27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kyrielle: I’d like to ask my first question today.
Trinte: What is it?
Kyrielle: Come do something with me first.
Trinte: That wasn’t a part of the agreement.
Kyrielle: I figure we should do a trade. I ask you something about yourself, and you learn something about me.
Trinte: And if I don’t want to?
Kyrielle: Then you don’t have to.
Trinte: Where and at what time?
***
It’s chilly today, with a cold front moving in through the floating city. Igniting flames in my palms, I rub them together, looking for blue scales. Today, I’m introducing Trinte to something that’s important to me. I figure it’s a fair exchange.
A week has passed since the battle. We’ve sent no texts, and I avoided the gym. More to rest from the expense of healing energy required.
My instincts also tell me he needed space.
It was a side of him never revealed before.
None of it scares me. I’m learning the more angry and standoffish he gets, the more scared he is.
Not unlike an injured animal. I know what it’s like being there.
Today, I hope to help show him something that helped me move on.
The flap of wings catches my attention. A brilliant blue Dragon lands on four thick legs. Hidden in his bi-pedal form, deadly spikes spear up from his spine and head. A vicious looking barbed tail slams into the landing platform. Smoke trails from his nostrils.
As if he can sense my gaze, Trinte turns his triangular head in my direction, his good eye reptilian in this form.
He’s stunning. I mean, he’s stunning in both forms, but since this is the first time I’ve seen him in all of his reptilian glory, I allow myself a moment of silent appreciation at his breadth of power.
There’s a shimmer and Trinte appears, face devoid of emotion. He doesn’t look happy to see me.
Even if he won’t smile, that won’t stop me from giving him one. His gaze immediately homes in on my lips before looking away.
“I’m here,” he says dully.
An unexpected wave of sadness roots into my heart. It feels like every time I see Trinte, there’s a bit less of him. Wasting away by the day. My hand twitches, desperate to grab one of his. There’s no way he’ll tolerate it, so I make fists and stuff them into my puffy jacket.
Jerking my head toward the building behind me, I say, “Let’s go or we’ll be late.”
“Late for what?” There’s a spark of interest that’s immediately snuffed out.
Grinning, I lead him to the front door.
“What are we doing here, Kyrielle?”
He frowns when I open the door for him. I motion for him to keep walking. A muscle feathers in his jaw; he’s probably pissed that I opened the door for him.
Instead of walking in, he says evenly, “Kyrielle, you’re trying my patience.”
Undeterred, I sweep a hand forward. “Come on. Let me show you how I spend my time.”
Trinte’s lips thin. “You assume I care.”
His blunt words wound far deeper than I realized he could hurt me. Biting down my quavering lip, I motion a little more impatiently, not trusting my voice.
Giving me a long look, he walks inside. Taking a fortifying breath, I follow.
“What the Hells is this place?” He sounds surprised.
“A homeless shelter.”
Trinte looks at me sharply. “You spend time at a homeless shelter?”
I shrug, leading him to the sign-up table. “I stayed here sometimes for a few months before Talia took me in as her own. I come here to help with meals.”
“You were homeless?” The tone of his voice is softer; more curious.
I stop at the end of the line. “About six months. It was right after I ran away from home.”
Trinte is silent, and I’m too cowardly to discover what his expression might be.
“This is where you find the women.” It’s not a question. Finally, I’m brave enough to look at him. His expression takes my breath away. It’s so open, curious, and vulnerable. Instantly, I want to cry for him. Trinte is hiding so much, more than I think anyone will ever know.
“Yeah. This is where I find people to help.” Fighting back the tears of empathy, I continue. “I wish there had been someone out there like me ready to kick my step-dad’s ass. So I became who younger me needed.”
“That’s admirable,” he murmurs.
Offering a crooked grin, I say, “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Hey Kyri!” Sieve, the project manager, sits at the check-in table. He’s an older Elf with scraggly white hair shooting out from the sides of his head, leaving a shining slap of skin on top.
“Hey Sieve! This is my friend, Trinte. He’s joining us to serve dinner tonight.”
Sieve stands and offers his hand to Trinte. “Welcome, Trinte. We can use every extra hand.” Sieve examines him quickly. “You okay with manual labor?”
“Yes?” Trinte frowns, shooting me a confused look.
I laugh. “I think they’re going to take advantage of those big muscles.”
A teeny tiny smile quirks at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t let the meathead be lazy.”
“Exactly my thoughts,” Sieve announces. To me, he says, “We need someone on rolls, pasta, or protein. Your pick.”
“On it,” I say cheerfully. Trinte gives me a pained look, then follows Sieve to the storage rooms.
