Dragons of Asgard 3 by Logan Jacobs (thriller novels to read txt) 📕

I did.” Ramir smiled, and the skin around his eyes crinkled with delight. “Preyna has made a lovely sorceress, though, they were right to train her for the job.”

“Yes, she’s very talented.” Asta nodded.

I smiled to myself as I cut up some squash and put it into the pot Ramir had prepared. I had no idea what the old man was making based on the ingredients on the table, but he was a great cook, so I wasn’t about to question him on the recipe.

I did have one other question for him, though.

“Ramir,” I said. “I’m wondering something.”

“Yes?” the old man asked, and he raised a big bushy eyebrow at me.

“How are you such an excellent cook, but Kas has to put spells on her food?” I asked with a laugh.

“Hey!” the strawberry-blonde chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think Rath means it’s odd you can’t cook considering how well your father is able to cook,” Asta explained in her sweet high-pitched voice.

“Thank you, Asta,” Kas said dryly.

“You’re welcome.” The white-haired elf girl smiled and shrugged.

“I’m not sure I have a good answer for that,” Ramir laughed. “I’ve often wondered the same thing.”

“Father!” Kas chastised playfully.

“It’s true, dear.” Ramir smiled. “If you had to cook in order for us to eat, we’d all starve.”

“I manage just fine, thank you,” Kas sniffed.

“Her last meal was wonderful.” I grinned.

“You mean her last spell,” Ramir said with a point in my direction.

Ramir, Eira, and I shared a laugh, but Kas just glared at me, and Asta blinked in confusion.

“In all honesty,” the old man said, “I think it’s her talent for sorcery that gets in her way of cooking.”

“What?” Kas asked with a frown. “You’ve never told me that.”

“You never asked.” Ramir shrugged.

“How does her talent get in the way?” Asta inquired as she chopped some garlic into tiny bits. “Wouldn’t it be the opposite?”

“Yeah,” Eira chuckled. “It seems like talent could only help.”

“You might think so.” Ramir nodded. “But sorcery is very precise. A sorceress needs all the right objects, potions, spells, etc., etc. Of course, a great sorceress is able to improvise here or there, but that is very difficult to do. Sorcery is as precise as nature. One small thing going awry, too much sunlight one day, not enough water the next, one small thing can cause the downfall of a plant, just as it can cause the downfall of a spell.”

“I’d never thought of it like that.” Asta’s forehead wrinkled with contemplation.

“Most people haven’t,” Ramir said. “But Kas has, and it’s that attention to detail that gets in the way of her cooking.”

“Impossible.” Kas put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “People follow recipes when they cook. I can follow a recipe.”

“Anybody can follow a recipe, dear,” Ramir said, and he flashed her a sweet smile. “That doesn’t mean you can cook.”

Kas glared harder, and I had to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” the strawberry-blonde asked.

“How riled up you are,” Eira said with a grin.

“It’s just… your father is right,” I chuckled. “Anybody can follow a recipe, but it’s when you stray from the recipe that the best meals are created.”

“Spoken like a true cook.” Ramir pointed his knife at me and nodded.

“That makes no sense,” Kas huffed. “Recipes are supposed to be the perfect way to make the dish. How can straying from the recipe be a good thing?”

“And that’s why you’re not a good cook, dear,” Ramir said softly, and he patted her on the shoulder and picked up the now full pot to carry it over to the fire.

“You’re a cruel father, you know that?” Kas joked.

“I’m well aware,” Ramir laughed.

Ramir stepped over Svass and Uffe and put the pot on the fire while we all settled into the room. I found a seat on the sofa, and Asta sat next to me, with Inger at the end. Kas and Eira sat on the sofa across from us, and Ramir moved to his big, comfy chair opposite the fire. The old man smiled as he stared into the flame, and I thought about all he did for us. He joked earlier that he didn’t do magic for free, but in all actuality, his services would probably cost far more than we could ever afford, even with all the jewels and coins we’d come into recently.

Ramir’s talent was unsurpassable. Even Preyna had admitted the old man was a better sorcerer than she was, and I could only imagine one day Kas would be her father’s successor.

After a while, the scent of Ramir’s stew filled the air, and my mouth watered as my stomach growled in response.

I was relieved when Ramir stood up and dished us all bowls.

I scooped up a heaping bite and shoved it into my mouth, only to pause and let out a sigh of contentment. Then my eyes closed as I relished the flavors that filled my mouth.

There was squash, onion, garlic, and venison, along with some seasonings I couldn’t name immediately. This was the kind of cooking Ramir had been talking about. No recipe, just him and the food. And it was delicious.

I ate quickly, but just before I was done, I heard the familiar sound of Preyna’s voice, and a second later, Blar ran into the room and directly up to the bowl of stew laid out for him.

“Sorry,” Preyna chuckled as she walked in. “I let myself back in, I hope that’s okay. Well, actually, Blar let us back in. We arrived in your bathroom.”

“At least he landed you inside.” Ramir smiled. “Were you able to retrieve the egg?”

“Right here,” the sorceress said, and she pulled the egg out of a satchel slung over her shoulder.

The egg was large enough that it needed