Terry Goodkind - Temple of the Winds

Kahlan growled at the insistent knock. It appeared that ignoring it would not make it go away.

She kissed Richard and wrapped a blanket around herself. “Don’t move, Lord Rahl. I’ll get rid of them.”

Barefoot, she crossed the dim, windowless room. She squinted at the sudden light when she opened the door.

“Zedd, what is it?”

He was eating a piece of tava bread. He had a platter of it in his other hand. He offered her the tray.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

“Yes, thank you. Very thoughtful.”

He took a bite of tava bread as his gaze roamed over her hair. He pointed at it with the rolled-up tava bread.

“You will never get those tangles out, dear one.”

“Thank you for your fashion advice.” She started to close the door.

He put his hand against it. “The elders are becoming concerned. They would like to know when they can have their spirit house back.”

“Tell them that when I’m done with it, I’ll let them know.”

Cara, scowling her best Mord-Sith scowl, stepped up behind him. “I will see that he does not bother you again, Mother Confessor.”

“Thank you, Cara.”

Kahlan shut the door in his smiling face. She hurried across the floor, back to Richard. She set the platter aside, laid down, and enfolded Richard in her blanket.

“A pesky in-law,” she explained.

“I heard. Tava bread and tangled hair.”

“Now, where were we?”

He kissed her, and she remembered; he was showing her some magic.