Page 25 of The Deathless One (The Gravesinger #1)

Shrugging, she tucked into the food. Her feline companion leapt off her shoulders, lying down with its big paws on either side of the bowl while it gnawed on the hunk of flesh.

Sybil was an exceptional cook, and Jessamine thought that as a woman who had grown up with personal chefs.

After a few weeks here, she’d learned to just eat and devour whatever Sybil gave her.

And even though she’d choked down rotten food during her weeks in the street, she could still recognize the skill of a master.

Even this simple meal of homemade bread, a small amount of homemade cheese, and bites of fresh fruit was ridiculously flavorful.

Mouth full, she glanced up to see Sybil watching her with a soft expression. One that she hadn’t seen on the witch’s face before.

“What?” Jessamine asked.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone enjoy food like you do.”

“Oh, sorry.” Quickly wiping her mouth on her sleeve, Jessamine tried to sit up straight and stop shoving the food into her mouth. “It’s hard to imagine I was a princess seated at many important functions, I’m sure. I do know how to be polite and eat the correct way.”

“Is there a correct way to eat?”

“Yes. I know what utensil is correct to use depending on the situation, and I know how slowly to eat the food. Women are to take only small bites and never have so much food in their mouth that they couldn’t respond to anyone at the drop of a hat.

” She parroted the words that she’d been taught her entire life.

“Decorum is important. It is what makes us stand out from the animals.”

Said animal had gorged itself on milk and was now pawing at Jessamine’s plate. She let the little one steal a piece of cheese, which it messily ate. Scales covered its paws, fur, and face.

Sighing, she speared the appropriate square of cheese with her fork and gently placed the small amount on her tongue.

Chewing slowly and deliberately, she swallowed before looking at Sybil and saying, “See? A perfect lady.” But as she stared longingly at the food, she wanted to just shovel it into her mouth and fill her belly.

She was starving after a night spent running around, and it really was tasty.

“I didn’t realize a lady had to eat slowly when she was hungry.”

“We’re supposed to know what we’re eating, too. It’s not necessarily just for our figures, but also to make sure that we are healthy.” She paused, taking the correct amount of time between bites, even if it made her stomach rumble painfully.

Sybil reached across the island and placed her hand on top of Jessamine’s. “Maybe while you’re here, you just eat, love. Forget all the rules. You aren’t sitting at a table with officials or nobles or politicians. You’re in my kitchen, and you’re hungry. So eat however you’d like.”

The permission made tears burn in her eyes before she nodded and began eating to her heart’s content.

She barely stopped, even to breathe, as she chewed and swallowed and rushed through every delicious bite until she didn’t feel like she was about to pass out.

When she was done, her belly was distended and she’d never cared less in her life.

With a heaving breath of relief, she even put her elbows on the table as she leaned over the plate of food. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in one sitting.”

“Good. You deserve that.”

It was so warm in here. So cozy and so… everything that she’d ever wanted. The kitchens were off-limits where she came from, and it wasn’t like she was going to break those rules. Not when she knew just how much trouble she’d be in.

But she had read books about warm hearths like this. A friend on the other side, food and stories that made people laugh.

She just… didn’t know how to have that. Not yet, at least. But this moment made her dream that maybe, someday, she could.

She would know how to laugh with friends and to tell stories they would enjoy.

Someday, she wouldn’t feel like a princess pretending to be a peasant to experience what life might be like.

What was she supposed to do now? Thank Sybil and slink off back to the altar room, where she would read more spell books that she didn’t understand? She didn’t want to do that.

She wanted to talk. She wanted to have a conversation with this woman who very much intimidated her.

And Sybil was standing there like she was expecting Jessamine to say something, or ask something, or do something rather than sit like a lump at the island, floundering because she didn’t know how to talk to someone who didn’t have some kind of expectation of her.

Opening her mouth, she blurted out the first thing that she could think of. “Why do you like magic so much?”

Sybil blinked. “Because it gives me power.”

“I had power as a princess. It wasn’t all that great.” She touched a hand to her neck. “It got me killed.”

“We’re women. We all need whatever power we can eke out of this universe.”

Power had gotten Jessamine nothing in her life, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she’d ever really had any to begin with. “I guess I don’t know what you mean.”

“How many women have you met who are convinced they’re on the brink of madness?

They’ve been told countless times to bury everything they are.

Their emotions. Their hopes and dreams. Their anger.

All of it shoved so deep down that they cannot even think or breathe through the pain of hiding it.

But not us. Not a witch. A witch is everything they tell us not to be.

We are chaos and blood. Wetness and rage.

Howling at the moon that we will not be silenced or forgotten.

We are everything that they fear and covet. ”

With every word, Jessamine felt something unlock inside of her.

She stared down at her plate, realizing there were chains wrapped around her from generations of locks that had long ago lost their keys.

Just like knowing there was a particular way she was allowed to eat.

Just like not knowing what she wanted to wear.

And being uncomfortable sitting at a table with someone she wanted to call a friend, because she didn’t know how to talk to someone who wasn’t of the same station.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “I just don’t know how to be what everyone wants me to be.”

“Then don’t.” Sybil pushed herself away from the island, casting a sad smile in her direction before she gathered up the kitten in her arms. “Be who you want to be, Lady Jessamine. Even if that takes a lifetime to figure out. I’ll put the little one to bed in your room.

It’s been wreaking havoc on the house all day.

By the way, do you have any plans to name it? ”

“Nyx,” Jessamine said, something deep inside of her nearly screaming the name. “Her name is Nyx.”