Asherton got up, and she thought he was going to storm out of the room, but instead he snatched up the tomato and slammed it on the table, then he leaned toward her, his eyes blazing. “Teach me,” he said in a tone that sounded more likefight me.
Magdala slapped the seat of his chair. “Sit.”
He obeyed her, his jaw tense. He jogged his knee up and down—he didn’t seem to like sitting still. It shook the table, and Magdala clamped her hand down on his leg. “Pick up the knife like I showed you.”
He did, and she closed her hand over his, then took his other hand and pinched his fingers on the tomato. A shiver ran through her, which she blamed on the open door. “Hold it tight, now, and just slice downward. Like so.”
A clean slice dropped onto the countertop, and Asherton tilted his lips down thoughtfully. “And what is the purpose of this?”
“Cut it into evenly sized chunks and you will see.”
The instant Zephyr and Asherton took their first bites of her golden omelets, Magdala realized she had made a mistake. Zephyr shut his eyes, chewing reverently, and Asherton inhaled his portion in two minutes, then held up his plate. “I don’t suppose you could make more?”
“I’m not the cook,” she mumbled.
Asherton leaned back in his chair and gestured around the room. “Then who is, Devney? Either you cook, or we eat plain eggs three meals a day again. It’s up to you.”
“I wasn’t born knowing how to do this!” Magdala cried. “I learned because I care about the taste of my food! I also care about the state of the house I live in. You two”—she pointed at them with her fork—“can learn just as easily.”
“Learn what?” Asherton asked, looking threatened.
“To cook and clean.”
“It’s a very big house. I begin tasks, but … it’s a very big house,” Asherton said.
“I’ve had enough of both of you,” she continued. “You can let the grounds return to nature or whatever rot, but I have to live in this house, too. When you’re done eating, we’ll start cleaning.”
Asherton smiled. “I thought you weren’t the maid.”
“I’m not.” She took another bite of her omelet. “You’ll be cleaning, too, and if you don’t, I will make one serving of supper tonight and eat it all myself. I warn you, there will be pie, and it will be the best thing you’ve ever smelled.”
Zephyr looked panicked. “A little scrubbing never hurt anyone.”
“If I’m going to help you with your chores, you’ll have to help me with mine,” Asherton said.
Magdala smiled. “Excellent. Begin with the bedroom.”
“Alright then.” Asherton sprang up. “No time to waste.”
Magdala spent a blissful hour in the garden, weeding around the tomato vines. When she returned to the bedroom, Asherton was sitting in the center of the floor, rooting through a box of bleached animal bones. If he was attempting to clean, he had failed. The room was twice the mess it had been before.
“What are you doing?’ Magdala demanded.
“I’m cleaning,” he replied. “I found these years ago in an old shed in the woods.”
Magdala peered at them and wondered if the shed had been her mother’s workshop when she lived on Elegy. She would have needed somewhere to hide away with her crates of spines, femurs, and knucklebones.
“If you’re cleaning, why is it worse?” she asked.
“Trust the process,” he said with a charming smile.
“Why don’t we start with just the dirty clothes?” she suggested.
“I did, but when I reached for a shirt under the bed, I found a box of letters, and when I opened that, I realized that they were out of order, so I had to find the second box—and while I was doing that, I found some discarded books and realized I needed to organize the bookshelf, and as I was sorting through the books …”
“Your Highness, you just need to put the clothes in the wicker basket.”
“I’ll circle back to it.”
