The flat colors even in their home, which were the browns of wood furniture, stone fireplace, pale white porcelain, and so on, made such details stand out all the more. Cara saw Idelt turn his head and cough into one arm, and realized she was staring. She caught herself and tried to remember what he’d said.

Something about…

“Lord Lantal?”

The man nodded, eying Cara’s unique clothing, because her garb was the most colorful thing in this house bar none.

He wore the same level of clothing as his daughter—noticeable stitches, decent cotton, but nothing nearly as colorful as Cara’s clothing. His leather apron was pure, beautiful black, which was interesting; she would have assumed that it would cost something to dye clothing, but apparently it was cheap.

“Lord Lantal and Lady Risel rule Afiele. They deal with problems. Always have, always will.”

That apparently included Cara. And that was that. Somewhat miffed, the [Actress] sat back in her chair.

But she knew better than to overplay her hand.

“Miss Cara. Here’s food. You must be famished if you were wandering around for days. You must have been going in circles in the woods. They’re not that deep.”

“Well, I’ve always had a poor sense of direction.”

Cara chuckled. Violetta almost smiled; Cara saw the lips twitch. Idelt’s did not. He just drummed his fingers on the table, a wave from pinkie to forefinger, once, twice. Then he took the wooden bowls.

“Here. You caught it, and Violetta’s made it into stew.”

“Wh—”

The young woman realized what the meaty soup was and nearly recoiled. But the meat seemed cooked, and the broth was, if not completely fragrant, at least aromatic. The father seated himself, taking a place opposite his daughter. And they looked at her.

She had to do something. For a wild second, Cara was worried they’d pray or give some blessing, but then she remembered—according to Ser Dalius, the gods were dead. So Cara gingerly took a spoonful of broth and meat and sipped at it.

“Mm. Oh! It’s delicious!”

Violetta blinked with delight and smiled. Cara bit into the hot meat. True, it wasn’t seasoned well or much—it tasted like salt, pepper, and nature’s herbs were in it, nothing else. But hot, cooked food after so many days of mice chunks and roots made Cara ravenous. She scarfed down the bowl and nearly had a second before she caught herself.

“Help yourself. We’ve enough to go around. Violetta, where’s the bread knife?”

Idelt reassured Cara as he reached for a serrated blade. His daughter brought something over from the fire. Cara saw Idelt pulling out a large loaf of—

Bread? It went plonk onto the table. It was a thick flatbread, unleavened but big. She wasn’t about to complain about that. No, it was the color of the stuff that made her blink.