Chapter 10: Bring a Story

Osric arrived at supper carrying no flowers, no silver, and a small wooden counter.

Bram saw it and went to fetch the cards.

"After we eat," Deborah told him.

"I was only making him comfortable," my uncle said.

The king took the chair opposite mine.

I had left the place free without admitting to myself why.

He put the counter beside his fork.

"For later," he told Bram.

My uncle beamed at him.

It was alarming how little it took to win a man my family liked.

Deborah brought out potatoes with their skins crisp from the oven.

I broke one open and let the butter melt into it.

Nobody asked whether the meal was suitable.

Osric served himself before either of us could help.

He took too much mustard.

Bram opened his mouth.

Deborah kicked his ankle under the table.

The king tasted his supper and sat very straight.

"It's strong," he said.

"You've got enough for six sausages," I told him.

He looked down at his plate.

"Then I've planned badly."

I pushed the sausage dish toward him.

His smile made me glad I'd invited him.

That gladness didn't cancel the folded paper in his coat.

It was allowed to exist beside it.

"You owe us a story," Bram said.

Osric wiped his mouth before answering.

"There was a delegation from the northern packs last winter."

Deborah took a potato.

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