“I’ll never belong anywhere.”
-From the journal of Nova Tershetta, 9268 AS
The training went on for hours. We worked in sections across the base, completing archery, sword fighting, dagger throwing, medical work, and even some alchemy. It ended with group movements, which was really just following the stretches, steps, and orders of the woman leading the training. Az had disappeared for a few minutes afterwards, leaving me with Desi. We talked about healing, but I was still suspicious enough of her that I struggled to listen. Once Az came back, his smile wide, I eagerly told her goodbye.
Az forced me to race him to the damn wards—well, he dared me, which was the same thing—and I was so exhausted by the end that I couldn’t focus my mind enough to shadow walk us back.
Finally done and back home, Az and I took hefty breaths, worn out from so much constant movement. He looked my way, smiling as he said, “We’re getting lazy in this cottage.”
“I know quite a few exercises we could regularly be doing here in Snake Lodge, but you’re being difficult.” Az snorted, spitting out the water he had sipped. Chuckling, I grabbed thecup, sipping from it too. “I’m serious, you know. I could use some stretching.”
Groaning, he pushed off the counter, walking away from me. “You truly are a wicked little thing.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“How about you tell me all about it over some coffee and lunch?”
Submitting to my loss, I nodded, walking over to kick off my boots. He’d already discarded his, leaving them slightly askew. Without thinking, I bent down and aligned them how he liked, setting mine beside them. I stared at the pairs after, startled by my own actions.
“Coffee will be done in a few minutes. What are you hungry for? Want some hummus and crackers with that one food you showed me how to make? The one your dad taught you?”
“Falafel?”
“Yeah, that one. I might need a bit of help, but I think I can do it.”
Az didn’t turn around to face me, instead pulling out ingredients and getting the oil heated. I watched in awe, too stunned to speak. He was cooking my favorite food. Making my favorite drink. Soon, he even began humming the song Celeste used to sing all the time about a raven and a wolf. Had I really taught him that? And why did I find it so endearing?
Trying my best not to lose my composure, I walked over to Death and scratched behind her tiny ear, wishing I could both freeze time and speed it up. Because I was secretly enjoying watching as he almost danced around the kitchen, burning himself and nearly cutting off his fingertips when he used the really big knife. I walked to him, laughing when I realized how poorly he was doing.
“You have to use the chickpeas that I already soaked,” I said, sliding my hand over his. He’d been attempting to smashthe still-firm balls with the bottom of a spoon. “Also, you have a masher for this, believe it or not. I swear, it’s almost like someone from my house stocked the cottage.”
The joke didn’t seem to land right with him, because his smile fell. “That makes sense. I’ll grab them.”
He moved to the ice box, pulling out the soaked and dried chickpeas without looking back up at me. I helped him mash them, the two of us finishing the recipe together.
I snacked as we went, the crackers from the Farigh District my new favorite. The cottage warmed with each of our lame jokes and inappropriate suggestions, all of which led to small arguments about how the other was doing a task.
“You shouldn’t dice those,” I’d say.
“Why is it you insist on doing everything at once and leaving a mess in your wake?” he’d ask.
So I’d wipe hummus on his nose, and he’d chase me with huge chunks of onion. When he accidentally wiped his eyes and started screaming from the burn, I nearly choked on my own spit and peed my pants.
When we successfully pulled out the first ball, he broke out in the most ridiculous dance.
“Are you seizing right now?” I asked through my laughter.
Reaching out his hands, he brushed his fingers over mine, twisting his hips before bending back. “Come on then. Show me your best move.”
So I did. I shimmied and shook, probably looking ten times more insane. Death leapt onto the counter as we laughed and danced, watching us with a tilted head and swaying tail.
“Murder! Come here! Dance!” he said, darting for her. She leapt away, hissing at him as she ran.
“Her name is Death, you impossible man!” I shouted, laughing at the two of them.
In the end, he caught her, bribing her with a lick of hummus. We did successfully make a mediocre version of Dad’s favorite dish, which Mama once said Tershettas had been making for generations. As we ate, Death sitting on the table with a plate of fish, I thought of my family.
Mama would have scolded me for Death being at the table. Celeste would have made fun of us for our chaos. And Dad? He’d smile and tell me the food was great.
