"It would only be polite to go say hello." Her mother's voice was pointed, and Silva had wondered if any of them had any idea of what it was they were asking of her.
It was then that she had the realization.
This place, this community, it was never going to feel like home again, but that did not mean it was not a shelter. That did not mean she would be smart in giving up her position. After all, maintaining the upper hand in a long con was the only way to walk away ahead. She'd perched on his lap at that poker speakeasy, holding her fanned cards as he whispered to her, had listened to him convince ogres twice his size that he barely knew how to hold a cue. Watch the others. Watch their behaviors, look for their tells. The things they don't say are far more important than the things they do.Don’t eat their food, don’t accept gifts, be careful where you wander.But above all, know when to cut your losses and walk away. Without that skill, a simple hustle could be ruinous.
She had escaped this place, for a time, butthey— Tannar and her family, the elves around them — had not. They had no idea what lessons she had learned and what new skills she possessed.
She could be who they wanted her to be, Silva of the Daytime, reestablish her security in their community, reassert her place in it and the privilege that came with it, forbothof them, andwhen the time came — which it undoubtedly would, she thought, sipping her ginger tea — she would know when to cut her losses and walk away. She would step through that clover and find him. The perfect hustle.
And now she was halfway there.
“You look beautiful, by the way.” Tannar’s voice was low, but it was not a whisper.
Silva smiled, refocusing on the spring fundraiser happening around her. It wouldn’t do to be caught being displeasing to others in any way. She knew what Tannar was seeing as he bent his head to her. Her makeup was perfect — the extra color she'd used in her contour hid the sickly tinge to her skin, a result of the nausea that had persisted for weeks on end, that she was certain she would simply never be rid of. Her hair, handing in a smooth wave, shone like a burnished penny. She was fashionably but demurely dressed, looking like the perfect little Elvish debutante. Silva of the Daytime.
She slipped her fingers through his, leaning in to kiss his smooth, ivory cheek.Wagers against the house, double or nothing.She had much to lose, but much more to gain, and she could not afford to be cut off from this world. Not now. Not when she had so much riding on her security. But she could do this.
As sure a bet as drinking a blue-eyed goblin under the table, with just as high a reward.
Ris
She was killing time in Bridgeton, having left directly from work.
She’d given him the space he’d asked for, gave him the chance to uproot his existence and run away from all of the hurt over Tate’s disappearance that lingered in Starling Heights. He’d not be home yet, but she was going to be knocking on his door once he was.
The museum in Bridgeton was just a few blocks from his apartment, the neighborhood a twisted, snaking maze of interesting little brownstones and depression-era walk-ups. She passed a cramped, second-hand bookstore, an occultist shop with a shining display of crystals and pinned butterflies in its front window, and the sort of greasy spoon diner that always served the very best breakfasts. They were going to explore every inch of all of it.
When she came upon the museum, standing on the corner, across the intersection, Ris hesitated.What was the point, without him?She straightened her shoulders, crossing when thelight turned green. The point is you’re still independent.You’re not going to lose yourself in this relationship. But that doesn’t mean you can’t let him in all the way.
It was twice the size as the private museum in Cambric Creek. The size meant they had more extensive offerings, of course, but she still enjoyed the highly curated efforts made by their own little building. She wasn’t giving up her life in Cambric Creek, Ris reminded herself as she walked through the museum’s display of cave art. That’s where she worked. She did ballet and went to happy hour and had her favorite take-out spots. She loved the observatory and the film festival and all the little celebrations that made the town special . . . but she’d be right next door.
She had just wandered out of an exhibit featuring ogres through the ages, into something that rivaled the Selkie collection in Sterling Heights.
Living, Loving, and Dying: Marriage and Burials from the First Age
Ris walked into the exhibit with her mouth hanging open. An arrangement of glass vitrines held a collection of ancient artifacts, some of them so old, she could scarcely believe they still had a discernible shape at all. Wedding chalices, bridal torques, burial shrouds. Huge photographs of excavation sites, dated before the great veiling, showing entwined skeletons of various species — couples buried together, existing that way through eternity.
She watched a small film in one of those mini theaters Ainsley loved so much, showing the work at a dig site, several generations of the same family buried within feet of each other, practically clasping hands. There were replications of ancient brides, the Elvish garments of brilliant cerulean blue, the Minoans with their rich purple. A fae dagger and an Elvish ring,a huge stone plinth, carved with the names of an Ocish clan, all of their remains burned on the same site, across two centuries.
She was crying by the time she reached the last room of the exhibits, coming to stand beside a tall woman who was gazing up at the remains of a young couple, interred together. She wore a museum lanyard, marking herself as staff, her hand sitting lightly at the top of her pregnancy swell.
"This is amazing," Ris burbled."“There’s a museum in Cambric Creek with a Minoan exhibit . . . this is the first thing I’ve seen that even comes close to that. I – I have to bring my boyfriend back here this weekend. He's going to lose his mind."
The tall woman turned with a smile. Her own eyes were glossy. She was big boned, with long, honey blonde hair, towering over Ris, who was already tall for an elf. "That’s seriously the best compliment you could have paid us. I’m so glad you enjoyed it. This is what it's all about, right?" Her hand landed again on the swell of her stomach. "Living and loving and dying. That's all we've done from the dawn of time. And you can find identical evidence of it in every single civilization, dating all the way back to the veiling. No matter the age, no matter the species. We never really change."
He swung open the apartment door, already prepared to give whoever was banging on the other side of it a piece of his mind.
"Who the fuck do you think you —" Ainsley's eyes widened, the curse dying on his lips. "Nanaya."
"I have some stipulations." She pushed past him, shouldering her way into the apartment, practically flattening him against the door. The apartment was the second story of a quaint brownstone, on one of those crooked little alleys. There was a small balcony and window boxes, and she could already envision the explosion of color they would plant there.We can take up gardening. "I hope this thing is atleasttwo bedrooms. Thekitchenhasto be organized the way I want it. There's nothing I hate more than hunting around for the pot I want to use. I get one hour a week to myself. That’s non-negotiable. You can go to the store, you can go play at the park, I don't care. Just vacate the premises so that I can hear myself think. You have an appalling habit of not rinsing your spoons before you drop them in the sink. I don't care if all you did was stir a cup of coffee, rinse the fucking thing off. I'm sure I'll think of more, but those are the ones I know off the top of my head."
When she turned, he was leaning against the counter, his eyebrow arched. "You're shooting a lot of orders already, lady.”
“Yeah, well . . .” She crossed back to him slowly, relieved that he didn't pull away when she hooked her arms around his neck. "Am I going to live here, or what?"
Ainsley laughed, low and warm and entirely familiar. She wanted to sink into that sound and never climb out, at least not until she was forced to.Someday, you're going to look back on all this and wonder why you got your panties in such a fucking twist. You're no better than Silva.
"I mean, I would like you to. I would like for this to not be the end. Ireallylove you, Ris. But I need to know thatthismatters,” one of his long arms swept open, obliging her to step away, gesturing to the space between them. “That we matter. ThatImatter. If you just want the fuck buddy plus benefit plan, I respect that, but I can’t be the one.”
