Papa released me first, pulling back to look me over for injuries. “This is…an unexpected surprise! It’s so good to have you back.” His hands were stiff on my shoulders, gravelly baritone warm. “You look...stronger.” Noticing the wound on my fingertip, he moved without comment to grab some bandages and wrap my hand.
My lips twisted into a mirthful smile. “A little,” I admitted. He was losing the battle against his graying hairs, they'd turned his locks the hue of faded wheat.
Mama was fussing over me, tucking honey strands of my hair back from my face. This close, I could see she had new wrinkles near the corners of her lips and eyes. The scent of garlic and thornroot clung to her. “We missed you so much,” her voice was choked with emotion. “Every single day.”
An ache bloomed in me, hearing their voices again after so long. I basked in the familiarity. “I missed you guys too,” I leaned into Nessa again, giving her another hug.
Nessa pulled back. “No one is going to ask her how she’s back before her birthday?” Shifting from one foot to the other would make me look guilty, so I resisted the impulse.
“Take what you’re given with thanks,” Papa quoted scripture. Nessa didn’t look appeased.
“We have plenty of food! I will set a place for you,” Mama said. “We have some fresh lemon-water too, if you'd like.”
It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that they weren’t expecting me, but the table was set for four. They were expecting company. Mama pulled a chair from the living room up to the table.
I sat, the familiar chair feeling like an old friend at my back. “Thank you. I am pretty hungry.” I loaded up a plate with food. Nessa plunked an extra heaping of sunberry pie on my plate with a sly side eye. The aroma was mouthwatering.
Someone rapped on the door.
“Jessarian,” Mama greeted as she opened the door. “What fortunate timing! Thank you for agreeing to come on such short notice.”
Abruptly, I was no longer hungry.
“It’s wonderful to see you again, ma’am,” he said with practiced courtesy, stepping into the house.
Everything about him was smooth. His pretty face, his hair without a strand out of place, his graceful movements and effortless charm. If you spat at him it would probably bounce off instead of dirtying his perfect clothes.
Bright emerald eyes landed on me, widening a fraction. “What a treat! I wasn’t expecting you to be joining us, Lisia. Happy Birthday.”
No one bothered correcting him.
He tilted his head, “You should always wear your hair loose, it rounds down your edges.”
Didn’t ask.
He hadn’t changed visually at all since I’d last seen him, still the picture of a sincere betrothed with flawless manners. “Yeah, this is a real treat.” I bit down on any sarcasm, scratching at my engagement ring. It chafed against the new callouses I’dearned, uncomfortable and over-tight. I’d grown since it was originally fitted to my finger.
Maybe he’d grown too, he could be a different person from the betrothed I’d known from childhood. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. And in hindsight, of course this feast was for him. As the son of a Priest, Mama had pulled out all the stops to impress him.
“What was it like in the Reformatory?” Nessa asked me.
Everyone's heads swung in her direction. “Evenessa!” Papa barked.
“What?” she whined, dropping into the chair next to mine.
“It’s alright,” I assured her, swallowing my first bite down past the rising tension in the room. My hunger hadn’t completely left, even if Jessarian’s arrival had diminished my appetite. “It was pretty boring. Mostly hauling rocks.”
I told them about the layout of the cells, a few of the other prisoners and Sentinels I'd met there. I told them about the limited luxuries we got, like access to cards, books, and materials to write and draw with. How boring it was, most days spent mindlessly mining without a specific service or purpose.
I told them what they wanted to hear.
What I left out was everything else.
“That sounds truly dreadful,” Jessarian said after I finished. “I can’t imagine being surrounded by so many unsavory characters. Or forced into menial labor! Thank goodness you’re rid of it.”
I shoved a bite of vegetables into my mouth and chewed to keep from mouthing off. I’d done verbal gymnastics to make the Reformatory sound as benign as possible to assuage any guilt Mama or Papa might harbor around my imprisonment, and Jessarian had lit a torch to my efforts.
A glance at my family showed guarded grief twisting their expressions. Mama seemed far away as she stole a look at the cabinet where she used to store nappies.
