Son of a slave

"Can we eat now?" said Woods, who couldn’t seem to care less about the contents of his cup. "I’ve been hungry for ages, so it was torture cooking all this up with Mrs. Lawson hovering over my shoulder." When Zech made a snide remark, Woods said, "What? She doesn’t let me pick at the food while I cook. Do you know how weird it is to get beaten by someone else’s mother?"

"He said, motherless."

"Shut up, Jaden. You’re an orphan, too."

"Just eat if you want to," said Anice, who was already munching on a roasted chicken leg. "Hey, this gravy is delicious, Woods. Maybe I can convince my papa to let you cook for us."

As the big-bellied boy’s rounded cheeks began to redden, the others at the table rushed to dig into their food with gusto, even Corrie tackling a larger helping than usual.

Alistar found his appetite after a few cups of ale. After helping himself to a forth plate, he couldn’t help but agree with Anice’s idea of asking Caedmon to consider hiring Woods to work in the estate’s kitchens. The portly boy had been working very hard in recent months, a change in temperament that likely came about from seeing the results of his friends’ labours.

"How you boys eat so much, I’ll never know," sighed Lessa, who subconsciously wiped a bit of grease off of Alistar’s cheek with a cloth napkin. "At least pace yourselves."

"Are you talking to everyone," smiled Alistar, "or to me?"

"She’s right," said Lily, whose eyes were glued to the healthy plate that Jaden had just fixed for himself. "I know you’re eager to spend your earnings, but isn’t five helpings a little much? You’re going to upset your stomach."