik and Zalis apprehended her mere moments before her ship had clearance to depart. Emry didn’t think Pashaal was suited to a life on the run, but apparently, she was going to try.
As the conversation continued, he told her what he could about the warehouse raid and the other captive women. Emry absently pushed the salsa containers across the table as she listened. The normalcy of it, like they had dinner every night and shared their days, settled about her like a comfy sweater. She could see this play out day after day, him coming home and spoiling the cat. Maybe one day spoiling their kids. She’d stuff him full of her latest experiment and keep feeding him until he knew she loved him completely.
It was so damn cozy, and she had never wanted a thing like this before. Is this what it would have been like if he’d defied his warlord four years ago? If he had chosen her?
No, probably not. They were different people back then.
“I am boring you,” he said. At some point, Mittens climbed into his lap and curled up for a nap. He stroked her head while she purred.
“No, I’m listening,” she protested. “So, I’ve been thinking.”
He leaned back in the chair, tail thumping against the chair legs. “Yes.”
“While I was in the holding cell, there wasn’t much to do but think,” she said.
He growled. “That was a cowardly act done in desperation. I am sorry you had to suffer that alone.”
