Seren nearly flipped a table.
Meanwhile, at a smaller round table off to the side, two people waved toward them.
Zayn squinted and tilted his head. "Wait, aren't those your party members?" he asked Ragnar.
The towering man glanced over and nodded. "Yeah. Darven and Mae. Good people."
"They weren't with us on the battlefield though."
Ragnar shrugged. "They were deployed to the nearby villages. Perimeter defense. If anything snuck into the town from the horde, they'd handle it."
"Ah. Makes sense," Zayn said, leaning back. "Fair."
He didn't push the topic.
Not because he didn't care — he just got distracted.
By food.
More specifically: a mountain of meat stacked high on a silver platter, carried by three women who smiled at him like he was some war hero crossed with a local idol.
"Please, dig in!" one of them said cheerfully.
Zayn stared at the towering stack.
It glistened.
It steamed.
It smelled like heaven's younger, hotter cousin.
