I swung my knees toward Eava, finding her smiling down at the maybe-stew. “Did you hear that, you old bat?”
Something whizzed past my ear. A wooden spoon. “Next time, I’ll hit ye square between those pretty blue eyes.”
Did Aveen think my eyes were pretty? Did she notice the way this shirt made them that bit brighter? Ruairi interrupted my thoughts by pounding on the floor from his cell. If he didn’t keep it down, I’d flood the entire dungeon.
Eava left toast. I shifted butter. The pooka banged again.
“What’s that noise?” Aveen asked, peering beneath the table as if she’d be able to see through the floor.
“That’s Ruairi.” Was there ever a time the pooka didn’t irritate the shite out of me? If so, I couldn’t remember.
“It sounds like he’s under the floor.”
Toast. Sometimes that was all you needed to make the day better. “He is.”
“Where?”
“Where he belongs.” Actually, if it were up to me, he’d be chained and swimming in his own blood. Ah, well. There was always tomorrow.
Eava slammed a tray of food on the table. “What’d I tell ye about sendin’ that poor boy to the dungeon?”
I had a sneaking suspicion she liked Ruairi the best of all of us. She certainly accepted his proposals most often. “To be fair, I did warn him.” He was lucky I let him live for another day after trying to interfere with my bargain.
Aveen’s toast stilled halfway to her lovely, lovely lips. “How can you punish him for coming to my aid?”
“You didn’t need his aid.” She didn’t need anything from that filthy fleabag. He was as useful as a sieve in a rainstorm.
“Do I not? My apologies. I thought you were keeping me hostage.”
“Little Rían,” Eava chided. “What’d I tell ye about keepin’ hostages?”
“The same thing I told you about calling me ‘Little Rían.’”
* * *
After breakfast, I did the washing up. Aveen slid off her stool to help. She and Eava babbled about cooking lessons and a bunch of other shite I had no interest in. What Iwasinterested in was the way Aveen’s face brightened every time Eava asked her a question, and the way she laughed whenever I was an ass, like when I said I hated everything.
Which wasn’t entirely off the mark.
I liked Aveen.
And Eava.
I tolerated Tadhg.
And that was about it.
“He’s a tricky one, our Rían,” Eava said in a conspiratorial whisper. “With him, ye need to listen with yer eyes and yer heart.”
I didn’t have the luxury of enjoying anything because the moment I did, the Queen would take it away.
“Time to go, human.” I shoved the last dish into the press and let the door fall closed. No sense staying inside all day when there was work to be done.
Eava must’ve created a tost because what she whispered next remained between herself and Aveen. The human gave me a strange look. I wanted to ask but didn’t bother; I assumed she’d refuse to tell me. I led her out of the kitchens, down the hallway, through the dining room, and outside into stifling, overwarm air.
Aveen stilled at the edge of the patio. “The gardens?”
“No. The dungeon.” Of course it was the feckin’ garden.