Aranhil sat at the table, unsurprised that his wife had not shown up. [i]She would fight like an elf. A quick strike, then run and hide.[/i] He thought to himself. [i]That's how elves have always fought. Why would she be any difference? Strike hard and fast, then flee. She forgets how a dragon fights. I won't be cruel to her, though. She is my wife, I will not be fighting with her. She'll see that her little jabs and insults can not hurt me.[/i]

Satisfied that he was being the more mature of the two, the dragon prince focused on his meal. She would come to see that he was right sooner or later. The longer she wanted to isolate herself, the longer she could spend acting like a child. That was all on her. He ate his meal in peace, unconcerned by the gossip the maids were determined to spread. He realized part way though the meal, which today was braised rabbit, that perhaps it was good his wife had not attended. He was sure she would be quite upset to see one of Hoppy's relatives on her plate.

Aranhil got to his feet when he finished. Entering the kitchen, he grabbed a small basket. He put into it a piece of kale, some dandelion, and a few handfuls of whatever was growing in the lawn. Then he gathered a plate with last night's leftovers. They'd had venison last night, which he felt was safer to offer to his wife. Rather than sending a made, he himself went to her room and knocked. "Sylvia, open up. I brought dinner."