Page 85 of Minor Works of Meda

“You could at least try to enjoy yourself.”

“The world just kept right on going for you, didn’t it?” he said bitterly, and wrenched his arm from my grip.

“Kalcedon…” I said wearily. “Don’t do that. If you’re mad, tell me why. I’m no good at figuring these things out.”

“I’m in no mood.”

“Alright. Well, do you want—”

“No. Go have fun with your friend,” he said, and vanished into his room. The door slammed loud behind him, making me flinch.

If he were jealous of Oraik, he had no reason to be. But Kalcedon clearly didn’t want to talk to me right now, and I wasn’t about to pound down his door to defend myself. Feeling a little hurt—I’d started to think he would never push me away—I went to my room, peeled off my shoes, and perched at the end of my bed.

I didn’t want to be alone. I felt uncomfortable; off balance with Kalcedon at my throat. I got back up and padded down the hall in search of company.

At Oraik’s door I lifted my hand to knock. The knob turned before I made contact, then swung inward. Oraik yelped to see me there, and threw one hand up defensively. He was unmasked, his thick curls loose around his head. When he realized it was just me, he clasped the hand to his heart and laughed in relief.

“I was coming to talk to you,” I blurted. “I’m sorry. If you’re headed elsewhere…”

He cleared his throat. “I was going to find you too, actually. Come in?”

I walked into the small room and sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling with my hands. What if Oraik pushed me away, too? What if they both grew to hate me, and never stopped? I had learned long ago not to get close to others. Why had I let myself forget that lesson, lately? Didn’t I know better?

“About earlier. Are you alright?” I blurted, desperate to show I wanted to stay his friend.

He shrugged. “It was just hotter than I expected.”

“No, not the pepper-cake!” I laughed. “I meant… earlier. I didn’t want to ask at dinner, in case… well, if you’d rather not talk about it in front of Kalcedon.” We still hadn’t discussed when Oraik stormed off in the afternoon.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh. Right. That. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“No, no. It’s fine. If I’d been through that… if my family was like that…”

Oraik nodded. He lay down on the bed beside me, lounging on his side with a moody, solemn look on his face. With a dramatic sigh, the prince traced circles on the blanket.

“My father just… it’s hard. It hurts. I wasn’t ready to be alright.”

“Are you now?” I asked. Oraik sighed again.

“No. I don’t think so. Maybe I won’t be for a while.” He shrugged, paused, and gave me a glowing smile, one that reached ear to ear. “But I’m ready to pretend I am, at least!”

“You don’t have to pretend with me. If you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I do,” he said, still grinning as wide as his face would let him. “In fact, I would gladly pretend hard enough to change the conversation now, with many thanks.”

He laughed. Assuming it must be funny, even though I didn’t get it, I laughed too. Then he shook his head.

“I hated the thought of you being angry with me,” I told him. He rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes, friends get angry. What of it? That’s life. You said something stupid, and I’m ready to forget it.”

“Good,” I said. “I couldn’t bear it, if you and Kalcedon both…”

“What did he do?” Oraik asked sharply.

“Nothing. He’s just in a mood.”

“Is he ever not? Meda, I’m worried about you,” Oraik said quietly. “The two of us… we could run away right now. We could be on a ship and he wouldn’t know ‘till morning. How about Thianthi?”

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