Chapter 67: Eat
"After he takes a bite."
Lucas didn’t move. He stood there smiling as he watched Ryker with the plate in his hands, the food still warm with steam rising and catching the light from the windows.
The dining hall felt smaller than it had a moment ago. Silence taking over the place completely. It was so silent that if someone dropped a spoon, they probably could hear it.
Ryker’s brows lifted in shock and confusion. "I’m sorry?"
"You heard me." Lucas pushed the plate towards him. "You eat first."
Lucas looked at the plate. Then he looked at Ryker. The memory of him dying to something that was probably caused by this food was still fresh enough that his fingers tightened on the rim of the plate.
’Whether or not something’s wrong with the food, however he reacts from now, would prove it.’
He thought this as he watched Ryker. The smile never leaving his face but something cold and calculating in his eyes.
A few heads turned at the nearest table. Mark, seated two chairs down, frowned and Eleanor went completely still. Further down the long table, one of the younger men had frozen with a piece of bread halfway to his mouth watching the scene with a horrified expression on his face.
Ryker gave a soft exhale that sat somewhere between being tired and amused. "Lucas," he said, "That’s unnecessary. The food is perfectly fine. I had the kitchen prepare it and even took it upon myself to bring it to you."
"Then you won’t mind taking a bite."
"I can’t do that."
’Really now?’ Lucas thought almost amused.
"Why not?"
Ryker’s smile remained on his face. "Because it would be disrespectful. Eating from another person’s plate is considered poor manners here. Especially when the meal was prepared specifically for them. It’s more of a matter of custom, you see."
Lucas tilted his head slightly. "I don’t mind."
"Even so—"
"I said I don’t mind." Lucas’s voice stayed even as he cut him off, something close to cold amusement had settled underneath it, "You take a bite. Then I’ll eat the rest. It’s simple, really. No customs broken if the person whose plate it is gives permission."
Lucas’ eyes drifted toward the others at the table. Mark looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. One of the older men further down had set his cup down, his lips moving as if saying a silent prayer. Eleanor’s gaze moved between Lucas and Ryker, sharp and bothered as if contemplating whether or not to interven.
"Lucas," Ryker said, his voice still light, "you’re making this into something it isn’t. There’s no need to put on a show. You’re tired. You seem unwell."
Lucas scoffed. "You think? Of course I’m tired. Who wouldn’t be? I’m just being careful, you know?"
Lucas stepped closer and set the plate down on the table between them. Then he sat down on the seat in front of it and pushed it towards Ryker.
"I’m asking you to eat from the plate you want me to eat from. Right there. One bite, just one. That’s all."
Ryker looked at the plate as he slowly became uncomfortable. "I already explained. It’s disrespectful."
"And I already told you I don’t care about that." Lucas rested his fingertips on the edge of the table, tapping it gently. His voice dropped as he looked Ryker directly in his eyes. "The only reason someone would refuse is if they put something in it they didn’t want to swallow themselves."
The air changed immediately. Conversations at the other tables had already died. A few people further away had stopped eating entirely and were watching without even bothering to pretend.
Mark rose from his chair, one hand lifted in a gesture that suggested he wanted them to take it easy. "Lucas, chill bro. Don’t you think you’re taking this a bit too far? I mean—"
"No, no." Lucas cut him off. "Too far? Hell no. I’m simply being rational. Stay out of this Mark." The words came out flat, a little amused even. And Mark froze, mouth still open, then slowly sat back down. He glanced toward Eleanor as if hoping she would intervene, but she remained silent, silent and watching...
Ryker’s smile finally thinned and disappeared. "You’re accusing me of poisoning your food."
"I never said that." Lucas replied with a smile, leaning onto the table with a hand rested on his chin. "But since you think that, I’m giving you a chance to prove you didn’t."
Ryker visibly flinched. Then he regained his composure and replied: "That’s a serious claim to make in front of everyone."
