Chapter 13 #2
Araxis said nothing for a long moment, then he fluted out a soft sound. "That is reasonable, Sashen. Yes, I agree. I hope that, as Rodil comes to trust us both more, they will be able to be more forthright."
"And you understand why I don't want you to come," I said, although it was a question.
"I believe I understand. Of course you will want time… away from me." His jaw tensed, his stare still somewhere in the space behind our bed, unable to settle on me. "Of course you want that. Would you consider taking Elethenn, then?"
I groaned, scrubbing my hands over my face and rolling over so that my back was to him. "I don't need a bodyguard, Araxis," I said.
"I would suggest the same to any creche-mate who was travelling out of Verdant Ward," Araxis insisted behind me. "And the guards in Radiant Ward will not be helpful if there are any issues. It is only good sense. I would do the same myself."
And, look, I'm not an idiot: he was right.
I'd been followed, attacked, and things had nearly gone very badly.
If Elethenn hadn't tailed me, I'd have lost a finger at the very least – and they might have actually killed me.
So I knew that, and I also knew that this was exactly the opposite of what I wanted.
"It would also be beneficial for Elethenn to… refresh his skill set," Araxis tried. "It has been some time since he trained for the kind of work he will do with Creche Thiel."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Yeah, sure," I ground out. "He can come. But Tam's expensive, so prepare yourself for the bill. And I don't even know if he'll want to bring on another client right now. I'll ask though."
"Thank you," said Araxis quietly, before he crawled past me and settled into bed.
And I was irritated and off-balance and horny and confused, all at the same time, so it should have been impossible for me to fall asleep – but I did and, against all odds, I slept well that night.
And if I woke in the middle of the night to find myself curled up against Araxis, my head on his chest, his hand gently stroking my hair while he stared at the ceiling with dark eyes, unsleeping, well.
I guess we all had a lot on our minds that week.
* * *
"So, you're coming along this morning?" I took a seat at the dining room table where Adrathi and Sadin were currently squabbling over a bowl with slices of some fermented fruit, while Talvi had their nose buried in a book on animals from – I glanced at the cover – a brin garden world.
The cover reminded me of the first room Araxis and I had walked through at the botanical gardens.
It felt like a dream, even though it had just been yesterday.
Elethenn stood behind the counter, a pot simmering on the stove while he watched the children with a strained expression, shoulders hunched as if he'd done something wrong.
"Yes, Sashen," he said, tearing his mismatched stare away from Sadin and Adrathi who had come to some sort of compromise that involved taking alternating bites of the final slice of fruit.
"Araxis has said you're fond of dasha. Is that true? "
I nodded, reaching and pouring myself a cup of tea. It was strong and bracing stuff, exactly what I needed to get this day underway.
"I have also made you toast," Elethenn added. He said the word in English, clearly quite proud. I looked up as he prepared a tray, moving to set it down in front of me. Beside the steaming bowl of dark soup rested a dry triangular wedge of something resembling toast.
Honestly, Elethenn had been like this more or less all week: nervous, uncertain, ingratiating, like he expected to be hit at any moment.
I'd known kids like that back on Seraphim, and I hated it – not that I hated Elethenn, but that someone had made him feel like that.
He still had a hard time meeting Araxis's stare; he had a hard time meeting mine, although I'd overheard him chatting amicably with Avelthe, which struck me as something that ought to have been impossible.
Araxis, of course, was nothing but kind – he was kind to everyone and Elethenn was no exception, despite the fact that Araxis had thought he'd been trying to steal me away – but I'd seen the way Elethenn couldn't look at him directly, how he didn't believe Araxis's words of encouragement when he set out food or made trays of tea.
So I was probably an acceptable proxy through which to access Araxis's approval.
As soon as Elethenn had learned that, much like an abayan child, I needed regular meals throughout the day, he had set himself to assuring there was always food waiting for me.
And he'd thrown himself into learning as much about human food as possible.
Hence –
I smiled and picked up the slightly charred slice of bread after downing the bulk of the dasha.
Bread at least was nearly universal, even if flour varied vastly across species.
