Chapter 8 – Cosmic Alignment #2
It wasn't a nice memory, how famished I'd been, how I tried to stretch the hours and days between powdered rations, how I'd gotten used to the dizzying throb in my head whenever I stood up or moved too quickly.
My wrists had looked like they might snap, and all the while my body kept trying to grow taller and taller.
I picked up the dumpling and popped the whole thing in my mouth. At once, spice and heat burst on my tongue, acidity balanced by a warm pat of fat. I made a surprised, delighted sound that was halfway to a moan. "This is ridiculous," I said around my mouthful. "You made this."
He flushed silver next to me. "You must tell me what you like best, and what you don't like. I'm unfamiliar with human tastes – Well." I could hear the rest of his thought, even if he couldn't say it. He certainly understood my tastes when it came to him.
"Tell me about what I'm eating," I said, gesturing around the plate before scooping up some green vegetable – bitter, in a sour sauce that was incredibly refreshing, even if it made my cheeks feel a bit raw.
Araxis took direction well, and he began telling me a little about each dish: which ones were abayan and what they were made of; which ones were fermented, which were fresh, the order they were best eaten in.
He explained which foods had been adopted from other cultures, and which ones he had found were easiest to make on a ship that was so often anchored in deep space, far from any stations.
He told me what things the children refused to eat, and who complained most loudly when he cooked his favourites because the scent of the steam lingered for days.
I cleared my plate, not even trying: it was all good, and even the dishes that I found a little challenging on their own – a seaweed that was a bit astringent and gelatinous, a dark fermented bean that made my eyes water, the little fried beetles in a glossy, spice-forward sauce – were intriguing when eaten with other dishes.
I'd never eaten so well, not even when I'd stolen scraps from the table at one of Alet Trident's VIP lunar eclipse celebrations, where the food alone had cost more than I made in a month.
I reached for more, and Araxis caught my wrist. "Let me," he said, and he carefully reached and refilled my plate.
This time, he chose the dishes I had found most delicious, although I hadn't said as much, quick to compliment everything he had put before me.
He must have been watching, observing this whole time.
His nose wrinkled with amusement as I sighed contentedly around a mouthful of dumpling, and I knew, in even the darkest corners of my body, perfect contentment.
This was a gift. He was a gift. I needed to cherish every second of this.
It was like the universe, knowing what was coming, had decided to give me something sweet, just this once; something I could hold on to in the end.
Something to soften the blow of what was surely waiting for me once we arrived in the Thenat cluster.
Except I didn't want to leave this reverie. I wanted, desperately, to stay right here: stay in this evening, in this quiet room, with this perfect person who looked at me with eyes that glittered like the universe beyond.
"Did you want more, or is it time for tea?" he murmured as I finished my second plate.
I was tempted to keep eating, but I had hopes for what I might get to sample after we left the dining room, so I exercised the restraint that was crumbling moment by moment. "Tea, I think."
He rose, collecting our plates, his hip brushing my shoulder as he slid past. My mouth was suddenly dry. "Let me help," I started, shifting to my knees.
"Sit," Araxis said, firm, with a heated look over his shoulder.
I sat, and watched the line of his back disappear into the kitchen beyond. I heard clicking as the stove turned on; though the lights were dim, I could see flashes of movement as he readied a teapot, moving around the space with the same ease he had in the training room below.
There was a quiet sound behind me. I twisted and saw two familiar faces lingering in the doorway.
As soon as I made eye contact with Talvi, they scurried around the corner and dropped down on the floor next to me, their eyes big and black and wide with curiosity.
"You smell like Araxis," they said plainly, reaching and plucking a dumpling with their pale little fingers from one of the bowls.
"That's rude," hissed Adrathi, who had lost her shyness around me two days earlier and so crawled directly into my lap.
She reached for the closest bowl, just beyond her fingertips, so I shifted and pulled it a little closer.
Her trill vibrated against my chest as she pulled the bowl into her lap and started eating pieces of a sweet white vegetable.
"It's not rude because I'm not saying what Sashen smells like.
I said who. Right, Sashen?" Seeing Adrathi's approach, Talvi grabbed two bowls and hauled them to the edge of the table so that they could stuff their face with the remaining dumplings and the last bits of a fermented grain that had been rolled into tiny balls and fried.
