Several plates of breakfast covered the table.
There were eggs, vegetables, meat, and fresh juice. The tavern's proprietress had prepared enough food to feed several people. All for one person, of course—her sweet magpie.
Adam had already emptied half a dozen plates, yet more kept coming from the kitchen.
As he ate, Ira sat across from him, sipping tea. Her gaze occasionally drifted toward the scars exposed on his body. The most prominent was the long scar running across his forehead.
When she found him last night, he had been beyond recognition. Drenched in blood, his injuries were so brutal that they made one question whether he was even alive. Ira truly thought she would have lost him. But the boy's life force was unbelievable.
Adam ignored her and continued eating like a man who had starved for years. His body needed energy, and he intended to replenish it as quickly as possible.
From time to time, however, his gaze drifted toward the floor of the main hall.
