“Thank you,” Everly says as her sister hands her a chunk.
The moment I take a bite, I realize I could never measure up to Kassandra’s baking abilities. I have a second, larger bite and sigh.
“That good?” Averill asks.
“It’s delicious.” I savor another piece and imagine a world where I have something this delicious every day.
“Kassandra has always been a fantastic cook.” A knowing smile pulls at Averill’s mouth. “Why do you think Luc takes her to cook for him and his men?”
Her grandmother waves a wooden spoon. “He take her to wife.”
“No.” Red sears Kassandra’s cheeks. “Luc doesn’t care for me in that way.”
“Luc take Kassandra to wife.” Her grandmother slams her spoon against the table. “He take her.”
“Darla,” Averill begins, her tone gentle. “Luc hasn’t married Kassandra.”
A fierce frown wrenches at Everly’s mouth as she finishes her soup and carries her terracotta bowl to the small washing stand.
Darla strikes her spoon against the table for a second time. “He will.”
Kassandra yanks off sections of bread and eats in quick bites. Her fingers shake as she continues ripping and eating.
“We planted seeds,” I say, recognizing Kassandra’s need for a change of subject.
“Oh.” Averill glances between us. “What type of seeds?”
Knowing she probably wouldn’t understand, I lie. “The usual kind.”
Kassandra doesn’t correct me as she places tiny pieces of wood in a nearby brazier. She lights it, and the sweet tangy smell of cedar fills the air. I inhale as nostalgia sweeps over me, the feeling of belonging, comfort, peace.
I blink, willing it away. It recedes like the tide as I take a sip of wine. If I’m going to succeed, I cannot allow thoughts of home.
Darla lowers her bony fingers to the table and exhales. “I go again.”
“No,” Kassandra says, her tone gentle, yet firm. “You cannot leave, Grandmother.”
“Kassandra’s right,” Averill says. “She may not be able to find you a second time.”
The old woman tsks beneath her breath and rocks back and forth. “I go. I find Estrid. Olah says.”
Estrid? It’s the second time, the old woman has mentioned that name.
Sadness pulls at Averill’s features as she leans forward, capturing the old woman’s wrinkled hands in hers. “I know you miss her. We all do, but you cannot run away again.”
When darkness fringes the lone window in the cottage, I return to the home I share with Gabriel. Firelight draws me to the man staring into the flames.
“I...” I swallow and continue. “I was with Kassandra.”
He doesn’t glance up from his fire gazing. “You don’t have to tell me where you go.”
I sit on a chair near him and study his stern jaw, his tight lips, as if he hasn’t smiled in days. He probably hasn’t. “What do you do while you’re away?”
“Train.” He rises to refill his goblet. Instead of wine, he pours mint tea into the terracotta pottery.
“Every day? That must get tiresome.”
Shadows dance across his face as he returns to his seat. “I enjoy it.”
