she couldn’t finish that sentence. She was sure she was better than whoever had been cooking for her. Even without spices, the food should have had more flavor, but almost every dish had been overcooked to the point of being mushy.
“Yes, fantastic.” The Second sipped his tea, and Kairi excused herself back outside. “Our annual cooking competition was disrupted when my assistant and his wife had an argument get out of control and broke many of the tables. Our master furniture worker is busy with new tables. He should be finished soon. I can always hurry him up. Let’s have you enter the competition. That will be a nice way for you to win your place.”
Charity’s eyes widened, and she swallowed. What if she couldn’t deliver? What if she embarrassed herself in front of everyone? What if she got so annoyed that they were worrying about tables and cooking and gardens, instead of what Vlad had said about what the elves were doing to people, that she accidentally kicked someone in the face? She still wasn’t exactly stable; there was no telling what effect stress would have.
Devon squeezed her hand and bumped her shoulder with his. “You’ll be fine. You’ll win, hands-down.”
Andy raised his hand. “I’ll taste-test.”
Charity took another sip of tea to hide her thought process, letting the flavors delicately flow over her tongue. As she pulled the elegant cup away from her mouth, she stared down at the light brown beverage.
An idea sparked.
Suddenly, she knew exactly how to make an impression. She hoped it was enough to solidify her place here.
She also hoped that those elves or demons didn’t push into the Flush, grab her away from the battle ignorant village, and render all of this useless.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“All I’m saying is, they have knives, made with metal, so why don’t they have bedframes?” Andy paused and gave Rod a poignant look. “Right?”
He’d seen Charity’s super-comfortable house two days ago, and she’d certainly had a bedframe. Of course, she lived in what was clearly the nice part of town. Since then, he’d barely seen her. The Arcana were keeping her incredibly busy, giving her etiquette tutoring, fighting training, and now monitoring her every move regarding this cooking thing. Without coming out and saying it, they had impressed upon Charity the severity of her failing, which Devon said was only part of what was playing hell on Charity’s nerves. The other part she apparently shrugged off whenever he asked. It was anyone’s guess what that could be. Something else was bothering her, though; Devon said that much was clear. Something about this setup, or her status, or these people wasn’t jibing with her, but damned if she’d say what. It was annoying Devon something awful, and annoying the pack in turn, since it put Devon in a terrible mood.
“Visitors don’t need to have digs as nice as Charity’s, but a bedframe would be nice,” Andy said.
This place was getting to him. The formality and underlying hostility drove him nuts. He’d even stopped seeing the fae girls. Apparently, screwing a shifter was some sort of sexual taboo. Even if he had a great night with one of them, the next day she acted like she’d never seen him before. It was screwed up.
Something was definitely up with these people. They were cool and normal when it was one on one, or on the battle yard, but within that village, no go. It was like someone had spray-painted has a contagious disease on all the shifters and none of the fae wanted to catch it.
“I don’t think they like visitors,” Macy said, standing next to Rod in the communal kitchen, watching him chop something resembling a carrot on steroids. Sorrow lined her features and bent her body. They’d all taken Dillon’s passing hard, but Macy had been hit the hardest. She spent a lot of time by herself lately, walking around the village with Penny and Emery, or beating heads on the “battlefield.”
Thankfully, after the fae boys heard of her connection to Dillon, they left her alone. Well, unless they wanted to incite her rage. And some of them did. Those usually ended up with the healer. The onlookers had smiles as the douche was carried away.
“That’s an understatement,” Rod said to Macy. “Has Devon said how long we’re staying?”
“He’s not leaving without Charity,” Yasmine said from beside the window. She was the only woman who’d partaken in the fae boys. Her interest had lasted exactly one day. She’d figured out early