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“Fried chickpea cutlets," he said. "Oh." That sounded like a gift from heaven. "A salad, fresh cheese, and a hunk of warm bread." He stuck a piece of it under her nose. "Smell that." Her mouth watered at the aroma wafting from the buttered wheat. Esther's bread had as much in common with the bread of mourning as a loose rock on the side of the road with the jewel on the king's belt. Jadon poured a deep purple drink from a ewer into two cups. "Water with mulberry syrup." The fragrance of fried onions, saffron, and mint had her almost salivating like a teething baby. Sitting on the stool Jadon offered her, she bowed her head as he whispered a prayer. She had to grin when Jadon closed his eyes and groaned after tasting his first bite. He waved at the food. "Your turn." She broke off a small piece of the chickpea cutlet and made a morsel with a piece of bread, trying not to feel self-conscious under Jadon's intense scrutiny. A myriad of flavors mixed in perfect harmony and exploded on her tongue. "Oh." She pinched off another piece of the cutlet. Words were wasted on this meal. Her mouth was too busy tasting.” — Tessa Afshar