Drenil picked up a bowl he’d set to cool on the hardwood table. He crushed the contents with a pestle, and I was amused to smell chicken mixed with roasted grain. He stared into the fire, not looking at his handiwork. A scratching at the door roused him. “Let the dog in, will you?”
The queen’s pampered companion sauntered in, sniffing the air expectantly. I closed the door and resumed my favorite perch on Dren’s stool. I’d sat here at least once every day since I’d come to the castle, watching either my father or him brew up some special potion, purify a soft metal, or experiment with treats for the dog.
Notoriously fussy, this dog had learned that Dren always had something stewing for it to sample. It rarely ate offerings from anyone else, but Drenil had found some success. “I suppose y
