I’m pretty sure I can get this published by the end of next weekend so here’s a snippet to hold you over ’til then.
“Where’d you learn to cook?” I asked Havoc a little later as I spread strawberry jam on my third piece of toast.
“I’ve been picking it up as I go along,” he said modestly, leaving the table to fill his cup from a dark blue teapot with a chipped spout. “But I used to do all the cooking back in the day.”
“You mean back in the thirteenth century?”
“That’s right,” he answered, his pale green eyes glinting as he slid back into the chair beside me. “I was a proper medieval marvel in the kitchen.”
“Did they even have kitchens back then?”
“Sort of,” he said. “We had spits, of course, and pothooks or tripods to hang pots over the fire. And sometimes there was a small box built into the side of the fireplace that got hot enough for baking.”
“What were your specialties?” I asked and took a sip from my cup of tea.
“Badger Bourguignon,” he answered lightly. “Hedgehog pie.”
“Hedgehog pie?” I laughed out loud and almost spewed my tea over the table.
“Very convenient meal,” he said with a grin. “You never have to look far for a toothpick.”