“Every window shows something different,” she noted. The phaedrealii had no windows, just frames where the illusions shifted at the Queen’s whim.
Josh pulled out a stool tucked under the kitchen counter and gestured for her to sit. “A good reminder that every day is something different.”
She stared at him curiously as she sat and let him ease her closer to the counter. “You are a philosopher too?”
He took a seat beside her. “Hardly. Most people would say nothing here changes, but that’s only because they’re so busy looking for something else, they don’t see what’s right in front of them.” His jaw tightened a moment as he stared out the window, then he slanted her a wry grin. “So there I go, philosophizing. It’s taken me about as far as a rocking horse on an oil slick.”
Their thighs bumped in the close quarters. From a skillet between them, he served up a fluffy mixture of egg, potato, sausage, and bright bell pepper bits. She recognized all the ingredients, but when the first forkful slid into her mouth, her eyes widened.
Apparently the tongue was not as easily fooled by illusion. She was halfway through her plate before she realized Josh was smiling at her.
“Your kind don’t eat enough, do they?”
She took another defiant bite before she answered. “Where I come from, a lot is different from here.” In the phaedrealii, every day was very much the same: food that sparkled—and tasted—like sand, views of nothing real, and the fear. Of course the fear.
He must have caught something in her expression because he put down his fork to brush her hair back from her face. “You’re here now, and you’re safe. Unless I recruit you to feed the chickens. The rooster is a cocky bastard.”
Adelyn leaned into his caress. “I think I can deal with one...rooster.” She gave him a slow smile.
He paused with his hand at her nape, then straightened her stool. “Finish your dinner like a good girl. I got dessert if you want it.”
She added a wicked slant to her lips. “I bet I know what it is. But it isn’t for good girls.”