Whispers have been flying between the mouths and ears of the Forsaken all day, but I’ve done well to stay away from the talk. I’m as intrigued about the outsider as anyone, but don’t see much point in generating hushed theories behind cupped hands. It’s a waste of time considering I’ll be able to see the truth with my own eyes in a matter of minutes.
I’m the first one assigned to serve the outsider in his cell, which is typical. I’m beginning to think Frau Griselda wants me to die of a heart attack, but then she’ll be short a kitchen hand. She probably just wants a good, hard laugh at my expense.
I hate her.
“What do you think it’s like?” Felix asks as I stare into the darkness of the stairwell.
“I don’t want to think about it.”
I twist to face him and watch while he slaps mayonnaise onto a thick slice of bread. It strikes me how odd it is to have the entrance to the dungeon in the middle of the kitchen. But why not, I guess?
A couple of younger Forsaken take a few steps into the kitchen, but as soon as they spot Felix, they gasp and scurry off. He chuckles, but I can’t help feeling sorry for them. Felix is kind, especially for a Cherished, but we’re taught to stay invisible when his type are near.
“I’ve heard outsiders have five arms and are so dumb they’re practically drooling.” His words jar my thoughts away from the young ones. I stare as he brings his sandwich to his lips and takes a large bite. My mouth waters a bit as I haven’t eaten anything that looked that good in a while.