This one looked like it had been made with a brin equivalent, which was more or less right: a bit nuttier, a touch more sour.
So I gamely ate my dry piece of toast while Elethenn watched me closely.
"It's great," I said around a mouthful of crumbs.
"Sometimes I'll even have toast with jam.
If we have any stewed fruits, or something? "
The next slice was slathered in a fruit sauce – sweet and unctuous – that I was particularly fond of, and I turned my attention to the children.
Talvi had finished flipping through their book and was buried in a second one they had produced from their bag.
I'd seen the children's nest and knew that Talvi was amassing quite a collection, many borrowed from school, where the head teacher was of the opinion that everyone spent too much time staring at screens and surrounded by polymer and metal, and not nearly enough time with real materials.
I didn't disagree: I hadn't seen a living tree until I was 25 and I could definitely attest to the fact that I was a fucking mess.
How could I say for sure that those who things weren't related?
Sadin and Adrathi had moved on from squabbling about breakfast, and instead were arguing about who was going to take the one leftover steamed bun for lunch today.
"You had an extra yesterday," Adrathi whined, reaching to grab for the teal bag in which one of the lunches was packed.
"Did not," snapped Sadin, his crest rustling quietly behind him.
In the nearly six weeks we'd been on station, he'd grown even taller, his arms now longer than his hatch-mate's, so he reached out and pushed the bag away from Adrathi's grasping fingers.
"Besides, I'm growing more than you. I need the bun to help! "
I chewed on my piece of toast, watching them, and spared a glance for Elethenn, his face predictably tight with distress. I could hear the distant whine from his throat. No doubt he was berating himself for not making more.
"It sounds like no one might get that bun for lunch," I said around my last mouthful of toast. "If we can't reach a reasonable agreement, I'm going to take it out.
You should be grateful you get such good lunches.
" And then, because I was always working on my abayan and because the children loved nothing so much as correcting me, I asked, "Have you thanked our Elethenn? "
Adrathi trilled with delight, clapping her hands. "Our Sashen is so silly!" she said in bright abayan.
I glanced at Elethenn, who had gone silver. "Our Elethenn," he corrected gently while Adrathi continued to chortle. "You implied that I had declared for you."
"Whoops. Sorry." I sighed, pulling up my language document with a flick and adding a note about pronunciation, and then I tried again. "Sadin, Adrathi," I said patiently, "have you thanked our Elethenn?"
Sadin shot me a look that could generously be described as a glower. But I was used to that by now and held his stare, steady, until he ducked his head, shoulders hunching as his crest rippled.
"Thank you very much, Elethenn," Adrathi chirped, clearly sensing that she was at an advantage. "Your steamed buns are my favourite."
Standing by the bank of cabinets, Elethenn silvered a little more, and Sadin soon followed Adrathi's example with a much less chipper thank you.
In the end, they decided it was best to split the bun in half, which had been my hope.
Like always, it was a mad scramble to finish the last bites of breakfast and grab lunches and shove belongings into packs.
Elethenn, for his part, had the kitchen tidied and the food put away and was waiting by the door, hands clasped behind his back, by the time I'd wrangled all the children into the front hallway and double-checked that they had their lunches and schoolbags and were wearing shoes.
They were still tricky with shoes; Sadin said they made his feet sad.
I suspected their school might even encourage running around barefoot, but you didn't do that while walking around on a station, abaya or not.
I opened the door and nudged the children into the semi-enclosed walkway that opened to a view of the boulevard down below.
We made it all of three steps before Talvi screeched, horrified.
"I forgot my show and share," they yelped, turning and bolting back into our home.
I sighed, stare drifting upwards, as if praying to my ancestors for patience in the same way Silver Sea had often done back at the complex.
Although, really, my ancestors would probably hate everything about me, so I instead thought about Silver Sea's ketaari progenitors and wondered if they might take pity on a lowly human.
Next to me, Elethenn let our a soft breath, amused.
"We're going to be late," Sadin said grimly, his hands holding the straps of his bag. "Teacher Kekobu said that if we're late again –"