After greeting my friends, I choose the rolls section. Service hasn’t started yet, so I help unpack plates and silverware. When the bell sounds, signalling the beginning of dinner, I return to the bowl of bread, picking up a pair of tongs.
Families stream in through the double doors, kids chattering loudly. Some hop in excitement. I match their energy in my expression, loving their enthusiasm. Most of the shelter is dedicated to families.
Knowing so many of them, I pause to talk to each one. Some linger to tell a quick story, and most of the kids ask for my daily joke. Each time I come in, I have a new joke ready.
Fillipe, a fellow Fire Sprite, bounds up, paper plate flapping in the air. “Kyri! Kyri! Joke! Give me the joke!”
His red fingertips steady the plate as I place a roll on top. “Why did the Dragon cross the road?”
He squeezes an eye shut, contemplating an answer. “I don’t know. Why?”
“To burn the other side!” I say with glee.
Fillipe bounces on the balls of his feet, laughing hysterically. It’s overdramatic, but still makes me laugh. “Another! Another!”
“Sorry, buddy. I don’t have another one ready.”
A deep voice next to me says, “Why did the Dragon wink at the blacksmith?”
I grin at Trinte, who’s appeared out of nowhere.
Fillipe shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“He said he liked someone who could handle the heat.” Trinte winks at me. Winks! Hope is a small, blooming kernel in my heart, even as my emotions don’t know what to do with themselves. His mood changes could give a stone whiplash.
While Fillipe moves down the line, I ask, “Was moving bags of rice fun?”
“Absolutely titillating,” he says dryly. “You’re out here having all the fun, apparently. I didn’t know you told jokes.”
I chuckle. “I have a book of jokes that I pull inspiration from. It’s expected now.”
Trinte’s mouth quirks. “I like that.”
“You like something?”
“You’re my penance for spending my entire life torturing Fynn, aren’t you?” he says flatly, but he can’t hide the small smile breaking through.
I bat my eyelashes. “Penance. Reward. Depends on perspective.”
He grunts in amusement, grabbing a pair of tongs. “Perspective, indeed.”
As dinner continues, I introduce him to the families. Some have been here too long; so long, I’ve seen some of these five-year-olds grow up.
Toward the end of the line, a frail woman approaches, eyeing Trinte nervously. He’s bigger than basically everyone here, minus some male Orcs. She clutches her elbows, shoulders bowed as she shuffles forward. Her black, curly hair is in need of a good wash.
The haunted, hollow look in her eyes tells me everything I need to know. After years, I can sniff it out instantly. When she holds out a plate, I say quietly, “Hi, I’m Kyrielle.”
Her brown eyes shoot to Trinte, full of fear. I sense him take a few steps back.
“Janeeka.” Her voice trembles.
Giving Trinte a meaningful look, I place the tongs on the table and motion for Janeeka to step out of line. While Trinte passes out the rolls, I bring Janeeka off toward a quiet spot. The plate trembles in her hands.
“How long have you been here, Janeeka?” I murmur, taking stock of the faded bruises.
“Two days.”
I frown. “Are you being followed?”
The way her eyes dart everywhere but my face, the answer is obvious. She nods. “My husband.”
Old, nurtured anger rises. “What’s his name?”
“Laurice.”
“Species?”
“Forest Sprite.”
I take extra pleasure in taking care of Forest Sprites — as if I can retroactively save my younger self. “Is he searching for you?”
“Yes.”
I pull out my phone. “Do you need anything from home?”
“Yes, my mother’s wedding ring, and some other heirlooms." Janeeka shakes her head as her voice rises with panic. "But I don’t want to go back there.”
“Okay, it’s okay,” I place a hand against her elbow. A safe, but small gesture. “I can go for you, if you want. Just make a list.”
She looks me up and down with a look of disbelief. “You?”
I laugh, then point at Trinte. He catches my motion and frowns. Grinning, I cup my mouth and shout, “Who won that fight last week, Gleanscale?”
People all around us look up, curious for the answer. Shaking his head, Trinte chuckles. “We both did.”
Looking at Janeeka, I smirk. “I tied with that Dragon last week in hand-to-hand and elemental combat. I can take care of a Forest Elf while eating a piece of cake and not spilling a crumb.”
“Okay,” she says reluctantly. “If you’re positive?”
“One hundred percent.”
Handing her my phone, I wait for her to give the address and a list of items. She gives me a key for the front door. When she’s done, I rejoin Trinte as she finishes collecting her meal.
“What’s that all about?” he murmurs, smiling as a small toddler makes grabbing motions with her hands for a roll.
“Do you want to go kick a dunghole’s ass later?” I mutter, trying to not let anyone else hear my words.
“All the goddess damned time,” he jokes.