RISING (#2, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 13

I automatically went for my spoon tucked into my belt to smack him for his vulgarity. But...my fingers grasped nothing. Mr. Whiskers had snapped my spoon in half. Godsdammit!

Oswin, his back still to Chef, raised both hands in mock surrender. "Got it, Chef."

Chef Markel glared a moment longer before turning back to his sous-chef, flames burning beneath his frying pan as he quickly shook it, tossing the julienned vegetables to keep them from burning.

Oswin leaned his hip against the curved edge of the countertop. "Need help?"

"No, we've got this," Beckah replied, slamming the cupboard door shut.

"Oh." Disappointment and confusion briefly flitted across his face. "Really?"

I rolled my eyes. It was so obvious he had a crush on Beckah's sister, Dolcie. Every morning he wandered in, asking if we needed help carrying the trays out to wherever my aunt had set up for the day.

"Oswin," Beckah said, turning to face him fully. I couldn't see her expression but her tone was disparaging and slightly annoyed. "I don't know what you even see in her?"

Oswin's broad and flat-planed cheeks rounded as he screwed his face up. "She's your sister."

"Exactly," Beckah shot back, drumming her fingertips on the nicked surface of the wood. "I know what she's like."

While Oswin and Beckah bickered over Dolcie while finishing off filling the pitchers with orange juice, Chef Markel ambled over. He was a big, burly man with deep brown skin and shortly cropped black hair tipped with silver. His rich brown eyes regarded Oswin shrewdly, which Oswin pretended not to notice. But the tension in his shoulders and the way he minutely adjusted himself so he was slightly turned aside gave him away. Chef had a nasty bark, but beneath it all, though he didn't like anyone to know, was a soft cuddly teddy bear. But no one dared cross him. He'd been known to put members of his team on dicing onions for a full day for straying from his recipes by an accidentally incorrect measurement.

I had purposely left some space next to the bran mini-muffins because I knew what was coming. Chef placed a large chocolate-frosted cupcake with candied mandarin, walnuts, and chocolate bits onto the tray. "For your aunt."

"Ah-huh," I said, with a knowing smile.

"She prefers those," he said. His fingers, mapped with old knife scars and burns, tapped the edge of the plate.

"Her favorite." I turned around to face him. "Thank goodness, she has you to look out for her sweet tooth." I stole a slice of apple and popped it into my mouth, relishing the burst of juice, and grinned.

His full lips twitched, and there was amusement in his gaze, but he didn't answer about my aunt. Instead, he said, "I have no idea where those scatter-brained Purcell sisters are. Can you come back after your break and serve Marissa and her guests morning tea?"

"Sure," I said breezily. I hadn't caught up with Marissa today, not that I thought we would be able to with her entertaining, but maybe we could steal a minute or two.

But first, while I was here, I needed something. I pulled the utensils drawer open and the noisy sound of clattering metal and wood filled the room as I rifled through, trying to find what I was looking for. My fingers latched around smooth wood and it felt like coming home. I pulled out a new long-handled wooden spoon and brandished it in the air like a sword. Glorious!

Chef Markel shot me a curious look.

"I had an accident," I replied in way of answer. In the form of a jerk, who'd better think twice if he dared think he could snap this one too.