Page 95 of A Fae in Finance
I hung back in the doorway, taking in the rest of the room. A woman rose from a chair by the hearth, a bowl of something in her hands. Behind her along the wall was a wide wood countertop, and open shelves built into the walls, which held earthenware.
There was a backsplash of sorts on the wall, in white porcelain with blue patterning, and a kitchen table in front of another door, which I guessed led into the rest of the house.
“Sahir,” the woman said, “your visit is unexpected.”
“But not unwelcome, I hope,” he said, putting the girl down. “Hello, Rijska.”
When she smiled, I realized they must be siblings. She had the same dimple in her left cheek, the twinkling brown eyes.
If I’d felt up to it, I would’ve felt awkward. As it was, I mostly felt bored.
Rijska held her arms open for him, and he swept her up in the same hug as her daughter. When they broke apart, he kept one arm slung around her shoulder.
“Rijska, I have brought a guest,” Sahir said, gesturing to me. “Please bid her welcome.”
I frowned at him. It sounded suspiciously like the sort of human formality that made him want to rip his own hair out. Was he—was he baiting me?
“I apologize for the intrusion,” I said to her.
Sahir looked almost disappointed.
“You have brought my brother,” she replied, “and this gift is greater than any disruption you may cause.”
I felt something tugging on my shirt and looked down. It was the little girl, her black curls tied back with pink ribbons that matched her eyes.
“You look funny,” she said.
“I know,” I said.
“They would stay for dinner,” Aram said. I had almost forgotten him, lurking in a corner like an imitation coat rack. He’d hung his peacoat up and wore only his tunic now, which was short-sleeved and showed the variegations in color along his arms to his fingers.
“Of course,” Rijska said, and smacked Sahir. Then she glanced at her daughter, her lips twisting like she’d realized she needed to set a better example. “Everly, please set the table.” Without waiting to see whether the girl listened, she turned back to Sahir again. “It has been months, brother. What has kept you away?” She began whacking him repeatedly on the arm in a way that made me ache for Jordan, whose favorite activity was gently hitting his loved ones.
“Ow,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “Rijska, desist, please!”
Everly tugged on me again. “I set the table,” she said, with gravitas. “It’s my task. Would you like to help me?”
I smiled, because who isn’t going to smile at an adorable child solemnly explaining her boring household chores? “Of course,” I said. “I’d love to.” I let her lead me toward the open shelves on the far wall.
“Brother, what has kept you?” Rijska repeated.
Everly pointed imperiously up at the shelves, her ribboned pigtails bobbing. “My pap gets the plates,” she said, “but you can if you want.”
I stood on tiptoe and pulled a stack of plates into my arms.
“Five, correct?” I asked Everly, meaning to put a few back.
“Seven,” Aram said. I glanced back at him—he had taken out a cutting board and begun dicing vegetables.
“I was detained,” Sahir said to his sister. “The Princeling has need of me.”
“The Princeling will scheme for centuries,” she snapped. “Everly is only a child once.”
Everly, who appeared not to be listening, had taken forks from a drawer. She held them in front of her like an exciting multipronged weapon, her tiny pink fingers barely meeting around the bouquet of cutlery.
“Lead the way,” I said to her, nudging her toward the kitchen table.
She chirped, skipped twice, and went right past the kitchen table, through the far doorway.
