nor, indeed, any other means by which she could partake of the food currently being passed about the tables.
Floote, who had already completed his meal, shyly offered her his dirty trencher. “Apologies, madam, it is the best you’ll get.”
Alexia raised both eyebrows but took it. What an odd thing to have to do. Were all Italians this rude?
Madame Lefoux offered Alexia the platter of sliced melon. “Three nights of decent sleep. That’s how long you’ve been out.”
“What!”
Floote intercepted the melon when Alexia would have served herself. “Let me do that for you, madam.”
“Why, thank you, Floote, but that is not necessary.”
“Oh, yes, madam, it is.” After which he proceeded to serve her anything she wished. It was as though he was trying to keep her from touching any of the utensils. Peculiar behavior, even for Floote.
Madame Lefoux continued with her explanation. “Don’t ask me what they drugged us with. My guess is a concentrated opiate of some kind. But we were all asleep for three full nights.”
“No wonder I am so hungry.” This was rather worrying. Alexia glanced again at the silent, weapon-riddled men around her. Then shrugged. Food first, ominous Italians second. Alexia tucked in. The fare was simple but delicious, although entirely lacking in any meat. In addition to the melon, chunks of crunchy, salted bread, white with flour, were on offer, as well as a hard, sharp yellow cheese, apples, and a pitcher of some dark liquid that smelled like heaven. Floote poured a portion for her into his cup.
Alexia took a tentative sip and was quite overwhelmed by an acute sense of betrayal. It was absolutely vile tasting, a mixture of quinine and burnt dandelion leaves.
“That, I am to assume, is the infamous coffee?”
Madame Lefoux nodded, pouring herself a splash and then adding a good deal of honey and milk. Alexia could not believe a whole hive of honey capable of rescuing the foul drink. Imagine preferring that to tea!
A bell sounded and, in a shifting rustle, most of the gentlemen departed and a new crowd entered. These men were slightly less well dressed and a little less refined in their movements, although they, too, ate in complete silence to the sound of the Bible being read aloud. And they, too, were covered in weaponry. Alexia noticed with annoyance that clean utensils were set before them without bother. But the staff, milling about with platters of food and additional coffee, ignored Alexia with as much thoroughness as the men seated around her. Really, it was beginning to make her feel quite invisible. She attempted a subtle sniff of her arm. Did she stink?
Just to test a theory, and because she was never one to take anything sitting down—even when she was, in fact, sitting down—Alexia scooted along the bench toward her nearest Italian neighbor, stretching out a hand in his direction, pretending to reach for the bread. In a flash, he was up off the bench and backing away, still not exactly looking at her but warily watching her movements out of the corner of his eye. So it wasn’t just that they were ignoring her; they were actively avoiding her as well.
“Floote, what is going on? Do they think I am contagious? Should I assure them I was born with a nose this size?”
Floote frowned. “Templars.” He intercepted another platter that would have bypassed Alexia and offered her some steamed greens.
Madame Lefoux frowned. “I did not know their reaction to a soulless would be quite so extreme. This is bizarre, but I suppose given their beliefs…” She trailed off, looking at Alexia thoughtfully.
“What? What did I do?”
“Something highly offensive, apparently.”
Floote snorted in a most un-Floote-like manner. “She was born.”
For the moment, Alexia decided to follow the Templars’ lead and so ignored them in turn, eating her meal with gusto. The infant-inconvenience and she appeared to have reached an agreement. She was now allowed to eat in the mornings. In return, Alexia was beginning to think upon the little being if not with affection, then at least with tolerance.
At the sound of a second bell, all of the men rose and began filing out of the courtyard, going off about their business without a by-your-leave. Even the Bible reader departed, leaving Alexia, Floote, and Madame Lefoux alone in the massive courtyard. Although Alexia managed to complete her meal before the staff were done cleaning up, no servant took her now-twice-dirty trencher. At a loss, Alexia began to gather up her eating utensils herself, thinking she would