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I raise a brow. “Like what?”
“Like when we went to the lake?” the hunter prompts. “I mentioned that the land spoke to you when you pointed out the bugs, but I didn’t understand why. Isolde told me she knew, and then she told me she wouldn’t tell me. I asked the guys, and Ecaeris thought you were a fisherman.”
“I love fishing,” I murmur, though that’s clearly not the point he’s trying to make.
Ecaeris nods thoughtfully as he recalls the conversation. “The land speaks to you, but you’re not a hunter. What are you?”
“A goddess,” Connak obnoxiously answers.
“Can we just eat?” I beg them. “I can’t even pretend to enjoy my meal while you two are discussing my fate and how it’s tied to the world. It doesn’t change anything between us. There’s just more responsibility for me that I haven’t quite comprehended yet.”
“What else is there to talk about?” Ecaeris inquires, haughty as he peeks over the rim of his glass.
“Literally anything.” I point at the wall. “How do you make paint? Is the weather always the same? Are there three-headed deer or killer wasps? Oh, how about that purple otter?”
Connak scrunches his nose. “Why? Otters come in other colors on Earth?”
“Yeah.” I scoff. “Brown.”
“That’s boring,” he says quietly.
“I know,” I agree. “Let’s talk about that.”
Connak sighs like I’m killing his jovial mood. “Purple otters are so normal. But eating breakfast with a goddess and knowing you’re her favorite Mongrel... That’s new and entertaining.”
I twist in my chair and hold up two fingers. “One: you sound like Isolde. Two: Rinya is my favorite.”
“Aww, Ada,” the hunter coos, twirling a strand of my hair around his index finger. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
Ecaeris chuckles. “I wouldn’t call her entertaining.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but before I can reply, Isolde’s husbands lumber into the dining room, dragging their feet as they come to the table. They look exhausted, like they’ve been up all night, poring over ancient tomes and texts to unravel the world’s secrets.
“Just getting in?” Ecaeris casually asks them. “It’s a little late.”
“What time is it?” I whisper to Connak.
I have yet to find a single clock in this palace or the village, and I’m beginning to think I simply don’t know what I’m looking for… Which would make too much sense. They probably have sundials and water clocks.
He shrugs. “Morning?”
“Long night at the tavern,” Kerr responds as he drops into the chair across from me.
Zivol watches the three of us as he ruffles his bright red hair. “Should you two be sitting so close?”
Noctis scoffs. “Let them fight, brother. We could host another great battle in the Colosseum. Call it the Royal Tussle of the century.”
“You’re charming when you’re tired,” I snark with a grin.
He blinks at me, not sure how to reply at first, but then he drawls, “I’m always charming.”
I turn to Ecaeris. “The similarities are uncanny.”
“No,” he responds. “I got my sense of humor from Noctis, not—”
“That’s what we’re calling it?” Kerr asks through his laughter. “Humor?”
