shrugged. “I try to set a good example for Fleur but also, I don’t eat meat.”
He couldn’t mask his horror and Amelie burst into a robust laugh. Head tossed back and neck arched, she gave in fully to her humor. Sulen smirked and stirred the items around on his plate. It’s what he deserved for mirroring her order without knowing what it was. “Is it too late to add something...heartier?”
Still chuckling, she lifted her hand and the same server came back over as if he’d just been waiting in the wings. The crowd had grown and most of the tables that had been empty when they arrived were now full. Despite his focus on Amelie, Sulen had noted the arrival of each customer as they entered.
“Roktok, can you get Sulen an andirian steak. The biggest A’shar serves.”
Roktok nodded. “Absolutely.”
Sulen’s steak arrived, delivered by the return of Fleur, who carefully balanced the wide square plate between her hands. Her brows were creased and her tongue poked out in intense concentration. Sulen rose and caught the plate as it started to tip to the side.
Fleur dove past him to slide into her seat on the bench. Sulen glanced at his food and noticed a tiny corner of his steak missing. Concerns of food tampering as always rose. Fleur pointed with her eating utensil. “I tasted it for you.”
Snickering, Amelie finished her vegetable platter and watched him devour the perfectly cooked steak with a hint of red at the center. Fleur didn’t seem bothered by her food being cold and ate her nidbits and curlies then pointed to Sulen’s pile of vegetables still sitting on the separate plate. “Don’t forget your veggies to be healthy.”
Amelie choked on another laugh and quickly sipped her water to hide the sound. Sulen grimaced and tossed his napkin over the plate he refused to touch. “I’m full.”
Fleur paused with a curlie at her mouth. She tilted her head to the side, her voice a rare serious tone. “You don’t wants to be big and strong?”
Amelie watched their interaction closely, her chin propped on her palm. If she thought he would cave, she was wrong. Fleur fluttered her lashes waiting for his response. The fact Sulen actually considered eating the vegetables in the wake of that childish hope scared him.
Fortunately, a disturbance at the front of the restaurant prevented him from having to make good on being an example for a four year old when it was clear he was already big and strong and not because he’d eaten weird looking vegetables.
“What do you mean the place is full?!”
At the entrance, Roan’s near shout had several customers turning in that direction. His wife, Aviana, clung to his elbow beside him, looking around with her chin tipped up. The Ambassador of Trigodor was with them.
Gaze intent on the interaction, Sulen almost missed the way Fleur huddled into his side. She stood on the seat and buried her face in the base of his throat, her tiny arms around his neck.
She was shaking from head to toe. A low growl rumbled from his chest to his throat. Her fear was like setting a match to a flame and his response was instant. Wrapping an arm about her hips, he made sure his hold was solid in case he had to move quickly.
“I want to eat here. We were told it’s the best place to get a traditional Dorian dinner. Do you know how far we’d have to travel to ever have the experience of Dorian food?”
That from Aviana in a high pitched voice as they slowly drew more and more notice their way. Not that they seemed to care. The little information Sulen had pulled up on them so far wasn’t positive. If the ambassador wasn’t careful, he’d lose his seat catering to his spoiled daughter and her husband.
Rumors were already spreading about Roan’s less than stellar performance and lack of decorum dealing with dignitaries. Aviana was disliked overall and always had been. In another day or so, Sulen would have a full background on all of them and know how to act regarding their unnatural interest in Amelie’s daughter.
“I wanna go, Daddy,” Fleur mumbled against the skin of his neck.
Ire increasing, Sulen stood abruptly. Fleur curved her body with the motion, latching tighter to him. Moments ago, the tiny dynamo had been a bundle of giggles, comfortable and relaxed in an environment that had always provided her with a sense of security. Now, these pricks had taken that from