Page 58 of A Fae in Finance
“There will not be a rest of class,” he said, with perfect confidence.
Caraya and Kellen came in through the cafeteria doors together, Kellen’s angel-white wings tucked against his back. Caraya wore a sparkling golden cape that draped from the points of her black horns down to the floor. It blew out behind her in aclearlymagically manufactured breeze—but the effect was stunning.
They sat together on Lene’s left. Neither of them said anything to me—which I supposed was Sahir’s point, actually. The Fae didn’thavegreetings.
I had a fantastic view of the dining hall doors, which swung open again with force. The Gray Knight stood between them, a glittering silver vision against the darkness of the hallway. Beside her, the Princeling stood at parade rest. She stalked into the room, her clothing glimmering with every step. He followed, a menacing solidity wearing a simple green tunic and made broader by the slight flare of his wings behind his shoulders. The doors didn’t dare swing shut until he’d seated himself at the foot of the table.
Though the table had only had backless stools when he walked in, by the time he situated himself on his chair it had become the silver throne he favored. He shifted on it until he’d assumed his menacing lounge, one knee hooked over an armrest and his lower back pressed to the other.
I watched the way his iridescent green wings hung down and wondered for the first time if he sat that way for comfort as much as for how cool it made him look.
The Gray Knight remained standing behind him, hands clasped. Her tunic had flared sleeves that ended in a tight cuff at the wrists. Her mouth was thinner than usual, a grim unobtrusive line beneath the sharp slash of her nose.
My eyes flicked between them: He hadn’t come to the last class.
“Proceed,” he said, waving a careless hand. Emerald sparks flew when he gestured. He didn’t need to wear jewels when he dripped magic like gemstones from his fingers.
The door swung open again: Gaheris stepped through, the flames on his head slightly subdued and his hand clamped around Schubert’s wrist.
“I hadplannedto scream tonight,” Schubert informed us all. He then sat with great dignity and absolutely no deference to the Princeling.
Milo, having finished his food-related work, joined us at the table.
“Hello, everyone,” I said. “Today we’re going to talk about human greetings in America, the country I’m from.”
The Princeling raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. I didn’t enjoy having him at the foot of the table, eyes intent on me.
“Right,” I said, realizing I’d expected some kind of response. “So, greetings are the way that humans…” I fumbled. “Greet each other.” I glanced at Sahir, hoping for a knight-in-shining-armor rescue.
He—unsurprisingly—sighed. “Humans cannot begin an interaction until they have signaled acknowledgment of each other,” he said. “They have devised an array of incomprehensible rituals, which can be altered and adapted to declare mood, conversational intent, and even level of intimacy. If you do not greet a human in a way that they expect, they take it as a sign of rudeness or disrespect.”
“I do not believe I asked Sahir to lead this class, lady,” the Princeling said. He’d conjured a thin green vine, which he coiled and uncoiled around his fingers as he spoke.
I glanced at Sahir, who rolled his eyes.
“Thank you for that summary, Sahir,” I said. I wanted the Princeling to go away. “So, as Sahir said, we signal acknowledgment at the start of every interaction. That’s agreeting. I’ll teach you a simple one to start.”
I turned my attention to the Princeling. “May I involve Sahir in a demonstration, my lord?” I asked, a bit of bite in my voice.
He inclined his head. “As you wish.”
“Great. Sahir, let’s stand up.” I pushed my stool from the table and stood. Sahir stood, too, making the face that meantI regret giving you any support, moral or otherwise. I held my hand out to him and he shook it, once, like I’d handed him a dead fish.
“Hello, Sahir. How are you?” I glanced back at the table. Lene and Kellen were both watching with lively interest. Caraya had engaged Schubert in what appeared to be a thumb war, though it didn’t look like either of them had exactly five fingers. Gaheris was staring dreamily into the middle distance.
“I am well, Miri, thank you for asking. How are you?”
The Princeling was also watching his subjects intently.
“I am well, Sahir.” I turned back to the table. “So that’s how you greet someone. Once you’ve done that, you can start whatever conversation you want.”
Kellen, Lene, Caraya, and Milo all spoke up at once—
“But why would you do this?”
“What if you cannot say you are well?”
“Why did you touch hands in this strange fashion?”
