Book 3: Chapter 73 (1/2)
Alora stared at the utensils on the table in front of her. They were silver and had flowers engraved on their handles. With a snort, she swept aside the cutlery with the back of her hand, knocking the plate onto the ground as well. She leaned forward and grabbed the whole roast pig. As she sat back, the pig was dragged forward, leaving a greasy trail from the center of the table to the space in front of her. She ignored the stares from the surrounding people and chomped down on the back of the pig, spurting juices out from the sides of her mouth.
Thwack.
Alora yelped, dropping the piece of meat she tore off as her mouth shot open. A stinging pain stabbed into the back of her head, and she turned to glare at the culprit. Vur pointed at the fork and knife on the ground beside the shattered plate. “What did I say about table manners?”
Alora pursed her greasy lips. “Um, I don’t remember. Something, something Grimmy said something, something?”
Vur sighed. “When we’re around special humans, we have to act like them. And that means eating like they eat.”
“I don’t get it,” Alora said. “How come we only have to act this way around certain people and not others? What makes them special?”
“They’re special because Tafel said so.”
Alora turned her head towards the front of the dining room. Tafel was sitting next to Emile, Susan, and Mary, glaring at the two human-shaped dragons with a gaze that could turn lava to ice. Mary, on the other hand, was busy placing food onto Tafel’s plate, creating a small mountain of food that reached up to her chin. Alora blinked and turned back to Vur. “And how does she decide?”
Vur shrugged. “Most of the time, she declares royalty as special people. Nobles too but not all nobles. And not all royalty. And sometimes commoners but not always.”
Alora nodded twice. “It sounds like your wife can’t make up her mind.”
“Yup.” Vur grabbed a plate off the tray of a waitress who was walking by and placed it upside down on top of the roasted pig. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped the whole thing over so that the bottom of the plate made contact with the table.
Alora took another bite out of the pig, burying her face into its stomach as Vur turned around to grab utensils. She lifted her face just as he turned back around. “So,” she said before Vur could comment or hit her again, “why do we have to lower ourselves and act like humans around special people?”
“Eating like a dragon makes them uncomfortable,” Vur said and stabbed the knife and fork into the pig with a squelching sound that echoed through the room. Everyone turned to stare, but Vur didn’t notice or care. “They think you’ll eat them next, and that scares them.”
Alora tilted her head when she realized Vur wasn’t going to add anything else. “And? I’m not seeing the problem here.”
Vur snorted. “That’s because you’re too young to appreciate good food. Why do we ambush and kill our prey quickly when hunting?”
Alora blinked. “We what?”
“You don’t?”
“Should I be?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Alora scratched her nose, leaving a greasy smudge on her skin. “Oops?”