"Then clear it up." Lucas tapped the rim of the plate once with his knuckle. "Eat."
Ryker drew a slow breath through his nose. The polite look on his face was still there, but the mask was slowly starting to fade.
"I have no intention of entertaining this. You’re clearly not well. This is the last thing you need. You obviously don’t need a public confrontation over imaginary assumptions."
"Imaginary." Lucas repeated the word slowly. "You sure about that?"
"Quite sure."
"Then take the bite."
Ryker’s jaw tightened. "No."
Lucas’s voice dropped further, his smile widening. "Why?"
"Because I will not be ordered around like a servant in my own hall, in my own faction over a paranoid deduction. I have shown you nothing but hospitality. I have given you and your people food, shelter and protection. And this is how you repay it? By claiming I poisoned your food and demanding I prove my innocence over a plate of food."
He leaned forward, paying no attention to Ryker’s words. "Eat the food, Ryker."
Eleanor’s voice cut in. "Lucas..."
He didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on Ryker. His calm exterior slowly breaking.
Mark tried again, more carefully this time and in a lower tone. "Maybe we should all just step back and—"
"I said stay out of it." Lucas’s tone didn’t rise, but it carried a tone that showed that he wasn’t joking...
Ryker straightened, a frustrated exhale leaving his mouth. "You’re making a scene. People are watching. This is uncalled for."
"Good. Let them watch." Lucas nudged the plate an inch closer to Ryker with two fingers. "One bite. That’s all I’m asking. If the food is clean, you eat it and this ends. If you keep refusing, well, I think we all know what that means..."
"I already told you. It is disrespectful to—"
"Eat."
Ryker’s hands had curled into fists at his sides to the point his knuckles turned white. "You are not well, Lucas. Whatever illness or exhaustion is riding you has clearly begun to affect your judgment. I will not humor this any further. Eat or don’t eat, the choice is yours. But stop this."
"Then walk away." Lucas’s voice stayed level, almost in a taunting way. "Leave the plate. Leave the hall. But if you want me to put a single scrap of this in my mouth, you go first. That’s the only condition."
The silence stretched. No one at their table moved. The people further down had stopped pretending to eat and a few had turned fully in their seats.
Ryker looked at Eleanor, as if searching for some kind of support. She met his eyes without flinching, staying silent for several seconds.
"Eleanor," Ryker said, "Talk to him. This has gone far enough. He’s clearly unwell. Help me end this before it becomes something worse."
Eleanor’s gaze shifted to Lucas for a second. Then she replied.
"If you really didn’t do anything," she said, "then eat."
The words landed like a hit to his gut and the silence that followed was heavier than before.
Ryker’s face changed. The last of the polite mask cracked and his face contorted in anger
"You too?" he asked her
Eleanor didn’t answer. She simply watched him, waiting for his next move.
Lucas spoke after a scoff, his voice was steady. "Last chance. Take the bite."
Ryker’s eyes moved from Eleanor to Lucas to the plate and back again. The hall around them had gone almost completely still with people watching openly now, some standing, some leaning forward
"I will not," Ryker said.
"Why."
"Because I refuse to be treated like a criminal in front of my own people over the delusions of a sick man. I have done nothing wrong. I will not perform for your paranoia."
Lucas’s smile widened then he shrugged. "Then I guess we all know where we stand."
"Well, I’m still willing to give you a chance. If you eat and nothing happens to you, I’ll apologize and leave."
He reached out and nudged the plate toward Ryker one more time. The same meal that, in other loops, was probably what left him dying...
"Eat."
Ryker took a step back, hands shaking.
"Eat," Lucas said again.
"No."
"Eat."
Ryker’s hand moved and something materialised in his hands. Something that looked more like a sword.
He moved towards Lucas. "That," he said, pressing the blade onto his chest. "That is enough."
Lucas raised his hands up and smiled, his eyes narrowing, ’Bingo’