When he enters the parlor, Therios is not on the chaise to greet him with a sneer. Vanth remains in the doorway, heart pounding, eyes tracking along the room, looking for a clue. Did the man escape? Was he lying in wait somewhere, ready to spring out in ambush?

“Come on, you little weed, keep up.”

Vanth sets the tray aside and takes a few steps in to view the windows, where Therios sits in one of the cushioned sills, trailing his fingers over the glass. On the other side of the pane, a flower attempts to follow the path of his fingers. It’s like a game of tag, if one played tag where the two parties never touched. Something warm burns in Vanth’s chest, like he just drank some hot mead.

“Ah, you got me!” Therios roars dramatically.

The flower giggles. Possibly a Blushing Belladonna, for all their shyness they’re outrageous flirts. Vanth folds his arms.

“I see you’ve charmed my flowers as well as my crockery.”

Therios turns from the window, giving Vanth an unobstructed view of his furred torso. Like a blanket. Soft enough to sleep on, really. Vanth hurries those thoughts away. Honestly!

“So, the prison warden has deigned to drop by.”

Vanth ignores the comment and instead pushes the tray over.

“You can walk on your own now, I see.”

“Could walk out of here, except you won’t let me,” Therios smiles at him beatifically.

Vanth busies himself by pulling the covers off the dishes.

“It looks like you’ve got a stew today.”

“Just a stew? I did tell the dishes I was hoping for a roast, maybe some biscuits or a melon tart.”

“Stew,” Vanth says firmly.

Therios delicately tastes it.

“Not bad, could use some more pepper, and the broth is a little thin.”

The spoon trembles in his grasp and the bowl shifts awkwardly.

“Oh, honestly,” Vanth takes the spoon, tries the stew, and says, “It’s fine. Stop fretting. He’s just winding you up.”

Therios laughs. Vanth startles, dribbling soup all over himself. He’s going to have to wash his beard now, there’s carrot pieces caught in it.

“I was wondering when you’d cotton on. If I’m going to be stuck here, might as well get good food out of it, right?”

“Right,” Vanth says, not entirely sure what he’s agreeing with. Therios beams at him.

“Mind if I have my spoon back?”

“Right,” Vanth squeaks again and drops the spoon. It hits the stew with a loud splash and coats them both in a fine spray of broth. Therios laughs again, the strength of the sound startling the dust from the rafters. Does he always laugh like that: loud and often, like every small thing is a delight?

“Next time bring two spoons and you won’t have to steal mine,” Therios says.

He takes a hearty helping of the stew and proceeds to finish it off quickly, mindful of stretching his injury.

“Could I inspect the burn, after?”

“You’re awfully keen to keep me alive. I’m sure things would be easier for you if I were dead.”

“Things would be easier for me if you stopped stirring up my servants.”

“They’re an interesting bunch, did you spell them yourself?”

“I made Knight on purpose, and have found that the longer I’m here, the more the castle comes alive. Must be the residual magic from all the spells I’ve cast on this place.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. A hundred years. A thousand years. What does it matter?”

“You’re all alone?”

“I’m not. I have my flowers, Knight, and the dishes and things. They keep me company.”

Therios raises one eyebrow, possibly judgmental, but it’s also possible Vanth is just projecting. His palms itch. He wishes he had something to do with his hands.

“So why do you live out here? I’m guessing it’s something to do with your general hatred of humanity?”

“I don’t hate humanity,” Vanth says, surprised, “it’s the other way around, really. Humanity hates me.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Vanth decides to eat the bread. It’s not like he can’t get Therios more. The oven had baked enough bread to open a bakery.

“Ah, I see,” Therios says, “That’s a Forbidden Question. Well, then, what do you do around the castle all day? I’m about bored to tears here.”

“I garden.”

“Aye, I can see that. Cheeky little buggers, your flowers. You’ll have to introduce me properly once I’m on my feet again.”

Therios waves at the window. The belladonnas wave back. Vanth fails spectacularly in suppressing his smile.

“What about music? Surely you have a lute or something?”

“No instruments to speak of.”

“Anything to read then? Most castles boast grand libraries, don’t they?”

“Ah, no, not this one.”

Therios dramatically sags against the chaise, “What am I to do then if you won’t let me return to my city to defend it from certain ruin?”

Vanth smooshes his thumb into the last chunk of bread.

“I do have some books. Six, to be exact. I’ve read them all thousands of times, I could practically recite them by memory. But you’re welcome to them.”

“I am awfully tired. Might be better for you to read them to me, since you know them by heart and all.”

Vanth gapes at him, at the sheer cheek, but before he can form a satisfyingly scathing response, the parlor door opens and Knight trots in, covered in what looks like the rest of the stew, his elbow coated in fruit jelly, and his helm smeared with sugar paste.

“An excellent idea!” Knight says, “Here my lord, the books.”

In his arms, he carries the six books to Vanth’s name, proving he was listening the entire time. What a sneak. He dumps them down on the tray.

“Thank you, my faithful servant,” Vanth grits his teeth.

“Very good, very good,” Knight practically chirps as he backs out of the room.

“Get cleaned up,” Vanth tells his retreating figure, “and as for the rest of you: stop eavesdropping!”

There’s the clatter of silverware as the dishes and spoons spying along the corridor hastily scramble back to the kitchen. Vanth turns back to Therios, whose eyes twinkle knowingly, and Vanth resists the urge to chuck one of the books at his head. Honestly, the entire castle has gone mad.