Soon she and two other soldiers brought in the brass hip tub and filled it with pails of steaming water. Niniane stripped without ceremony or self-consciousness and collapsed into the bath. As she soaked, Cameron brought her Aleve and hot spiced cider. Twenty minutes later she dried and dressed in fresh jeans and sweater. She was still sore, but at least she could move with more freedom. She left the other woman to soak and stepped out of the tent.
After the warmth of her tent, the air felt sharp and bracing. The camp had become well established. Her tent was in the most protected area, surrounded by others on all sides and well lit by campfires. The sun had dropped below the tree line. The rich evening light was beginning to fade. It had become diffuse enough that the Vampyres were able to shed their protective clothing.
Aryal sat on a log at the campfire in front of Niniane’s tent, tending several rabbits she roasted on spits over the fire. A couple of nylon coolers were stacked near her long, lean legs. Rune stood near the harpy, his hands on his hips, as he watched the activity around the other fires. Tiago would be around somewhere, Niniane knew, but she couldn’t see him at the moment, and his bag was nowhere in sight. Niniane frowned, crossed her arms and tapped her foot, thinking.
Rune caught sight of her. “Hey, pip-squeak. We’ve got supper here if you’re feeling hungry. There’s the fancy stuff in the coolers, and Aryal wanted fresh, hot meat.”
“About fifteen more minutes and the rabbit will be done,” Aryal said.
“Thanks. Where’s Tiago?”
Rune said in her head, He’s been interacting with the troops, working to build a rapport. They seem to like him. I think he’s trying to get Arethusa to loosen up. She said she would share whatever she found out on her end of the investigation, but then she went tight-mouthed on us. Maybe he can get her to talk.
She nodded and frowned at the leaping flames of the campfire. All she wanted was to take a seat at the campfire, relax her aching body among friends and stay in the protected bubble that had been created for her, but she knew she needed to reach out to the Dark Fae as much as Tiago, if not more. She looked up at Rune, “I should tour the camp.”
He nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He fell into step behind her as she walked from campfire to campfire. She stopped to talk with the troops, learning each of their names, and she thanked them for setting up such a comfortable campsite. She left them smiling as she walked to Kellen’s site.
The Dark Fae male was eating a simple supper of stew and pan bread. He set it aside to stand as she approached. She raised a hand. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see how everyone was doing. Please, don’t let me interrupt you.”
“But your interruption is the highlight of my day,” Kellen said. He smiled and gestured to the stool beside him. “I’m so glad you came. Please join me. I have such a taste for my man Huwyn’s field stew. I ask him to make it every time we travel. May I offer you some?”
She sat on the stool he offered. She kept her expression bland. A traditional Dark Fae field stew was an autumn hunter’s dish. It consisted of whatever wild game one could catch, cooked with dried berries, herbs and roots. Kellen’s passion for the stew could very well stem from how safe he knew his meal was. She told him, “My supper is being prepared, but I would love to taste Huwyn’s stew. I haven’t had field stew in ages.”
She felt rather than heard Rune move behind her. Kellen’s smile widened. He gave her a knowing look. He offered her his bowl, from which he had already taken several bites. “I would be honored if you tried a bite of mine.”
“Thank you,” she said. She took his bowl and tasted the stew. It was a rich, hearty blend of sweet and savory. She took another big bite before she made herself stop, then she handed the bowl back to him. “That is delicious. Perhaps next time I can coax Huwyn to make a larger pot to share.”
“I know he would be transported with delight,” Kellen told her.
She talked with him for a few minutes about their day, letting the conversation develop a relaxed tone. Then she said, “I would like to run something by you, if I may.”
“Of course,” Kellen said, his intelligent gaze fixing on her expression.
She regarded the leaping flames of his campfire as she sought to find the right words. “I know how much tradition means to you, and how much it means to many of the Dark Fae,” she said at last. “It is important to me to honor our traditions while also looking for ways to open up Dark Fae society to new opportunities. I think striking a balance may be tricky, and I’m hoping to talk with you from time to time about my ideas, if you’re open to that.”