Torran had said he’d dismissed most of his staff, and other than the people who had delivered the supply crates to our rooms earlier, I hadn’t seen a single person during my snooping. But if nothing else worked, I’d yell until someone came to see what the commotion was about.

I entered the kitchen and went straight to the butler’s pantry around the corner, where I’d found the refrigerator. I pulled out my box of groceries and looked through it. A veggie soup would be nice with the crispness in the air. And it would keep, so people could eat whenever they got hungry.

Hopefully Torran had some sort of veggie stock and lentils or beans or potatoes—even rice or pasta would work. I just needed something filling.

Opening the nearby cabinets yielded a big pot, so I was on my way. Across from the fridge, an unmarked door opened to a giant walk-in pantry. The shelves were filled with cans and boxes with Valovan labels, as well as bins of flours, grains, and other produce. I could guess what some of them might be, but most were unfamiliar. And while I doubted Torran had poison in his pantry, making an incorrect guess could make dinner inedible.

I was about to give up and ask for help when a box with a Common label caught my eye. A multitude of items crowded the narrow shelf, most of them the same brands I’d bought on Bastion. The bins underneath were carefully labeled in Common as well, with everything I needed to cook my usual meals.

Either Torran kept highly expensive imported food around on a regular basis—and he just happened to eat vegetarian and preferred the same brands that I did—or he’d ordered extra food especially for us to use while we were here.

The fastest way to earn my trust was to take care of my people, and by providing food, Torran had done exactly that. He might be a master strategist, but this didn’t feel calculated. It felt personal.

It felt kind.

And strategy or kindness, it was working. As much as I tried to shore up my defenses against him, he kept knocking them down.

I grabbed all of the ingredients I needed and made my way into the kitchen proper. I poked around until I turned up a cutting board and knife, then got busy with prep. Chopping had a soothing kind of rhythm to it, and I let my mind drift.

Luna, who always had a nose for dinner, even in its early stages, came and sat next to her empty food bowl. When that didn’t get the result she wanted, she chirruped at me and sent me a picture of said empty bowl, just in case I didn’t realize it was empty.