‘That pudding helping your stomach at all?’

Sedric looked up suddenly, and regretted it. Vertigo rocked him briefly and then cleared. ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ The hunter sat down across from him and kept looking at him. Those black eyes locked with his own, as if they wished to see inside Sedric’s head. He looked down at his bowl and forced himself to take another mouthful of the stuff. It was helping his stomach, but he didn’t enjoy the experience of eating it. He glanced up again at the watchful hunter. ‘Thank you for your help. I don’t mean to keep you from your duties. I’m sure I’ll be fine now. As you say, it was probably something I drank or ate. So you needn’t bother about me.’

‘It’s no bother.’

Again the man waited, as if there was something he expected Sedric to say. He was at a loss. He looked down at his ‘food’ again. ‘I’m fine, then. Thank you.’

And still the man lingered, but now Sedric refused to look up from his bowl. He ate steadily in small bites, trying to seem as if it demanded all his attention. The hunter’s attention flustered him. When he rose from his seat across the table, Sedric repressed a sigh of relief. As Carson passed behind Sedric, he put a heavy hand on his shoulder and leaned down to speak right next to his ear. ‘We should talk some time,’ he said quietly. ‘I suspect we have far more in common than you know. Perhaps we should trust one another.’

He knows. The thought sliced through Sedric’s aplomb and he nearly choked on his mouthful of sodden bread. ‘Perhaps,’ he managed to say, and felt the grip on his shoulder tighten briefly. The hunter chuckled as he lifted his hand and left the deckhouse. As the door shut firmly behind him, Sedric pushed the bowl away and cradled his head on his arms. Now what? He asked the enclosed darkness. Now what?