“All I did was pile some things on a plate.” I sigh. “It’s not as if I grew the fruits out of my own arsehole.”

I expect her to recoil at the word, but Lady Tarroux just laughs, like a thousand little happy birds in a tree. “And it is also true that you are very funny!”

I flush red—hearing it from someone so straightforward is different than hearing it from the usual noble flatterers. “Just hurry up and eat before you faint.”

“Yes, thank you,” Tarroux agrees, tearing apart a piece of bread and offering me the other half. I shake my head with a wry smile.

“I’m a…picky eater. It’s all yours.”

She speaks around mouthfuls, an unexpectedly delightful breach of etiquette that reminds me so much of Crav, who could never stop talking with his mouth full.

“You said you’ve never prayed before today,” she says. “Are you not religious?”

“Not particularly,” I say warily, waiting for her admonishment. But it never comes. She just nods sagely.

“My father is like you. We’re originally from Helkyris. Religion is less of a priority there than polymathematics. But when I came of age here, I found Kavar’s light. His temple just called out to me. My father is a little disappointed in me, but he has my other sister, at least. She’s the smart one.”

“Don’t be modest. I’ve seen those hymn books in the temple,” I say. “You’ve gotta have at least a cupful of intelligence to memorize so many words. And it’s all Old Vetrisian, too.”

“Oh…” She goes a little red on her cheeks. “But I enjoy it so. It barely feels like effort.”

There’s quiet as she chases the bread with a gulp of water, picking up a grape and looking at it thoughtfully. She sings something soft and under her breath, the language like nothing I’ve heard before.

“Is that a hymn?” I ask.

Tarroux nods. “My favorite one. It’s very flowery, compared to the other hymns. It uses many metaphors, most of them about the natural world.” She repeats the lyrics in Old Vetrisian, speaking them more than singing now.

“What does that line mean?” I quirk a brow.

She smiles brilliantly. “It’s the main chorus. The priest told me it means ‘glory to the first tree and no others.’”

I stop fiddling with my dress hem. “The first tree?”

She nods. “The priest said it’s an old metaphor for Kavar.” She leans in and whispers conspiratorially. “One time I was looking for the song in the hymn library of the temple, and I found an old version from before the Sunless War. It talked about all manner of strange and wonderful things. But the priests don’t use that version anymore.”

I lean in. “Why not?”

“It mentions the— Well.” She frowns and whispers even softer. “The Old God.”