Kire frowned, though she wasn’t sure, really, if she was angry, or upset, or humiliated at the admission, or a mix of all these. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but feelings don’t seem to be the most rational thing in the world,” she said, throwing her left arm up at the ceiling. But he conceded that any more talk from him—and, by extension, her—was going to erupt into another fight, and she clammed up, letting him talk, admittedly relieved for the reprieve. “Go back down to the infirmary. If she’s not there, she might be in her library. It’s right next to the infirmary. You can ask her or the attendants where the kitchen is.” [i]Flatbread?[/i] Was that a good sign? Or was he just preparing to let her down easy? 

The infirmary was empty save for some attendants and healers who were tidying up. Narda wasn’t there, having been given her own chambers to sleep in. Upon seeing him, the healers approached, telling him they had just been given orders to examine him, ready with ointments and ice wrapped in layers of cloth. At his question about the kitchens, they gave him directions to make his way back to the Great Hall and head to the leftmost hall from there. “You can ask someone when you get there if you get lost,” one of them reassured him.