“Well,” Darina says, and hands me a bowl. “If we’re leaving as soon as you have a plan, then I have a few days to teach you how to do actual work. We’d better start with cooking.”
“Start me on something simple,” I say, as I eye the ingredients she’s arranging on the counter.
Chapter Eight
Osric
I work on the broken stone bed until my arms ache. Physical effort is the only thing that keeps my thoughts in order.
The border collapsed years ago. I lift the fallen stones out of the sand one at a time, scrape them clean, and set them back where they belong. The work is slow, and it asks nothing of me except to be present. That’s the reason I’m out here instead of inside. If I stop moving, I’ll start thinking, and thinking takes me straight back to the kitchen, to her voice, to the words she said while claiming my stove as her own.
She’s leaving. A few days, maybe a week, and then she walks out of my life with Darina, her bag, and whatever plan she builds between now and then.
My first instinct is to grieve her early, to give up on her now, and endure it the way I’ve endured everything else. I know how to do that. I’ve had practice.
Then I set the last stone into the border, straighten up, and a different thought takes over at the same time as the ache in my back.
A few days is plenty of time, and time is more than I expected to have.
I can’t trap her here, and I won’t pressure her. If I push, I’m no better than her parents. But she’s under my roof for a while longer, and while she’s here, I can show her who I actually am. I can show her my world, my city, the way I live, the control I keep. Maybe she’ll never want me, and that’s up to her to decide. What I can do is give her a reason to stop fearing me, so that whatever she chooses, she chooses it without being afraid of me.
I gather the tools and carry them in as the sun drops over the cliffs. I spent the entire day outside, and when Darina called mein for lunch hours ago, I told her I wasn’t hungry. Now I am, and I can’t deny it anymore.
The smell reaches me as soon as I enter the house. Spice, meat, and something sweet underneath. None of it resembles anything I’ve ever eaten before. I stop in the doorway of the dining room. The table is set for three. In the middle, stands the heavy clay pot I’ve only ever used for boiling water, and around it, they’ve arranged bread wrapped in cloth, a dish of peppers shining with oil, and a bowl of pale roots mashed with herbs.
“Sit,” Darina says, then catches herself, because she’s not used to giving orders. “Please.”
I sit, and Esme takes the chair across from me, looking pleased with herself. I cock an eyebrow.
“I chopped the vegetables,” she says. “All of them. First time in my life.”
“She held the knife in a vise grip,” Darina says.
“I learned by the end.” Esme lifts her chin, but she’s smiling.
Darina fills my bowl first. The stew is dark and thick, the meat cooked soft, and the sweetness I smelled turns out to be dried fruit gone tender in the sauce. My spice jars have stood untouched since I bought them, because I never learned what to do with them. Darina clearly knows. I take one spoonful, then another, and when I look up, both women are watching me. Neither one is eating yet.
“It’s delicious,” I say, because it is. “I didn’t know food could be this good. A delight, not just fuel.”
Esme beams at me. It’s fascinating to watch – the way her face lights up, how she smiles with her whole mouth, showing off her perfect, white teeth.
Darina laughs into her bowl, and the two of them trade a grin across the table.
The bread is still warm from the oven, and the peppers carry real heat. It’s the best meal I’ve ever eaten, and I say so again.Darina gives a quiet thank you as she averts her gaze, seemingly embarrassed.
While Esme refills the water, I make the offer I’d come up with while gathering my tools.
“Would you like to see Haara? I could take you tomorrow.”
Esme sets down the jug. Interest sparkles in her blue eyes first, then caution.
“How do Scorpii feel about humans?” she asks.
“Wary,” I say. I could dress it up, but she’d know. “Some are hostile. Most will stare and keep their distance. No one will touch you while you’re with me.”
“Why not?”
“I was a city guard. People still respect me, even though I retired.”
