Chapter 12: Ten Cards

The old cook was waiting at the kitchen door when Drew walked me up from the beach.

She did not say a word. She wrapped both arms around me and held on until my ribs hurt.

She smelled of flour and woodsmoke. Nobody had held me like that in my life.

I stood stiff for a count of five, and then I put my face in her shoulder and cried.

"There," she said into my hair. "There now. That's right. About time."

After a while she pushed me into a chair by the stove and put a cup of tea in my hands.

"You hit the Rogue King," she said.

"Word travels."

"The nursery women watched you from the roof. Half the pack's been telling it all morning. I hear you broke his jaw."

"I think I only bloodied it."

"I'll tell it better," she said. "Drink."

Ellis came in last, with his sleeves pushed up and flour on his forearms.

He had been at the oven.

"I made it," he said. "The bread. It's not good yet. I've only done it three times. The first two I burned."

He put a plate on the table in front of me.

It was a small, lopsided loaf with a crust gone dark at one corner, and the whole kitchen smelled of lemon.

I tore off a piece and ate it.

It was dry. It was a little burned. It was the best thing I had tasted in my life.

"It's awful," I said, with my mouth full.

"I know."

"Do it again."

His whole face broke open.

Drew, leaning against the doorframe, made a sound that might have been a laugh.

"Nor," Ellis said. He had to stop and start again. "Can I show you something?"

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