Fitz sat alone on the edge of his bed, eating a bowl of beef stew with fluffy, herby dumplings. The broth was rich, there were at least three kinds of mushroom mixed in with the beef that was probably raised somewhere on this planet and not transported across interstellar distances to get to his bowl. But it was the dumplings that really did it for him. They were some magical combination of potato and flour and definitely real butter.
Yes, it was undoubtedly the dumplings he hated the most. Because he wanted to be moody and depressed now that he was about to start his second night in lockup. Delicious food wasn"t letting him do that. It was annoying.
He heard voices in the anteroom just as he was scraping the last of the broth out of the bottom of the bowl. He put it back on the tray wit
