The Baron eyed me for several moments and then pushed off the table, rattling the remaining utensils. “There aren’t ni’meres in Archwood,” he said, nostrils flaring as he took a step back, nearly stepping in the food. “But there are some in Primvera. That is where they likely came from.” He stared down at the mess he’d created, pink spreading across his cheeks. “Either way,” he said, shoving the untucked tail of his shirt into his breeches. “Those ni’meres were obviously unhappy with something in that garden.”
More like unhappy with someone.
“Make sure that magistrate does his job,” he said to Hymel before stopping and coming back to where I sat. His throat bobbed as he stared down at me. “I’m sorry for losing my temper. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s not because I was angry with you.”
I said nothing, eyeing him warily.
He exhaled roughly. “I can retrieve a fresh plate of food for you.”
The Baron sounded like he was truly sorry. Not that it made his outburst justified. “It’s okay,” I said with a smile, because it had to be.
The Baron hesitated. “No, it’s— ” He stopped himself and took a deep breath. “I am sorry,” he repeated, and then he started toward the door, stopping to speak to Grady. “Can you make sure this is cleaned up?”
Grady nodded.
I rose as the door closed behind the Baron and his cousin, turning to the disaster on the floor.
“I got it,” Grady said roughly, approaching the table.
“It’s my food.” I knelt, beginning to retrieve the scattered slices of ham and cheese.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t help.” Grady knelt across from me, picking up the plate. “What a waste of good food.”
I nodded as I dropped a few of the pieces onto the plate he held, thinking there was a time when neither of us would’ve batted an eye at eating food that had fallen on the floor and been stepped on.
Finding a tomato, I cringed at the slimy dampness. “He’s in a mood, isn’t he?”
“Understatement of the year, Lis.” His jaw worked as he picked up the cup and set it on the table. “That wasn’t okay.”
“I know.” I briefly met his gaze. “He’s not my lover,” I reminded him.
“What is he to you? Your boss, who randomly gets far too friendly with you?”
“No, he’s my boss who pretends to be more than he is.” Probably wished he were, too— wished he felt more for me, that is.
“Still doesn’t make it okay.”
I nodded, scooping up the last piece of food, placing it on the plate as I rose. “But it’s not every day you have ni’meres swarming your gardens.”
Grady snorted. “Thank the gods.” He picked up a piece of bread. “I would’ve pissed myself if I had been out there, on the wall, and saw them coming.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.”
He pinned me with a stare, brows raised.
“Okay.” I laughed. “You would’ve done that and then fought them off.”
“No, I would have done that and then run, or pissed myself while running, which is the only sensible thing when faced with something like a ni’mere.”
Shaking my head, I picked up the last bit of food and dropped it on the plate Grady was holding. I started to rise when I noticed an angry, shiny reddish-brown patch of skin on Grady’s arm, just below his wrist. I reached for his hand, but caught myself. My gaze flew to his. “What happened to your arm?”
“What?” He glanced down. “Oh. It’s nothing. I was making a new blade and my hand slipped. Got too close to the heat.”
“Gods, Grady. That looks painful. Have you put anything on it?” Immediately, I started thinking of the different poultices that could be used. “I can— ”
“I already used the stuff you made last time. See?” He tilted his arm toward the light. “The sheen? It’s from the aloe stuff you made.”
“You need to use more than that.” I took the plate from him, placing it on the table. “And you should cover it when you’re outside, especially when you’re working in the shop.”
“Yes, Mother,” Grady replied dryly.
Eyeing his wound, I was reminded of something. “Have you talked to Claude about taking over for his blacksmith? Danil should be retiring soon, right? And with what happened to Jac . . .”
“I haven’t.” Grady turned away.