“It’s fine,” Daziel said. I stared at him, stomach twisting, and he reached over and squeezed my hand lightning fast. “It’s fine.”
Aunt Tirtzah changed the topic, asking me how the decipherment was going. “I read an interview with your professor in thepapers a few days ago,” she said. “Everyone is fascinated by what the scrolls might contain.”
It was not fine. But I managed to answer my aunt. I told her about the scrolls up until dinner. We heated up ratatouille and paired it with garlic soup and fresh bread. For dessert, we had nougat and honey cake and jam-filled donuts.
Then we carried my aunt’s lights out into her garden, placing them in a giant circle around us near the fountain. The glass dome was open, and we craned our necks back, taking in the moon and a few bright planets, before beginning to light the candles and lamps.
“How do your families celebrate?” Aunt Tirtzah asked.
I answered first. “The whole village does the Lumière ceremony together. We walk an hour outside, so there’s no artificial light, and sing the old songs surrounded by candles. We have a chaotic family celebration the second night—Dad fries up all sorts of things; he’s currently into zucchini fritters—and Michal and Grandma and I decorate, and Mom and Adina make cookies.” I smiled, the memories bittersweet. I’d never missed a holiday before. “Selah—she’s eleven—organizes everyone, whether we need organization or not.” I noticed how intently Aunt Tirtzah was listening. I strove for an offhand tone. “You could come one year.”
She smiled too brightly. “It’s a long trip. And—I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Except she wouldn’t be imposing, because she was family.Why haven’t you ever visited?I wanted to ask, but I wasn’t brave enough. She was the adult. It was her prerogative to decide she didn’t want to see her brother’s family, not mine to question her. “What aboutyou?” I asked Daziel. Though humans and shedim were inherently different, our religious and ceremonial observances were often the same. “How do you celebrate?”
“We set candles adrift on the winds, and there are light and sound displays. There’s dancing and feasting.” His black eyes connected with mine, bright with flecks of gold. He smiled. “But I like these family meals more.”
I smiled at him, then hesitantly turned to my aunt. “How did you and—your parents spend the festival?” I stumbled over how to refer to my paternal grandparents.
“They were shopkeepers,” Aunt Tirtzah said. We finished lighting the candles and sat cross-legged on the ground, watching the flames flicker. “It was always a very busy time for them. Still, on the second or third night, we’d manage a few minutes of candle lighting. My own grandparents—your great-grandparents—lived in the Judahite arrondissement, and we’d visit them.”
Her words raised questions I’d never thought of. “Are there other relatives?”
She smiled sadly. “Almost no one is left.”
Ena-Cinnai was so big on family—I certainly had plenty of cousins back on the plains—that it felt strange I hadn’t known about any over here. Sadness washed over me that my aunt didn’t have people to spend the holidays with.
“Anyway,” my aunt said briskly, reaching into the satchel she’d brought outside and lifting gift bags from within. She passed one to me and one to Daziel. “These are for the two of you.”
“Oh,” I said surprised. “Thanks.”
“This is incredibly kind of you,” Daziel said softly.
We unpacked popcorn with chocolate and caramel, a pair ofgloves each, and a candle. “Thank you so much,” I said, touched and sorry I hadn’t gotten her anything.
“It’s nothing,” she said briskly. “Just a few trinkets.”
Maybe she’d never felt invited to visit the plains.
When the chill became uncomfortable, we headed inside. It was late, past ten. “We should be getting home,” I said, then hesitated. Aunt Tirtzah had sent her staff home, and I wasn’t sure the tram would be operating today.
She hesitated too. “If you wish—you could stay the night—”
I glanced at Daziel, unwilling to commit him to anything without talking it over first. “We didn’t bring any of our things—but if your driver is gone—”
She smiled. “As it turns out, I’m perfectly capable of driving a neshem carriage myself.”
She drove us back to Testylier House, all three of us crowded on the driver’s bench, my aunt explaining the dials and levers. The sky was unexpectedly clear still. When I watched her drive away, I felt a small pang in my chest at the thought she might be lonely.
Still, I was delighted to be home, ready to curl up in bed and sleep forever, happily sated by dinner and family. I collapsed on the sofa, yawning so widely my mouth hurt.
“I have a gift for you,” Daziel said shyly.
This perked me up. Who didn’t love an unexpected gift? “You do?”
Sitting beside me, he handed over a poorly wrapped bundle. I pulled it apart to reveal a teal-and-pink crocheted scarf, the colors familiar from seeing them wound around Daziel’s crochet hook.
There was a strange wrenching in my heart. I smiled at him, my cheeks hurting. “It’s beautiful.”
