"Is it too much for you?" He asked. "Being outside? We can dine indoors, if you prefer."
Cera shook her head, the motion causing the colors around her to blend and swirl.
"It's better out here," she told him. The colors were strange, and she'd never found bugs to be quite so captivating, but at least nothing was turning into a snake or a dragon.
Cera loved gardens. There had once been a large garden on the grounds of her father's castle. Some of her fondest memories with her sister took place there. The sound of Rimera's voice seemed inexorably tied to the vibrant purple of the lavender bushes and the taste of honeysuckle nectar.
For Cera, the main feature of the garden had been a swing, a plank of wood tethered to a tree by two thick ropes. It had been the one bright spot of her childhood, until she'd taken a fall while Rimera had been pushing her. Her arm had been dislocated, which had prompted her father to have the swing cut down and both girls banned from the garden.
Her sister had been furious, as she so often was about everything. She'd attempted to recreate the garden in Cera's closet, even sneaking out to bring in uprooted flowers and cuttings of bushes. But it was shortly after that, that Rimera had been sold off to Kyta. Cera had tried her best to keep the plants alive, but in the end, they'd languished in the darkness.
The garden at the center of the elven citadel was really a collection of gardens, each with a different function. According to what Maewyn had told her on the way down, the garden they were in now was one of the many small clusters around the outer ring, ideal locations for meetings with limited privacy and taking meals. Their dining space featured a single small table with four chairs and was surrounded by young trees with drooping canopies and flowered bushes. A cobblestone walkway wound through the area, one path leading toward the castle and the other leading deeper into the gardens.
Cera was just about to inquire after the food when a man arrived with a large silver tray. He was presumably a servant, but Cera still couldn't tell the difference. All of the elves dressed in such finery, their hair meticulously coiffed or braided, it was difficult to discern their rankings. Although this one was clearly tasked with serving their food, he wore several bands on his fingers, one of them gold. Never in her life had Cera seen a servant wearing gold.
Surprised as she was, the servant was visibly startled at the sight of Cera. When his dark eyes fell on her they widened, and he subsequently tripped on an upturned stone. He recovered quickly and gracefully, the contents of the tray hardly making a sound as he regained his footing.
"Apologies, mir aesolin," he said as he set the tray down on the table. He glanced at Cera again, added a quick, "Mir solina," and then bowed his head. Isael dismissed him with an upwards nod.
Cera started to puzzle over the servant's reaction and how he'd addressed her, but her attention was quickly diverted to the tray of food.
Back home, Cera had typically dined in her room, her food served in two courses brought to her on one tray. The first was a light course, usually consisting of blanched vegetables or a soup, which was then followed by the main course, sausages in the morning and game meat in the evening.
A handful of times she had dined in the main hall at her father's table, usually when he wanted to put her on display for guests. There, she was served three different courses and could also select cuts of meat, cheeses, and exotic fruits from the platters on the table. The best part was the little cake she was served at the end, a welcome consolation after hours of enduring the company of her father and his guests.
Cera hadn't known what to make of the platter in her room the night before. It had seemed haphazard to her, with so many different plates of random foods clustered together, as if the chef were attempting to discern her tastes. The meal in front of her now was even more chaotic, and shelovedit.
There were no individual plates clearly meant for her or Isael. Instead, the entire meal had been arrayed on a single tray, all of the different foods overlapping in a manner that should have looked careless, yet had a strange, beautiful order to it.
Prominently displayed on the tray were four different bowls, each containing a thick puree that was embellished with either jam or nuts. Around the bowls, assorted fruits were arranged. Larger fruits like apples and pears were sliced, while berries rested in vibrantly colored clusters. Around the fruits were sliced vegetables, some of them familiar to her like peppers, radishes, and pea pods, others so foreign that she couldn't be sure they weren't fruits. Toward the edges of the tray were several loafs of cut bread, all of them different colors and styles.
Cera didn't know where to begin, but her hands were not debilitated by her indecision. She went straight for the raspberries, pausing only briefly to savor the taste of fresh fruit before following it up with a thick slice of warm bread. Once she'd sampled a few of the more familiar foods, she tentatively dipped a cucumber slice into one of the purees. It tasted like some sort of mashed root vegetable or bean, and the flavor was surprisingly inoffensive.
"It all tastes so good," Cera said during a rare moment when her mouth wasn't full. "Though I do wish there was some sort of meat."
Isael was also eating, though with far less gusto than Cera. He took a sip of water, clearing his mouth before responding.
"As do I."
Cera's brows shot up. "I thought elves didn't eat meat."
"It's a tradition of the lowland elves," he explained, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a cloth. "In the lowlands, food has always been abundant. The land is arable and the forests are full of things to forage. But in the north, the highlands such as Ishvalier and Medindir, we didn't have such luxuries. Hunting was always a central part of our culture."
"Is elven hunting different than human hunting? Do you use magic instead of dogs?"
Her father had been fond of hunting. Although his men praised his hunting prowess, she'd always suspected that his hounds did most of the work.
"No," Isael said. "Learning to hunt without the use of magic was considered a rite of passage. We hunted with only a bow, a knife, and our instincts."
"But you don't hunt anymore?"
"Not in quite some time. The last hunt was during a visit of the Medindir elves, a long time ago. We hunted four winter stags from the valley forest and it caused quite an uproar in the city. We ended up having to give the stags a ceremonial burial."
Cera covered her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her amusement. Isael's eyes were bright with humor.
He said, "Eggs are the closest you'll find to meat in Viranhildr. Most of the locals don't mind consuming them." Casting her a conspiratorial look, he added, "It's easy enough to get a duck or pheasant cooked, if you know which chefs to bribe. I'll have one prepared for you in a few days."
Now, Cera couldn't hide her laughter. The image of the high lord bribing one of his own chefs to pluck and roast a duck was too bizarre.