Moveable Feast Novels & Stories

That woman is truly fantastic, not a mean bone in her body. “Well, come on Maisey, let’s go get some food, Luna’s orders,” I said, bumping shoulders with Maisey and motioning with my head. I swear if it wasn’t for being a were-wolf I would put ‘the freshman 15’ on every weekend I spend out here. There must have been two dozen tables laden with food; salads, cold pastas, meats, hot dishes, and desserts.

I stepped back and turned to greet them, forcing my face into one of strength, of triumph. They needed to see reassurance. They needed to see potential. But I looked to my new Luna, and she was no longer looking at me. She was looking at the crowd. Smiling, yes—but not at me. Not with me. ⸻ The feast began at the end of sunset. Tables were groaning under roasted game, honey-glazed roots, blood-orange wine, baked tarts, and flame-roasted lamb. Servants flitted across the hall, filling goblets and beaming nervously. Music issued from the raised platform on the east end of

Fairchild's new steak is ready, so get your—" His voice cut off mid-sentence when he saw the room full of black-clad men and me standing in the center. He was Tristan Fontaine, the head chef of the restaurant. He and Colette were two peas in a pod, and together, they ran this place like their kingdom, thinking they were powerful and untouchable. The moment he saw me, his face turned paler than the undercooked scallops. "M-Ms. Roe…" I turned to him and smiled. "Perfect timing, Tristan. Ms. Gill and I were just talking about the odd texture of the Pearlysian scallops. "Maybe you can explain why the fresh shipment of Pearlysian scallops that supposedly arrived this morning tasted like zombie me

"And you’re going to find that my heart is a lot harder to swallow than you think." She sat in the chair, the heavy brush in her hand, watching the moon rise over the jagged black peaks of the Ridge. It was nearly full. Tomorrow, the "Feast of the Luna" would begin. And Elara intended to make sure she was the only one who left the table alive.

The Vale was alive with the sound of laughter and the smell of roasting meat. It was the day of the first "Festival of the Silver Moon." For the first time, the outcasts weren't just eating to survive; they were feasting to celebrate. Long wooden tables were set up in the clearing, piled high with fresh bread, berries, and venison. Streamers made of white silk hung from the trees, dancing in the cool mountain breeze.

Rosella Mama and Stella had prepared a big feast. Different types of Spanish and Italian dishes and also the expensive liquor that was placed beside daddy looked heavenly. “Lets dig in, shall we?” Mama said. Taking a small bite from the cinnamon roll that rested on my plate, a moan erupted out of my mouth at the deliciousness. “So yummy~” Three pairs of eyes stilled on me. Stella giggled. “I know I’m the best cook.” I looked towards her and nodded hastily. “The best baker in the world, precisely.”

hest vegetables to make the grandest feast one has ever seen. We were already done and it was finally time to serve the food to the waiting lot in the huge dining hall of the main palace which the new Alpha moved into right after the Duel. Some of the maids were assigned to do this and that was the first time I wished I wasn't sent to the kitchen instead. I wanted to at least catch a glimpse of him to know if he was okay. I've not seen him since he was ushered out of the podium. I haven't even had the time to go looking for him but I assured myself that I would go once the festivity dies down and everyone has returned to their their rooms. But right now, I could still catch a glimpse of him

5 million dollars and a life of luxury. My adoptive parents, playing the odds, signed me up along with my sister, Janet Cooper. We battled through tough challenges like we were heroes in an epic saga, and we finally reached the grand finale. It was a showcase of talents. Janet insisted on serving her signature beef and veggie stew to impress Galarva, so I shut that crazy idea down immediately. I had to break it down for the whole family. In Indoria, cows were considered holy, and eating beef could land us in serious trouble with the law.

He looked like he’d been trying not to think about tomorrow and failing. I moved into the kitchen, because tasks were my anchor. “What are we eating,” I asked, as if food could hold time in place. Rory perked up. “A farewell feast.” Micah nodded once. “Something with leftovers for the flight.” Jace glanced at me, and his voice went quieter. “Whatever you want.” That nearly broke me—how small it was, how gentle, how much it sounded like trust. I forced myself to keep my tone light, because if I didn’t, my voice would shake. “Okay. Farewell feast. We can do pasta. Something comforting.”

Tables were packed with plates and cutlery, meats and roasted vegetables, greens and desserts. They were laden with flowers spread among the dishes, decorations gracing the tables. The festival was a show of immense wealth meant to impress the shifters present. The food seemed endless, and staff continued to refill the dishes as they ran low. A constant stream of replenishment streamed from the kitchens to the grounds where the feast was set up. The tables of food were standing throughout the courtyard in the back of the castle. More tables stood in the fields beyond, benches attached for the participants to eat after their day of travel. All of the tribes had arrived and were mingling throu