“Soup?” Dakshana echoed. “If I’m immortal, do I need to eat?”
The man was already ladling something wonderful-smelling into a hollowed-out turtle shell. “No, but why waste the finer things in life if you can still enjoy them?” He handed her the bowl.
She accepted it from him and went to take a sip, then paused. “How do I know this isn’t poisoned?”
“Poison won’t kill you.”
“But it would hurt me.”
And another smile blossomed on the man’s face. “You have a very quick mind. It’s not poisoned. I have nothing to gain from hurting you, child.”
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