Imdalind 01 - Kiss of Fire

forward.
    “Wyn,” I pleaded.
    “Okay, they get stuck up on tradition, right? You have to address Ilyan in a certain way, bow to Ovailia in a certain way. You have to use the right verbiage in order to be properly understood,” she sighed.
    “Address Ilyan in a certain way,” I repeated in a whisper. My Lord. His Lordship. “So, Ilyan is like your ruler.”
    “King,” Wyn corrected. “King of four hundred people, yes, but still king.”
    My chest seized at the new information. Of course it made sense, but now I couldn’t stop worrying about how I had acted around him, and if I would get in trouble for it.
    “Considering they are the last of their kind, they take it very seriously. Well, everyone except Ilyan anyway,” Wyn said.
    “Does Ilyan not take his role seriously?”
    “Not really. You’ll see what I mean soon enough, though. Here we are.” Wyn turned me toward a door that had been painted a green so dark it was almost black. In the middle of the door were two handprints, one small and bright purple, the other large and dark red. She smiled before pulling me into the brightly decorated apartment.
    I couldn’t help but smile, too; the room was so Wyn, it was infectious. The bright bubbly colors made the last of my anxiety evaporate. A large king bed covered with a squishy leopard-print comforter occupied most of the space. The bed had an intricately carved footboard, but instead of a headboard a gigantic Styx poster covered the light, yellow wall. Wyn guided me to an oversized, upholstered, purple chair that sat in front of the window that overlooked the courtyard.
    “Food,” she chanted and bounced away to a half-sized refrigerator that sat next to the bathroom door.
    “I like your room.”
    She turned and smiled at me.
    “It’s so bright and fun,” I said.
    “Thanks! It’s probably a little too much, but out of all the time periods I have seen, I could live in the ‘70s and ‘80s forever.” She sighed as if caught in a silly memory and turned back to the fridge.
    I couldn’t help but laugh. I wasn’t even alive in the ‘80s but from what I had seen it probably wasn’t a time that I would have wanted to have participated in anyway.
    “I probably don’t have much that’s edible for you.” Wyn had buried her head in the fridge, her voice coming back to me muffled. “Talon doesn’t keep this thing very well stocked when I am gone.” Her head emerged from within the tiny fridge, her arms laden with a few things.
    “Talon? Do you share a room or something?” I had almost forgotten about Wyn’s boyfriend.
    “Uhhh… yeah… I’m over 200 years old, remember? I like to sleep with my husband as much as anyone.”
    My jaw dropped just as Wyn giggled and looked down. She was so much like a bubbly teenager; it was hard to think of her as quite literally old and, I guess, married.
    “So,” she placed the containers on the table next to me. “We have Maso, which is kind of a casserole made with berries, and lentils. This is Listy which is a leaf stew made with root vegetables. Or I found some cheese that I think Delia made a few months ago.”
    “Leaf stew?” I asked, poking at the containers. My stomach flipped. I hoped better food appeared soon; I didn’t think I could live on leaf stew and lentils for very long.
    “I made the same face about the food you eat, too,” she said. “We are all vegetarians and most of our food dates back before even Ilyan was born, when all the Earth were hunter/gatherers.” She shoved one of the smaller containers at me with a grimace. “Try the Listy; its closer to what you would normally eat, so you might like it.”
    I looked down at the contents of what Wyn had just handed me, and bile rose in my throat. It looked like someone had shredded the branch of a tree and boiled it with leaves, carrots, potatoes, and tomatoes. Wyn was already chowing down on some purple goo. I could already tell this would take some getting used to.

    Twenty-Two

    The Listy didn’t taste as bad as it looked. As long as I didn’t look at what I put in my mouth, I could almost imagine it as a really thick meat stew. I didn’t know how long I could last eating leaves and carrots though. As much as I loved a good vegetable, I missed meat already and I was only one meal in.
    Wyn finished two containers of food in the time it took me to finish my one. The entire time, she talked about how much she had missed normal food. I let her babble; the majority of what