"Sunar, care for a bite?"
The mountain of meat rotated the bone stick, deftly dismembering a sheep's foreleg, exposing the scalding red flesh to the air.
White mist dispersed and rose, the rich juices dripping down the red meat into a porcelain basin, rippling out golden circles.
Sunar swallowed hard.
He had just had breakfast, but how could he resist the temptation? Haruhan was eating so delectably—the combination of cumin and roast meat was hard not to crave.
"Nar!"
The Northern Court envoy's face was stern.
The falling snowflakes gave resonance to his voice.
Sunar subconsciously wiped the corner of his mouth, "No, no, I'm not very hungry, you eat, Haruhan."
Haruhan didn't stand on ceremony.
He stuffed the leg bone into his mouth, licked it clean, bit through the bone, sucked out the marrow, and finally swallowed a purple onion.
Impressive, indeed.
