CHAPTER 8
A delicious aroma wafted up from the white-skirted table. Violet’s stomach rumbled. She dipped her spoon in the soup and took a sip. Mutton and vegetables with a heavy dose of spice danced on her tongue.
She tore off a chunk of bread with her teeth and immediately regretted it. Her stomach clenched.
“It’s a bit early for soup, isn’t it?” Bilbrey, now dressed in a pair of trousers and a plain white shirt instead of a uniform, dropped into a seat across from Violet.
She frowned. In the light of day, he looked even younger than before. “I wanted something simple,” she said. “I had a rough day yesterday, remember? I still feel strange.”
“No wonder,” Bilbrey replied. “Are you holding up well enough under the circumstances? Far from home with no support, you must be just terrified
