Her eyes met his boldly, and she let him study her without embarrassment or indignation. As her own gaze swept over him, he curled his fingers under the tray, suddenly conscious of his dirty fingernails. She gestured at the table. “Just put it anywhere there’s room. I’ll serve myself.”
He realized how long he’d stared and hastily set the tray down, sloshing the soup and clattering the tableware. She dropped back into the chair and reached out to help him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” she said.
“No, my lady,” he replied, mopping up soup with a cloth. “I came with the escort. The kitchen was short staffed, and I was told to make myself useful.”
“You’re a soldier?” Her eyes brightened, and he nodded. “It’s good of you to help. And who wouldn’t want a glimpse of our lovely ladies? Are you spying for your captain?”
Her tone was light, but he flinched and immediately cursed himself for it. She continued as though she hadn’t noticed his reaction. “I suppose it’s natural for people to be curious about them.”
She spoke of the group as though she wasn’t a part of it. Or—strangely—like she owned it. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Ash,” he answered without thinking. Then, remembering how he should act, he straightened and bowed. “Ash Carter, my lady. I mostly drive wagons.”
Her half smile took on a wistfulness. “Ash is a nice name. It reminds me of the woods where I grew up. How long have you been with the cavalry?”
“All my life, my lady. I’ve been serving with Captain Quinn since he was given command, but I’ve known him since I was a boy.” He halted, realizing he gave more information than he should have.
She tilted her head to the side like a bird as she looked up at him, and he instinctively felt he’d made a mistake, though he could not decide how.
“Well, Master Ash,” she said. “My name is Sagerra, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. What have you brought me to eat?”
“Cold chicken with apricot sauce and vegetables, my lady, as well as bread and cheese and butter. This is Cook’s specialty.” He lifted the cover on the bowl. “Onion soup.”
Lady Sagerra had leaned forward to sniff the steam rising from the dish but jerked back in revulsion. “Ick. They put onions in everything here. I can’t imagine an entire soup based on them.”
He paused, lid still in midair. “Truly, my lady? It’s my favorite.”
She gestured for him to close the steaming vessel. “You eat it, then.”
“My lady, I couldn’t!”
“Why not?” she replied. “If I send it back uneaten, what happens to it?”
He blinked. “They’ll throw it to the pigs, I suppose.”
“And you’ll get none.”
He shook his head. “I’ll get some in the kitchens later, my lady.”
Sagerra made an unladylike retching sound. “Suit yourself, but you’ll be lucky to get cold dregs. Meanwhile, next week’s pork roast will taste like onions.”
He suppressed a smile. Maybe he could develop this into the connection the soldiers wanted within the brides’ group. And that ledger she had was interesting. He didn’t want to seem too eager, though. “My lady, it really is improper.”
“Please?” she asked simply. “Just sit and relax for a few minutes. I haven’t talked to anyone all day. I’ve never talked to a soldier ever.”
He pulled a chair from the side of the table so he could sit across from her. Sagerra tossed him the spoon, and he caught it, grinning shyly. “I don’t know if I’m worth much for conversation, my lady.”
“Then eat.” She pulled the bread loaf apart and leaned across the table to offer him one of the pieces, and he eyed it nervously. It was much larger than the one she kept for herself. “I’m not that hungry,” she said.
He took the bread, careful not to touch her fingers. “Thank you, my lady.”
She sat back and dug into her own food. He followed her example and didn’t speak, though his eyes kept drifting to the ledger on the edge of the table. What was its purpose?
“So, Ash,” Lady Sagerra said after she’d eaten half her plate, “where do you come from? Near the Tenne Valley?”
His mouth was too full to answer right away. “Yes, my lady. How did you know?” And why do you care? he asked silently.
“Your speech is quick, something I’ve noticed in people from that side of the mountains.”
He relaxed a little. One of the first things he’d noticed was her own Cresceran accent—she made the slightest separation in words he combined into one, such as anyone and everything. “I left home for the army when I was nine, but I guess home never left me.”
“Do you miss it? Your home?”
His answer required a careful dose of truth, but not too much. “I did at first, but they kept us busy, and that helped. The army is my family now.”
It suddenly occurred to him that she, too, had left her family behind for a new one, but unlike him, she’d never be returning home. Did she feel as he had years ago, traveling into the unknown, feeling excitement and a sense of duty, but also a terrible loneliness and fear of the future? As his eyes drifted back to the ledger under the stack of books, he wondered if she buried herself in work as he had.
Sagerra’s hand appeared in his line of sight and picked up the book on top. “Were you looking at this?”
“No, my lady,” he said quickly, before realizing she wasn’t talking about the ledger.
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Well, it’s a rather interesting account of King Pascal the Third’s reign. Are you familiar with him?”
He knew quite a lot about the kings of Demora, but she didn’t need to know that. “Not really, my lady.”
Sagerra sighed a little. “Soldiers don’t need to know history, I guess.” She placed the book back on the stack and returned to her food. “I suppose it was a little much to hope for.”
She thought soldiers uneducated. Ignorant. Not worth talking to. He ducked his head to his soup to hide the blood rushing to his face.
“Were you schooled at all in your training?” she asked.
No, he wanted to say. We just learned to stab things and march. Instead he cleared his throat. “Not as much as your ladyship was, I’m sure.”
He needed to moderate his tone or he would get in trouble. Or worse, he’d lose his cover and look like a fool in front of the whole company.
“I guess education doesn’t count for much in your work,” she said.
He clenched his jaw and focused on a chunk of bread dissolving in the now-cold soup as she continued, “It probably makes life easier.”
“Easier if I don’t know any better?” he snapped before he could stop himself.
She frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Easier to be as obedient as a child? To not question anything?” Perhaps there was an element of truth in such accusations, but he found it insulting nonetheless.
“Of course not,” she said. “But … an army’s success depends quite a bit on soldiers following orders, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I wasn’t aware my lady was such an expert in military affairs.”
Sagerra exhaled heavily. “Do you or do you not follow orders you’re given?”