“I’ll be eating dinner in the forge tomorrow,” I said. “They won’t have to deal with a filthy, mannerless human breaching Cahlish etiquette.” “You’ll be eating here,” Fisher corrected. “I don’t get a say in the matter?” “You’ll poison yourself if you eat in the forge.” “In my room, then.” “You’ll be eating here,” Fisher repeated. He continued before I could suggest any of the other one million places I’d rather take my meals. “As for the fire sprites, they like humans. Far more than they like the Fae.”
