“Right. So…no pressure,” she mumbled.
“None at all.” He smiled at her, not picking up on the sarcasm. “You have all of our people behind you. We will not let you fail.”
Devon squeezed her hand, and she lowered her suddenly burning face. She had no idea why that sentiment should embarrass her when it felt so good to hear.
“A proficiency in fighting is also required of any Arcana,” her father said. He raised his hands in triumph. “And you have already passed. That is exemplary for one so young. So far, your place is assured. There is just one more thing.”
“This is the sticky part,” Devon murmured, translating a silent message Charity hadn’t even noticed.
“Every person of status in our humble little village has a skill set to benefit the people as a whole. It is a skill set that sets an individual apart. That defines them.” Her father’s smile was gentle. “I know your skill set will be highly applauded.”
She frowned. “What skill set would that be?”
“That’s what he’s here to find out,” Devon whispered, taking a cup of tea from Kairi—the steeping and adding of random embellishments made pouring tea a sort of event.
Charity took her own cup, worry eating through her. “Well…I’ve always only excelled at fighting.”
“You’re an excellent student,” Devon said. “You made straight A’s this last semester.”
“Oh, that is something. A scholar.” The Second sipped his tea, his eyebrows pinched. Charity didn’t need translating to know that he was not overly ecstatic at the prospect.
She searched her brain for anything domestic or natural she did, since that seemed to be what these people were into. Flowers and painting and needlepoint—none of her schooling had ever prepared her for this stuff. Metal shop, wood shop, sewing—those courses had all been canceled due to lack of funding. At college, she was studying chemical engineering with a minor in computer science, something that would have set her up for lots of job opportunities with good paychecks in the Brink, but not something that could be applied in this setting. They probably didn’t even know what computers were.
“You’re an excellent cook,” Andy offered. “Something I am reminded of both because I’m hungry, and this place could use you. They don’t make plants taste nearly as good as you do, Charity. And the meat? A little ketchup, please. I need some flavor. Only, they don’t have ketchup!” Andy stilled. He dropped his head. “No offense.”
“They have people to cook. They don’t need—”
“Cooking, did you say?” The Second scrutinized her. “Yes, your mother did outstanding things in the kitchen, I remember. Why didn’t I think of it? Of course she would’ve passed on her mastery to her daughter, as my father passed his skill set on to me. Silly of me not to remember. Yes, that will do nicely. I was but a boy when our master culinary designer passed. We lost him early, sadly, and his excellence has not since been matched.”
“I mean, I’m all right.” Charity shrugged. “I’m sure I’m not…” But 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?”