Page 144 of Under Restless Skies

“Hopefully.” Except that nothing will erase what I saw. Nothing will bring back my trust in this academy.

I take a forkful of rice, still stunned that my horror hasn’t suppressed my appetite.

Nelly then stiffens, looking at someone behind me, and I turn and see Alayel, who walks to our table and crouches by me.

“Come to my room,” he says, his voice soft. “At rain time.”

He kisses me briefly on the lips before I have time to tell him I’m eating. Then he walks away from the refectory, Flavio beside him.

Nelly smiles. “At least you’ll have a lovely evening.”

“For sure.” But I’m feeling weird about his invitation, maybe because he worded it like an order, even if his tone was gentle.

Everything feels weird and I don’t know what to do. No. There’s one thing I have to do right away.

I don’t knock on the door this time. I just walk into the chaos of the end of lunchtime at the Grease & Spice.

The assistant cook is washing dishes, while Laristella walks in holding a pile of dirty plates.

“Mayara, dear⁠—”

“Let me help,” I offer, then take her pile and put it in the sink.

Laristella gives me an odd look. “Shouldn’t you be in the academy?”

“I had the afternoon off. Don’t stop your work for me.”

She huffs and goes back to the serving room as I clear the plates. My brother walks in and sniggers. “Decided to come back, Mah?”

“Just today.” In reality, the reason I came so early was to make sure to catch my brother at the restaurant. I need to talk to him—and to Laristella too, and I need time for that.

Ensuring the cleanup ends earlier will give me more time, so that’s one reason I’m helping.

Soon enough, the last dish is dried and stacked away. When my brother climbs the ladder to his room, I tell him, “Don’t go anywhere. I need to talk to you.”

He chuckles. “I’m just going to rest!”

I smile at him. “And you deserve it.”

When the assistant cook leaves, I walk into the serving room, where all the chairs have been put aside. Laristella tosses water and soap on the floor, then uses a broom to scrub it.

“How do you do it?” I ask.

She frowns, then pushes some water out the open door. “Didn’t I teach you how to wash the serving room?”

“Yes, like many things. I mean being alone.”

This time she pauses, and her frown deepens. “I’m not alone. I have friends, clients, suppliers, you two…”

“Single.”

She scoffs. “Well, I have my business, I earn enough. Why would I want trouble?”

“I don’t know.”

“And it’s not like I’m alone, alone. Like I don’t… You know what I mean, and yet I still think you’re the little girl who came knocking here, all those years ago.” She starts scrubbing the floor again.

“Why did you take us in?” I always thought I knew the answer, but now I’m not sure, and I have to ask.