Silence falls between us again. Awkward this time, and I don’t like it.
“How did guardians go up the mountain?” I ask abruptly.
Zan hesitates.
Nomi answers me, reentering the room. “Zan’s scales. He gifted them to Sage Kovan to make a talisman so his child could live on the mountain with them. Now the talisman is passed down to the guardians. Teren’s wearing it at the moment, though, to help him with the power fluctuations.”
I glance at Zan, who’s not meeting my gaze for once. Why didn’t he want me to know that?
Guessing the direction of my thoughts, Nomi adds dryly, “He knows you’re mad at him for manipulating you and is trying not to manipulate you further by affecting your opinion of him favorably.”
Oh.
My budding feelings of betrayal at his secrecy dissipate.
Zan glares at Nomi.
She raises her eyebrows unrepentantly in return. “What am I here for, if not helping sages learn how to live among people?”
“How do you do that?” I ask curiously, since Zan is at least temporarily going to be less forthcoming.
“The main task most of the time is just upkeep of the cottage,” Nomi says. “Making sure the plumbing still works—magic helped set it up, from what I understand, but it doesn’t take magic to maintain it—dealing with any leaks in the roof, that kind of thing. When a sage arrives, I bring cleaning supplies, fresh linens, some clothes to get started, and food. From there we take on one thing at a time—teaching you how to clean, shop, cook for yourself. Once you settle, we start figuring out what you might want to do. It’s my job to help you get started on your new life. So any questions you have about how anything works—”
“She can ask me,” Zan interrupts.
Nomi’s gaze fixes on him. “Canshe.”
Zan’s jaw clenches.
I blink. Is he...possessiveof me?
I feel a little thrill at that, though on its heels is the worry that I like it because I’ve been trained to be possessed.
And also he doesn’t get to be my only source of information on what to do with my life after he’s just blatantly maneuvered me onto a course.
“Thank you,” I tell Nomi. “I’m glad to know I can come to you.”
Zan stiffens beside me, just a touch, but one thing a life of being controlled by people hostile to me taught me was how to recognize volatile feelings in others.
An echo of tension runs through me—that I have instigated it, that I will have to manage it to not feel its effects—but before I can get caught up in a spiral, in thehabitof over-thinking, Teren comes in bearing a tray full of what I assume is ice cream.
It’s not just ices with cream.
Chapter 7
Thetrayiscarefullyarranged with plates of cheerful, complementing colors and flowers, creating a holistic sense of joy just from their display.
But my eyes are for what’s in the bowls.
My eyes are probably as big as the saucers, and full of stars.
Teren sets the tray down on the table, and I absently notice that his magic has settled a bit—his sage power must have something to do with acts of care.
“Vanilla ice cream,” Teren announces. “I thought you might like a classic flavor.”
Zan takes a bowl and a spoon. “Ice cream didn’t exist five hundred years ago,” he says to Teren. “Vanilla did, but—”
“It wasrare,” I say fervently. “A delicacy. I don’t think I ever tasted it. You said vanilla is common now, right? Like tea?”