"I like that you're curious," I said, watching as Talvi scarfed down food faster than I would have expected. What would I do if they choked? "Your Araxis let me borrow his jacket. Hey, slow down."
"Yeah," said Adrathi around a crunchy mouthful. "And our Vivith says you should share. Talvi, trade me."
They carefully exchanged dishes, helped by my steady hand, and Adrathi snuggled harder against my chest. Her braided crest dug into the skin of my clavicle.
She twisted suddenly, poking her head out beneath my elbow to stare at the doorway, nose scrunching.
"Come eat," she insisted. "Don't just stare. "
I turned my head, and saw Sadin lurking in the shadows, shoulders hunched, his unbound crest rustling just slightly. He scowled when he saw me looking. Well, you couldn't win them all, but…
I patted the floor on my other side, and then gently nudged the bowl with the spicy beetles to the edge of the table.
Sadin's bare feet made soft padding sounds as he walked across the room and dropped down to the floor next to me.
He tugged the bowl closer and started crunching on the beetles in their shiny sauce.
"Why's your crest like that?" asked Adrathi, twisted now so that she was facing my chest and staring upwards at my face.
"It's not a crest. It's hair."
"And why is your face like that, up above your eyes?"
"Also hair."
She reached up a hand, still a bit sticky from picking away at the food.
"Adrathi, have you asked?" Araxis held a tray with a steaming pot of tea and five little cups, each one small enough to fit in one hand. There was also a shallow bowl, sitting atop a folded piece of fabric – that was new.
Adrathi rocked back a little, sitting herself in the dip where my ankles crossed, frowning.
Talvi had since squirmed to their feet and come to stand by my shoulder. "Sashen, can I touch your hair?"
I glanced at Araxis, who settled back on his cushion, my eyebrows raised. Was this okay? He smiled and raised one shoulder in a very abayan approximation of a shrug; the smallest smile curved his lips, almost hidden away.
He looked delighted, but like he was afraid he might ruin it if he breathed wrong.
"Go ahead," I said, and at once two children reached and began stroking my head. Talvi trilled with laughter, Adrathi purring a sweet, rumbly sound of pleasure.
"It's soft!" she cried, and then she poked at my eyebrow, wrinkling her nose happily. "These ones are so short." She let her hands follow my eyebrows, and then she poked and prodded her way down to my jaw. "How come it's different here?"
"I grow hair there too. I usually cut it off."
"Like claws," Adrathi said sagely. "What happens if you don’t?"
"Nothing. It just grows longer."
"Like these?" She poked my eyebrows.
"No, those only grow that long."
"Why?"
"I don’t know."
"How come you cut this part?" My jaw again.
"I like how I look without it."
"Why?"
Araxis caught my eye and interceded before I fell into the abyss of an endless string of whys. "Adrathi, I am pouring tea. Take a seat. No, that seat cannot be Sashen's lap. He only has one and that's hardly fair to the others."
"I don't want to sit there anyway," grumbled Sadin as Adrathi whined while she squirmed away and came to sit on the floor, still half-draped across my knee.
"That's a relief," I sighed. "I think you might crush me. I'd become a liquid."
Araxis's mouth twitched. Sadin stared at me, wide-eyed. "I wouldn't crush you! I'm not that big!"
I shook my head. "I've seen how tall you are, and Talvi told me you can lift them. You're probably made of pure muscle. I don't think I'd survive."
"I am made of clouds," Adrathi hummed. She took the cup Araxis had set before her in both hands and slurped, purring in pleasure. "So I wouldn't crush Sashen."
"Sashen says I'm made of – of –" Talvi blinked up me, a look of panic flashing over their face. I could see the cogs turning: what was lighter than pure muscle, but more substantial than clouds?
"You're made of mischief," I supplied. "And dumplings."
Sadin trilled next to me. "You are made of dumplings."
"Well, Sashen loves dumplings! Right, Sashen?"
"Sure do." I reached and took the cup Araxis held out to me, my fingers holding his for a moment. Our eyes met, my mouth curving in a smile – something intimate, and it made me feel cracked open and as if he were holding me, all at the same time. His hand slid away reluctantly.
A spike of cold jolted my hip, and I hissed, twisting, to find Adrathi had stuck her bare feet under the hem of my shirt. Araxis trilled a sharp, surprised laugh. "Adrathi," he cried, "You know better!"