Page 19 of Splintered Shadow
He shivered at the wrongness of the sight.
“You startled me. I’m fine.” Her stomach growled. She placed a hand over her abdomen, failing to stifle the sound. “Well, hungry. Is that food?”
She eyed the nutritional bars. He understood her doubt. The field rations provided enough fuel to maintain a body, but consuming the meals was an ordeal. He pointed to the chair in an unspoken command to sit. “Eat. We have much to discuss when you are finished.”
“Are you sure that’s food?” Despite her skepticism, she sat at the table and pulled a plate toward her. The bars jiggled with the motion. “Space jello.”
Her words were nonsensical.
“It is the cook’s day off,” he said. Unbelievably, she flashed her blunt teeth at him and laughed.
Laughed.
“You threaten me? I am no chef, but it is not that bad,” he said.
Vekele took the opposite chair. Well, perhaps it was believable. Field rations were an offense against anyone with functioning taste buds.
She pressed her lips together, then pushed the plate away. “Look, it’s not that I’m ungrateful. Thank you for saving me and patching me up, by the way. A-plus quality hero work. But I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t your murder shack in the mountains and I’m going to be a head you mount on a wall.”
He understood all her words individually, but together they made an incomprehensible mess.
“If I wanted you dead, I would have left you at Miria as a sacrifice to the old spirits there,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s what I think, but,” she waved a hand broadly to the room, “murder shack. It’s nice. A very nice murder shack. Very pre-French Revolution.”
More nonsense words, yet he understood her meaning. As a gesture of peace and goodwill, he unsheathed the blade strapped to his lower leg and placed it on the table. “I do not attack from behind, and if I did, I would use this.”
Her eyes went wide at the sight of the knife. He understood why; it was a very impressive knife.
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is, but you can do this.” She slid the plate toward him and tapped the table, waiting.
The presumption of this female.Behind him, the karu watched from her perch on the headboard. He felt her amusement through the bond.
“I am Prince Vekele of the House Shadowmark. You are my guest,” he said.
“Sarah Krasinski,” she replied. She stared at him, waiting.
He plucked the bar off the plate and took a bite. “I do not poison guests. It is horribly ill-mannered.”
This appeased her. She picked up a piece, brought it to her mouth, and then paused. “If I eat this, am I forever bound to your realm? Or are you trying to trick me into being your servant for a hundred years?”
“No,” he said, his voice flat.
“Just had to check.” She popped the morsel into her mouth. Her eyes went wide as she struggled to chew, then swallow. She coughed. “Wow, how is it chewy and slimy at the same time?”
“It is nutritionally balanced, not appetizing.” An unpleasant truth many soldiers learned. She reached for the cup, sniffing the contents. He understood her cautiousness. “It is a slurry of fruit, fruit juice, vegetable matter, and protein powder. Your body requires additional fuel while you recover from your injuries.”
“Mmm, a slurry.” Her tone mocked, but she closed her eyes and drank. They shot back open in surprise. “It’s a chocolate and banana smoothie. Why did you let me eat the slimy jello cubes when there’s a chocolate banana smoothie?”
“Because I poisoned the beverage,” he answered.
She blinked. It was so disturbing. Then she laughed.
His shoulders tensed, bristling at the insult of being laughed at. Slowly, he realized the female found his comment amusing.
“Explain the mark on your arm,” he said, no longer able to resist asking. Yes, he was too eager to know. A skilled agent would pick up on this and use it against him.
“This?” Sarah rubbed the royal mark. “It’s an owl. I thought it was funky.”
