Page 18 of Wizards & Weavers (Cozy Questing #1)

“Would you mind if I threw something together for dinner?”

Elyssandra nodded with such enthusiasm that Braiden was worried her head would wag right off her neck.

Augustin cleared his throat. “Actually, I was thinking of making one of my own specialties. You know, as a way to thank you both for being so kind to me.”

This time Braiden was sure Elyssandra’s head would fly right off her shoulders. The Wizard of Weathervale was volunteering to make her a meal? This was going straight into her journal.

“I see some dairy,” Braiden said, taking a closer look at the ice box. “A bit of butter, some milk. Elyssandra, are you sure the house came this way? You didn’t ‘accidentally acquire’ any of this stuff, did you? And please don’t tell me you ‘accidentally acquired’ the house.”

She huffed from somewhere behind him. “That is so catty of you, Braiden, and all because I might have accidentally stolen your bacon over breakfast that one time.”

It wasn’t a denial. Braiden made a noncommittal grunt that could have been interpreted as either accusatory or apologetic.

Augustin’s head poked into the ice box next to him.

The wizard heaved a grateful sigh as he basked in the gentle chill.

Braiden frowned, annoyed by the intrusion.

This close, he couldn’t help breathing Augustin in.

He smelled like the sea, a salty breeze with a hint of something fragrant and sweet. He smelled like the ocean wind.

“What’s this about accidental stealing?” Augustin whispered.

Braiden showed him a wildly exaggerated widening of eyes that was universally accepted to mean, “Shut up and I’ll tell you later.”

“No, really, I’m curious,” Augustin hissed, as if Elyssandra couldn’t hear him. Speaking into the ice box only amplified his voice.

“I can hear you in there,” Elyssandra said. “The two of you had better make something extra delicious to make up for this brutish attack on my character.”

“Eggs,” Braiden said, pulling out the carton, quietly tempted to shut the ice box’s lid on Augustin’s head. “I hope you like them, because it’s what we have the most of.”

With a little more time he might have had the patience to actually bake something. With a bit of cheese, perhaps he might even have enough for a savory pie. But some form of egg recipe would have to do.

“And I, too, will be demonstrating my expertise with eggs,” Augustin said, his skin looking oddly supple and refreshed from spending time among the dairy goods.

Elyssandra clasped her hands in excitement. “I’ll eat anything you put in front of me. Ask Braiden. Can I help?”

Augustin chuckled as he patted her on the shoulder, this smug savior of the Weathervale dungeon too heroic to need any help. Braiden smiled at Elyssandra and tipped his head toward the potatoes.

“I wouldn’t mind some help slicing some of those. Oh, and a few onions, too.”

Giddily, Elyssandra produced a chopping board from one of the drawers and reached for the knife block.

It didn’t look as though she had pulled on the knife’s handle at all.

Rather it seemed to slide out of the block with a metallic chink, as if the wood of the handle knew it would feel at home in her grasp.

She wielded the knife so gracefully, the blade slicing through whole potatoes as if they were no thicker than warm lumps of butter.

In Elyssandra’s hands, the common kitchen knife became an artisan’s tool, every slice as graceful as the stroke of a paintbrush, every flick of the wrist as efficient as a wand-slinging wizard.

Yet through the practiced rat-a-tat of Elyssandra’s work at the chopping board, the flash of the knife, the uniform slicing of potatoes, Braiden could not help staring at her eyes.

Within her gaze was an abiding coldness, as frozen as the elementals they’d fought, as blank as an empty sheet of parchment.

For all of Elyssandra’s expertise, Braiden knew that her mind was a world away.

Of course, it could have all been Braiden’s imagination. Perhaps he had never seen a true master at work.

The knife hacked one final time at the chopping board, leaving the faintest mark of a perfect line in the wood. Even Augustin flinched at the sudden crack.

“All done,” Elyssandra announced, suddenly all smiles again, as if she hadn’t just massacred a defenseless colony of potatoes with all the ruthless efficiency of a killer.

With a flick and a flourish, she flipped the knife so that her fingers grasped it by the blade.

She held it out, offering the handle to Braiden.

“Th-thank you,” Braiden stammered, almost afraid to take the knife. The wood was still warm from her touch.

“Happy to help. Let me know if you need anything else. I love chopping.” She gave the two of them the sweetest of smiles, then traipsed off to her bedroom.

The door clicked shut. Braiden stared blankly at the wet knife, the fluids of murdered potatoes still staining its blade. He only realized that Augustin was still standing there when the wizard exhaled, as if he’d forgotten to breathe.

“You saw that, didn’t you?” Augustin asked. He raked his fingers up and down his face in a vague gesture. “Her expression. The look in her eyes.”

Braiden nodded, then shuddered.

“I’ve had to fly through rainstorms, travel in the winter time.” Augustin crossed his arms and rubbed his elbows. “Nothing compares. That was chilling.”

He seemed so unsettled. Braiden very nearly considered reaching out to give him a little hug.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Braiden lied, wondering what Elyssandra truly meant when she said she enjoyed chopping.

He brushed it all away as he returned his mind to the task of cooking. Even coldblooded elven killers needed to eat.

Braiden searched his memories, double checking to make sure that the ingredients available to him would combine to make something delicious, something good — and most of all, something tastier than whatever travesty it was that Augustin had planned.

Braiden smiled and set to work.