Chapter 2
Managing a Meal with Manners
My family’s house was strangely quiet when I arrived.
Coconut fiber twine clung to the teak beams that latticed the porch with greedy fingers.
Palm fronds were mixed with twisted twigs into a drowsy slump of a roof, the watertight resin seal gleaming in the golden hues of sunset’s first gasp.
Mucilage peeked out between the smaller stones that comprised the house’s walls like morsels of food caught between teeth.
A cracked pot of well-tended berries still rested on the porch.
Out of my sister’s bedroom window, a strange man crawled out.
Well, that’s new.
He was entirely focused on whispering through the opened window to Nessa, up until she slid it closed and he turned and noticed me. Shock spread across his face before he gave me a conspirator’s smile and raised a single finger to his lips, dashing away.
I shook myself out of my stupor, approaching the front door. The breeze carried the faint aroma of fish and herbs to my nose. Mama had made dinner.
Opening the door, I wasn't expecting the sight that greeted me.
Mama hadn't just cooked dinner. She'd made a feast, sprinkled with several dishes I had never tried. And many I disliked.
Everfin fish with mayapa marinade and roasted vegetables were laid out in a display that took up the full length of the dining room table.
There was a full rainbow of tropical fruit with coconut dipping sauce.
At the end of the table was the largest taro and sunberry pie I'd ever seen.
It was enough food to feed everyone in our family for multiple weeks.
They had to have saved up for months to afford all this. Even if these weren’t my favorite foods, this was more food than I’d ever seen at once.
Papa’s Medic supplies cluttered every flat surface besides the table, sparse decorations interspersed like tiny treasures. I trailed my fingers over the rough edge of a woven wall hanging Mama had made. The space was well-tended despite the signs of age and wear.
Nessa was the first to notice me–probably having seen me through the window–as she came into the main room from the direction of her bedroom.
She had been an older reflection of myself, but time had wedged changes into her that I didn’t possess.
She was taller than I remembered, and rounder where I’d become leaner.
Her hair was different too, much longer and curlier than it had been before I was imprisoned.
But her face was the same, and when she saw me her hazel eyes brightened immediately, barreling toward me for a crushing hug.
“Lisia!” she squeezed me to her like she didn't ever want to let go.
And based on the tightening of her arms, maybe she wouldn't. Wrapping my arms around her I hugged her back with equal strength. She glanced behind us to make sure no one was within earshot before squeezing me closer. Once my ear was pressed up against her mouth, she hissed a whisper at me. “If you tell Mama about him being here, you’re dead to me.” I smothered a smirk.
Mama and Papa weren't far behind, trailing out of the kitchen when they heard the commotion.
Soon I was buried in a layered embrace from my entire family, and the warmth of it, the sheer love was enough to bowl me over.
A happy laugh gushed out, as I rubbed my face on Nessa's shoulder to get rid of any wetness in my eyes.
Papa released me first, pulling back to look me over for injuries.
“This is…an unexpected surprise! It’s so good to have you back.
” His hands were stiff on my shoulders, gravelly baritone warm.
“You look...stronger.” Noticing the wound on my fingertip, he moved without comment to grab some bandages and wrap my hand.
My lips twisted into a mirthful smile. “A little,” I admitted. He was losing the battle against his graying hairs, they'd turned his locks the hue of faded wheat.
Mama was fussing over me, tucking honey strands of my hair back from my face. This close, I could see she had new wrinkles near the corners of her lips and eyes. The scent of garlic and thornroot clung to her. “We missed you so much,” her voice was choked with emotion. “Every single day.”
An ache bloomed in me, hearing their voices again after so long. I basked in the familiarity. “I missed you guys too,” I leaned into Nessa again, giving her another hug.
Nessa pulled back. “No one is going to ask her how she’s back before her birthday?” Shifting from one foot to the other would make me look guilty, so I resisted the impulse.
“Take what you’re given with thanks,” Papa quoted scripture. Nessa didn’t look appeased.
“We have plenty of food! I will set a place for you,” Mama said. “We have some fresh lemon-water too, if you'd like.”
It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that they weren’t expecting me, but the table was set for four. They were expecting company. Mama pulled a chair from the living room up to the table.
