It was lucky for her that Marika and Jaan didn’t seem to mind her silent hovering or awkwardness. They’d “taken a shine to her,” according to the High Priestess. It was hard to deny when they liked to drag her up to their roost for hearty dinners and kept trying to introduce her to their grandson, who’d recently been promoted to the Isand’s Wing.
Not that shewoulddeny it. Divya basked in their affection, and she thanked the goddesses at noon and midnight every day for their kindness.
“Good morning,” she murmured, offering Marika a small smile. “Have things been busy?”
“Oh, always, always.” Marika set a steaming mug of tea down in front of her without asking. Clicking her tongue, the olddragon eyed the thin coat Divya wore with clear disapproval. “What have you been doing, wandering the streets in that? It’ll snow tonight! I woke up and smelled it in the air. Didn’t I, Jaan? No, this won’t do. You need a proper coat.”
Divya gratefully accepted the tea. Wrapping her numb fingers around the warm ceramic, she said, “I’m used to snow. The Refuge was on a mountain, and this is the coat I wore there.”
“No, no, not good enough! The ocean air is colder than mountain air. Your skin is so fragile, and that coat looks old enough to be from my generation.” Turning to holler through the square hole in the wall that opened up into the kitchen, she asked, “Jaan, where did I put ourkingitus’s kingitus?”
“In the drawer by the register, my Chosen,” Jaan called back.
“Ah, that’s right.” Wings flexing, Markia bent at the waist with a grunt to retrieve a paper-wrapped package from beneath the counter.
Setting it in front of Divya, she explained, “I planned to wait until Moonrise, but I had a feeling you wouldn’t have a proper coat, so… Go ahead,kingitus.Open it!”
“It’s… for me?” She stared at the package with wide eyes.
Jaan’s weathered face appeared in the hole in the wall. Bushy eyebrows raised, he rasped, “Who else would it be for? You act like you’ve never gotten a gift before!”
Divya flexed her fingers nervously around the mug. In a small, wavering voice, she admitted, “I haven’t. We didn’t give gifts in the Refuge. Charity was?—”
“No gifts?” Marika’s proud nose wrinkled. “Ridiculous! Open it now,kingitus,so you can start to catch up on everything you’ve missed!”
She stared at the package with a deep, painful sort of longing — and no small amount of guilt. “But I shouldn’t…”
“You will!” Jaan crowed, pointing an arthritic claw in her direction. “Or we’ll be offended!”
“Wewill,”Marika agreed.
“Oh.” Divya flushed. Fingers uncurling from her mug, she delicately skimmed them over the shiny silver paper, feeling its creases and folds like she could memorize them.
There’d never been abanon gifts, necessarily, but they also hadn’t been done. The Refuge was a place of worship and service. For those raised there, things like individual wants and possessions just weren’t considerations.
To have agift,a thing purchased just for her by someone who had no reason to do so other than kindness… It was a different kind of overwhelming.
Divya bit her lip and gently slid her thumb under the paper’s seam to tear the tape without harming the paper. She wanted to keep every part of the present, and she could already imagine what she’d do with the beautiful paper.
But all thoughts of crafts and keepsakes escaped her when she beheld the crimson coat hidden within the wrapping. Spreading it over the counter, she stared at the silver embroidery and tasseled belt with awe. It was heavy in her hands, far heavier than her thin white coat, and appeared to be handmade.
Divya had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.
Eyes stinging, she brought the coat to her face like it was her prayer cloth. Her first gift meant just as much to her as that cloth, which was the only thin connection to her mother she possessed.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
A warm hand squeezed her shoulder. “You’re welcome,minu kingitus.Now, let’s see it on!”
Jaan smacked what sounded like a spoon against a pot. “Fashion show!”
Divya laughed, her tears soaking into the heavy wool.Thank you,she silently prayed.Thank you, goddesses, for the gift of these people.
The Holiday Black Market
The Market wasn’t alwaysabout smuggling, shady deals, and cheap goods. During Burden’s Moon, it also had some pretty great gifts.
The old soap factory was packed to the rafters with the usual suspects and those who came for the season. The grime and ramshackle stalls couldn’t be disguised by fairy lights or garlands, but there was a certain magic to the atmosphere all the same.
