The Picky Eater
She took her time wandering up and settling into the chair.
"Princess Airie."
The innkeeper spoke nervously. His face looked relieved when the prince looked her over. "Shall I serve you your supper as well, your Highness?"
Donncahd waved the man away. "Serve her the same thing as me. She is not a picky eater."
And how would he know if she was picky or not?! UGH.
She sighed and bit her lip. He wasn't even being rude, exactly...it was just. Annoying, that's all.
"I would love a hot stew, please, and any sweet or tangy juice you might have to offer," Rache said.
...She wasn't picky.
But.
She was still going to talk over the prince about what she wanted, because...
Because...! He...He wasn't her dad, dammit!
The innkeeper startled and looked between the both of the, like a puppy who didn't know which master to listen to.
That's sort of what he reminded her of.