I sat, the familiar chair feeling like an old friend at my back. “Thank you. I am pretty hungry.” I loaded up a plate with food. Nessa plunked an extra heaping of sunberry pie on my plate with a sly side eye. The aroma was mouthwatering.
Someone rapped on the door.
“Jessarian,” Mama greeted as she opened the door. “What fortunate timing! Thank you for agreeing to come on such short notice.”
Abruptly, I was no longer hungry.
“It’s wonderful to see you again, ma’am,” he said with practiced courtesy, stepping into the house.
Everything about him was smooth. His pretty face, his hair without a strand out of place, his graceful movements and effortless charm. If you spat at him it would probably bounce off instead of dirtying his perfect clothes.
Bright emerald eyes landed on me, widening a fraction. “What a treat! I wasn’t expecting you to be joining us, Lisia. Happy Birthday.”
No one bothered correcting him.
He tilted his head, “You should always wear your hair loose, it rounds down your edges.”
Didn’t ask.
He hadn’t changed visually at all since I’d last seen him, still the picture of a sincere betrothed with flawless manners.
“Yeah, this is a real treat.” I bit down on any sarcasm, scratching at my engagement ring.
It chafed against the new callouses I’d earned, uncomfortable and over-tight.
I’d grown since it was originally fitted to my finger.
Maybe he’d grown too, he could be a different person from the betrothed I’d known from childhood. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. And in hindsight, of course this feast was for him. As the son of a Priest, Mama had pulled out all the stops to impress him.
“What was it like in the Reformatory?” Nessa asked me.
Everyone's heads swung in her direction. “Evenessa!” Papa barked.
“What?” she whined, dropping into the chair next to mine.
“It’s alright,” I assured her, swallowing my first bite down past the rising tension in the room. My hunger hadn’t completely left, even if Jessarian’s arrival had diminished my appetite. “It was pretty boring. Mostly hauling rocks.”
I told them about the layout of the cells, a few of the other prisoners and Sentinels I'd met there.
I told them about the limited luxuries we got, like access to cards, books, and materials to write and draw with.
How boring it was, most days spent mindlessly mining without a specific service or purpose.
I told them what they wanted to hear.
What I left out was everything else.
“That sounds truly dreadful,” Jessarian said after I finished. “I can’t imagine being surrounded by so many unsavory characters. Or forced into menial labor! Thank goodness you’re rid of it.”
I shoved a bite of vegetables into my mouth and chewed to keep from mouthing off. I’d done verbal gymnastics to make the Reformatory sound as benign as possible to assuage any guilt Mama or Papa might harbor around my imprisonment, and Jessarian had lit a torch to my efforts.
A glance at my family showed guarded grief twisting their expressions. Mama seemed far away as she stole a look at the cabinet where she used to store nappies.
“It felt so empty when you left, with only us three here. So much quieter without you and...” Nessa shook her head. “I’m really glad you’re back.”
“I hate that I wasn’t around to help. After.” I admitted.
“How you could have allowed yourself to fall prey to such a vulgar crime is beyond me,” Jessarian cut in, proving to everyone present that he never had a clue what was going on.
Just like everyone else. Like we intended.
“And then to raise the spawn?” He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “Ludicrous. Thank the Devourer the Ascendancy restored sanity and brought swift justice.”
Mama squeezed her wooden spoon so tightly that her hand trembled. The building tension in the room ate away at me like slow-acting poison. Jessarian looked between Mama and Papa, a vaguely puzzled crease on his brow. For someone with such impeccable manners, his social-awareness was nonexistent.
Pulling from the depths of my self-control, I grasped for something civil to reply with that would change the subject, distract him, or lighten the mood. “How have you been?” I asked around a mouthful, unapologetic when a bit of something green fell from my open mouth back onto my plate.
Jessarian’s eyes tracked the movement of the food fallout, but I was almost disappointed when he didn’t react.
His sneer of a smile rubbed at me like a shriveled sponge.
“Quite well! Father assures me I’m advancing well in my Priest service training.
Come this time next year, I see no reason I should not be fully ordained. ”
Of course, can-do-no-wrong Jessarian would be a perfect pious Priest like his father in no time.
Priesthood was the third-highest position of authority in the Ascendancy, just below Cardinals and Prelates.
Positions governing Mesmoria as part of the Ascendancy were limited and highly coveted, but nepotized legacy would guarantee Jessarian’s spot.