A day had passed during Amari’s capture or as Vincent and Fenn seemed to put it, ‘saving her’. She was restless. She promised Fenn she’d play nice, if she hadn’t she probably would have rendered half the staff unconscious and found her own way out of the damn castle. Even if she had to walk back to Salvar herself. Amari assumed she was near a Raiaeran port from Vincents words. It was a good weeks travel to Salvar from where she was. Possibly more considering half the region was scarred with fetid plaguelands.

“This isn’t going to end well…” Amari muttered to herself as she rummaged through the cupboards for a pot. She had been given free reign of the kitchen. At least it gave her something to do. Amari spent the morning making her own pasta. She had to give it to Vincent, his kitchen was stocked just as well as her family one back in Salvar, she wished the Inner Sanctum matched the quality of this - but, despite her love of cooking it was no longer something she could so simply indulge in.

Amari filled the pot with water, added a pinch of salt and set it to boil before she began to crush up peppercorns with a mortar and pestle. As she busied herself one of the workers, a maid she assumed wandered in to check on her.

“I see you’re cooking again.” Her voice was filled with a sort of trepidation. Rumours of Amari’s violent and aggressive nature had spread throughout the stronghold. “Mmm.” Amari didn’t bother to turn and glance at the blonde haired lass. “I’m still here.”

“Well...obviously…” She muttered under her breath.

Amari smirked, “Careful, Mary. Haven’t you heard? I may just rip your skin off.”

Mary hesitated before taking a seat. Watching as Amari dropped the pasta into the cooking pot. “Yes. I’ve heard, and I do worry, but I don’t think you’d be so foolish as to do so.”

“Mmm. True…” Amari murmured, scooping out the pasta once it hit Al Dente, she grabbed a measuring cup and ladled 250ml of the pasta water into it. She made quick work of draining the pasta pot of the remaining water, before tossing the still dripping pasta back into the pot. She switched the heat to low and tossed in grated pecorino, a lovely cheese she found and was the reason for the dish, crushed peppercorns, cream butter, chopped parsley and a touch more salt. Every time she noted the pasta began to dry slightly she’d pour in a touch more of the reserved water.

“You’re very adept at cooking.”

“I’m also very adept at killing.” Amari’s sentence seemed to quieten Mary. Amari tossed the pasta into two bowls. “Here.”

“W-what is this?”

“Pecorino cheese pasta. Is good. Eat it.” Amari commanded as she sat down with her own bowl.