Page 38 of The Deathless One
“That’s what I call them. A group of them, wandering around. Makes it hard to get away.” Sybil winked as she stepped over to the central island. “It’s part of the reason why magic is so useful. Here we are, certain that the only way to fix things is to what? Gather them all up and ship them somewhere else? Magic could solve a lot of these problems, but no one wants to admit that we should use it.”
Setting her new clothes down on a fairly clean spot on the floor, Jessamine peered around the ancient kitchen. It was the cleanest part of the entirebuilding that she’d seen so far. Fresh herbs hung from the ceiling in neatly tied bundles. The counters were now filled with flowering plants that spilled down to the floor in vibrant colors. The island was clean, mostly, and held a few freshly picked fruits and vegetables. The ancient cast-iron stove in the back had seen better days, but it was free from rust or the effects of time.
Everything smelled warm and herby, and with the faintest hint of freshly baked bread. This was clearly a room well loved, and often used.
Sybil chuckled at the look on her face. “What? Did you think every room in the manor was falling apart?”
“Yes.”
“A hearth witch wouldn’t be caught dead with her kitchen in disarray.” Sybil walked around the island and started putting a plate together. She unwrapped a wax-covered cheese from the cloth, pulled down a small slice of cured meat, and… Was that jam in a jar? “Have a seat. I can see you’ve been talking with the Deathless One again. You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
“How did you know?” Jessamine sat down carefully on the stool in front of the island, just in case the rickety old wood decided to collapse.
“Flushed cheeks, bright eyes.” Sybil set the plate down in front of her, then reached under the counter and somehow procured a small fish she tossed to the kitten. “No charcoal on your neck this time, though. You must have pleased him.”
She didn’t want to think about the last two times Sybil had found her after talking with that god. The charcoal took forever to wash off. Something about it just clung to her skin.
Maybe it had something to do with the part of her that was connected to him. The fact that he’d given her life had certainly made it hard to get away from him, that was for sure. She supposed it was as good a guess as any.
Shrugging, she tucked into the food. Her feline companion leapt off her shoulders, lying down with its big paws on either side of the bowl while it gnawed on the hunk of flesh. Sybil was an exceptional cook, and Jessamine thought that as a woman who had grown up with personal chefs. After a few weeks here, she’d learned to just eat and devour whatever Sybil gave her. And even though she’d choked down rotten food during herweeks in the street, she could still recognize the skill of a master. Even this simple meal of homemade bread, a small amount of homemade cheese, and bites of fresh fruit was ridiculously flavorful.
Mouth full, she glanced up to see Sybil watching her with a soft expression. One that she hadn’t seen on the witch’s face before.
“What?” Jessamine asked.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone enjoy food like you do.”
“Oh, sorry.” Quickly wiping her mouth on her sleeve, Jessamine tried to sit up straight and stop shoving the food into her mouth. “It’s hard to imagine I was a princess seated at many important functions, I’m sure. I do know how to be polite and eat the correct way.”
“Is there a correct way to eat?”
“Yes. I know what utensil is correct to use depending on the situation, and I know how slowly to eat the food. Women are to take only small bites and never have so much food in their mouth that they couldn’t respond to anyone at the drop of a hat.” She parroted the words that she’d been taught her entire life. “Decorum is important. It is what makes us stand out from the animals.”
Said animal had gorged itself on milk and was now pawing at Jessamine’s plate. She let the little one steal a piece of cheese, which it messily ate. Scales covered its paws, fur, and face.
Sighing, she speared the appropriate square of cheese with her fork and gently placed the small amount on her tongue. Chewing slowly and deliberately, she swallowed before looking at Sybil and saying, “See? A perfect lady.” But as she stared longingly at the food, she wanted to just shovel it into her mouth and fill her belly. She was starving after a night spent running around, and it really was tasty.
“I didn’t realize a lady had to eat slowly when she was hungry.”
“We’re supposed to know what we’re eating, too. It’s not necessarily just for our figures, but also to make sure that we are healthy.” She paused, taking the correct amount of time between bites, even if it made her stomach rumble painfully.
Sybil reached across the island and placed her hand on top of Jessamine’s. “Maybe while you’re here, you just eat, love. Forget all the rules.You aren’t sitting at a table with officials or nobles or politicians. You’re in my kitchen, and you’re hungry. So eat however you’d like.”
The permission made tears burn in her eyes before she nodded and began eating to her heart’s content. She barely stopped, even to breathe, as she chewed and swallowed and rushed through every delicious bite until she didn’t feel like she was about to pass out. When she was done, her belly was distended and she’d never cared less in her life.
With a heaving breath of relief, she even put her elbows on the table as she leaned over the plate of food. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in one sitting.”
“Good. You deserve that.”
It was so warm in here. So cozy and so… everything that she’d ever wanted. The kitchens were off-limits where she came from, and it wasn’t like she was going to break those rules. Not when she knew just how much trouble she’d be in.
But she had read books about warm hearths like this. A friend on the other side, food and stories that made people laugh.
She just… didn’t know how to have that. Not yet, at least. But this moment made her dream that maybe, someday, she could. She would know how to laugh with friends and to tell stories they would enjoy. Someday, she wouldn’t feel like a princess pretending to be a peasant to experience what life might be like.
What was she supposed to do now? Thank Sybil and slink off back to the altar room, where she would read more spell books that she didn’t understand? She didn’t want to do that.
She wanted to talk. She wanted to have a conversation with this woman who very much intimidated her. And Sybil was standing there like she was expecting Jessamine to say something, or ask something, or do something rather than sit like a lump at the island, floundering because she didn’t know how to talk to someone who didn’t have some kind of expectation of her.
