Chapter Fourteen #3
“It’s fine,” Daziel said. I stared at him, stomach twisting, and he reached over and squeezed my hand lightning fast. “It’s fine.”
Aunt Tirtzah changed the topic, asking me how the decipherment was going. “I read an interview with your professor in the papers a few days ago,” she said. “Everyone is fascinated by what the scrolls might contain.”
It was not fine. But I managed to answer my aunt. I told her about the scrolls up until dinner. We heated up ratatouille and paired it with garlic soup and fresh bread. For dessert, we had nougat and honey cake and jam-filled donuts.
Then we carried my aunt’s lights out into her garden, placing them in a giant circle around us near the fountain. The glass dome was open, and we craned our necks back, taking in the moon and a few bright planets, before beginning to light the candles and lamps.
“How do your families celebrate?” Aunt Tirtzah asked.
I answered first. “The whole village does the Lumière ceremony together. We walk an hour outside, so there’s no artificial light, and sing the old songs surrounded by candles.
We have a chaotic family celebration the second night—Dad fries up all sorts of things; he’s currently into zucchini fritters—and Michal and Grandma and I decorate, and Mom and Adina make cookies.
” I smiled, the memories bittersweet. I’d never missed a holiday before.
“Selah—she’s eleven—organizes everyone, whether we need organization or not.
” I noticed how intently Aunt Tirtzah was listening.
I strove for an offhand tone. “You could come one year.”
She smiled too brightly. “It’s a long trip. And—I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Except she wouldn’t be imposing, because she was family.
Why haven’t you ever visited? I wanted to ask, but I wasn’t brave enough.
She was the adult. It was her prerogative to decide she didn’t want to see her brother’s family, not mine to question her.
“What about you?” I asked Daziel. Though humans and shedim were inherently different, our religious and ceremonial observances were often the same. “How do you celebrate?”
“We set candles adrift on the winds, and there are light and sound displays. There’s dancing and feasting.” His black eyes connected with mine, bright with flecks of gold. He smiled. “But I like these family meals more.”
I smiled at him, then hesitantly turned to my aunt. “How did you and—your parents spend the festival?” I stumbled over how to refer to my paternal grandparents.
“They were shopkeepers,” Aunt Tirtzah said.
We finished lighting the candles and sat cross-legged on the ground, watching the flames flicker.
“It was always a very busy time for them. Still, on the second or third night, we’d manage a few minutes of candle lighting.
My own grandparents—your great-grandparents—lived in the Judahite arrondissement, and we’d visit them. ”
Her words raised questions I’d never thought of. “Are there other relatives?”
She smiled sadly. “Almost no one is left.”
Ena-Cinnai was so big on family—I certainly had plenty of cousins back on the plains—that it felt strange I hadn’t known about any over here. Sadness washed over me that my aunt didn’t have people to spend the holidays with.
“Anyway,” my aunt said briskly, reaching into the satchel she’d brought outside and lifting gift bags from within. She passed one to me and one to Daziel. “These are for the two of you.”
“Oh,” I said surprised. “Thanks.”
“This is incredibly kind of you,” Daziel said softly.
We unpacked popcorn with chocolate and caramel, a pair of gloves each, and a candle. “Thank you so much,” I said, touched and sorry I hadn’t gotten her anything.
“It’s nothing,” she said briskly. “Just a few trinkets.”
Maybe she’d never felt invited to visit the plains.
When the chill became uncomfortable, we headed inside. It was late, past ten. “We should be getting home,” I said, then hesitated. Aunt Tirtzah had sent her staff home, and I wasn’t sure the tram would be operating today.
She hesitated too. “If you wish—you could stay the night—”
I glanced at Daziel, unwilling to commit him to anything without talking it over first. “We didn’t bring any of our things—but if your driver is gone—”
She smiled. “As it turns out, I’m perfectly capable of driving a neshem carriage myself.”
She drove us back to Testylier House, all three of us crowded on the driver’s bench, my aunt explaining the dials and levers. The sky was unexpectedly clear still. When I watched her drive away, I felt a small pang in my chest at the thought she might be lonely.
Still, I was delighted to be home, ready to curl up in bed and sleep forever, happily sated by dinner and family. I collapsed on the sofa, yawning so widely my mouth hurt.
“I have a gift for you,” Daziel said shyly.
This perked me up. Who didn’t love an unexpected gift? “You do?”
Sitting beside me, he handed over a poorly wrapped bundle. I pulled it apart to reveal a teal-and-pink crocheted scarf, the colors familiar from seeing them wound around Daziel’s crochet hook.
There was a strange wrenching in my heart. I smiled at him, my cheeks hurting. “It’s beautiful.”
“You like it?” He sounded hesitant. “It’s not very professional. I tried, but I’m not very good.”
“Yes. Absolutely.” I wrapped the scarf around my neck, feeling as warmed as though it was a giant blanket, then impulsively squeezed Daziel’s hand. He stared down with surprise. Then he smiled, brighter than the moon.
My throat went dry. I didn’t recognize the feeling in me, the strange bubbling sensation fizzing through every part of my body.
Or maybe I did. Like Jelan had said, we’d spent the last several months cooking and laughing and studying, and though I kept reminding him we weren’t really betrothed, we felt like a couple.
I wanted us to be a couple. I wanted to lean against him, to curl into his side when we read on the sofa.
When we walked to class, I wanted to hold hands.
I wanted to kiss him.
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”
“Maybe later I’ll ask you for a gift,” he said softly.
“Why not now?” I asked just as softly. The space between us felt alive, crackling with energy.
He tilted his head. I was aware of the depth of his eyes, the length of his lashes, the firmness of his mouth. His skin seemed to contain an extra glow, a burnished gold radiating health.
Paz burst out from under a pillow, chirping excitedly as he spied a beetle in the corner of the room and dashed after it.
We burst into laughter, the moment broken.
“I should get ready for bed,” I said, pulling back.
My heart raced as I brushed my teeth and washed my face, as I undid my braids and combed my hair.
Both Daziel and my aunt had been so kind tonight.
They felt like family. It made sense my aunt did, but Daziel—
Daziel felt like family in a very different way.
When I came out, he was curled up in his nest of blankets and cushions.
It struck me how I’d never seen him in a state of undress—even though he owned a million outfits, I’d never seen him change from one to another.
Daziel had always been very careful not to make me uncomfortable inside my own home.
The words burst out quickly, tumbling together. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to one of your knockball games.”
He looked up with unnatural speed. “It’s fine.”
“I don’t think it is. I feel awful.” He did so many nice things for me, I wanted to do something nice for him too. I wanted to show I cared. “Do you…Should I come to your next?”
He stared with obvious surprise. “Do you want to? I know sports aren’t your thing.”
Oh no. I shoved my hands in my pockets. He didn’t want me there. This had been a stupid idea. And he definitely couldn’t be interested in me if he didn’t even want me at his game. “Right. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
“No, I—Naomi.” He took a deep breath, a hint of vulnerability on his face. “Yes. I’d like you to come.”
“Oh,” I said, more upbeat but still nervous. “Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Okay.”
Feeling giddy and confused and a million other things, I turned toward my door. Daziel’s voice stopped me. “Naomi.”
I paused. “Yes?”
He hesitated. “Your hair looks very beautiful down.”
My breath caught. “Thank you,” I said, before throwing myself into my room, where I lay staring at the ceiling, my heart ramming against my chest with confusion and intensity.
I didn’t sleep for a very long time.