four #2
Sonall was the one who answered. “My wife stocks it. It’s one of her favorites. Suppose Heary thought it might be to your tastes.”
“Too bad she’s not here to enjoy it,” Jacelah muttered. “Your wife, I mean.”
Mira once again sensed the tension between mother and son. Something about his wife sets her on edge. Interesting. At least there was entertainment included with their stay.
Mira wouldn’t get to know much more about it, though.
They were soon shown to their room, where their belongings had been deposited by the guards.
She decided to take a bath while her mother unpacked and called her husband to let him know where they were.
Mira could have called someone, too, but decided against it.
Who would I call? Her father? Her grandmother?
Better to seal herself up in the bathroom and not think about any of them at all.
Her mother had already gone back downstairs when Mira emerged from the bath over an hour later. There was a note on the bed about dinner being at dusk. Mira glanced outside and saw the sun already gunning for twilight.
She knew she should wear something pleasant for her first dinner with the Gardiahs, but it wasn’t like she had brought anything nice for a pilgrimage.
At other places, they had asked for sanctuary around the Federation, Mira had made do with her best tunic and trousers, and she would have to do the same thing now.
At least I have some clean clothes. Kema and Hannu had taken it upon themselves to launder the party’s clothes, due to sorcery making it so much easier than manually washing wherever they could find clean water.
What a travesty that I can’t wash my own underwear.
In truth, Mira had no idea how to do laundry in a machine.
Either someone else did it for her, or she used sorcery to agitate water and soap through her dirty clothes.
The last button had fastened just above her breasts when someone knocked on the door.
“Just one second.” Mira had almost forgotten to say that in Basic, let alone loudly enough for someone else to hear. “I’m getting decent!”
She donned her golden chain with the zatbah stone.
It was the one nice piece of jewelry Mira had brought with her on this journey.
Might as well have something for nights like these.
She almost pulled her hair back into a small ponytail, but left it down at the last minute.
After running her hand through her bangs to keep them swept to one side, Mira approached the door and greeted whoever had been sent to fetch her for dinner.
Her breath momentarily left her lungs.
“There’s that one person who will make your heart flutter,” her mother had once told Mira when she was young enough to be easily heartbroken. “You won’t be expecting them. But when you meet them, it’ll be like asking the Void, ‘Oh, took you long enough to get here, huh?’”
It was her way of explaining how she felt when she first met Mira’s father at the Academy.
And was meant to assuage her daughter’s worries that she would never find the same pure, wonderful love that Joiya had experienced from a young age.
Getting your heart broken a few times in the Academy will do that to you.
Besides, how would Joiya know anything about same-sex love?
That was all Mira had known since she was old enough to want to kiss other girls, starting with a young visitor to her family’s estate.
This was after my tutor took advantage of me, of course.
But back then, Mira was simply grateful to have some experience under her belt when she flirted with a girl visiting from another House.
Mira glanced down at the stone on her chest. Was it glowing? Or was that her heart?
“Hello…” She had to keep herself from leaning against the doorframe with such a fine-looking woman standing before her. “And who might you be?”
The young woman with short blond hair and eyes green enough to pull Mira into a fantastic spring meadow didn’t move.
Nor did she say anything at first, as if she also looked Mira up and down and judged her in that instant.
Like what you see? Because Mira did. Humans didn’t often do much for her, nor were they practical for dating since they died so damn quickly, but this woman?
Here? She looks like one of the maids’ daughters.
Having enough run of the estate while not explicitly being “off limits.”
Mira didn’t see a ring on any fingers. Then again, she was perpetually distracted by those little dimples at the corners of this woman’s mouth, and the way the finely crafted blouse she wore accentuated her clavicle and breasts.
The poufy, circular sleeves clinging to her shoulders were also engaging to Mira’s eye.
What a quiet femininity the Void has gifted me. Mira should be on her best behavior. After all, if she were to be lost in those hazel eyes, she might as well be a consummate guest.
“Supper is ready.” Although she spoke plainly, there was a soft timbre to such an interesting voice.
Already, Mira liked the idea of replaying it in her head as she went to bed that night.
“If you wouldn’t mind following me downstairs… your mother is already…”
She cleared her throat, fist in front of her mouth as she bent her head.
After apologizing, she met Mira’s lascivious gaze once more.
“What’s your name?” Mira asked.
“Sulim.”
Oh, so it’s you. The one Lady Jacelah had crowed for earlier. The one who had to bathe because she was covered in equine afterbirth. “Sulim…?” Mira prompted for a family name.
Sulim had to think about it for some reason. “Sulim di’Graelic.”
“Well, Sulim, it is awfully kind of you to escort me down to dinner. It sounds like my mother’s already there?”
“Yes, as well as another woman from your group.”
“Kema, I’m guessing. Yes, she’s one of my distant cousins.”
“She does look a lot like you, yes, Young Lady Dunsman.”
Mira almost recoiled from that. “Ugh. Is that what they told you to call me?”
She stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“Please. Anything but my mother’s married name. I go by Mira Lerenan when I can get away with it.”
She paused. Sulim did not move ahead to lead the way. “Actually, just call me Mira. Please.”
“Of course. You may call me Sulim.”
Finally, they headed down the hallway, Mira one step behind and to the side, as she didn’t want to presume where they were going. “You don’t have the same accent as the others around here. You say words like ‘you’ with more emphasis. Are you from Arrah?”
They reached the stairs, Mira letting Sulim go ahead. “No. I grew up on Qahrain, near Terra III. The accent is similar.” She paused, both in voice and step. “To Terra III, I mean. Despite Qahrain being quite rural all over. We’re called a bedroom planet for a reason.”
“Of course.” Mira stashed that information away.
So, she’s from another planet? Not a local?
Interesting. Maybe she wasn’t the daughter of a maid, after all, but had pursued employment in a place that paid more.
If Sulim was out there helping with the horses, she must have been quite suited for the Gardiahs to place so much faith in her.
At the bottom of the stairs, they encountered one of the maids whom Mira had erroneously assumed was Sulim’s family.
The maid curtsied at Mira’s presence and asked Sulim a question.
The way Sulim responded was mixed with command and respect, although she spoke so softly that Mira couldn’t quite make out what she said.
The view is too nice, anyway. Standing far enough back allowed Mira’s gaze to wander down Sulim’s back and take in the muscular…
well, she had a nice behind in those nicer trousers.
Sulim suddenly looked at her, as if she had caught Mira in the act.
“Right this way,” she said with no inflection. “I have it on good authority that they pulled out all the stops for supper tonight. I mean, with what time they had.”
“It’s such a shame that people feel the need to go all out for us.” Yet Mira wouldn’t complain. She was hungry, if her growling stomach was a testament to anything.
She expected Sulim to show her into the dining room, then retreat, but Mira was pleasantly surprised that the beauty gestured to a seat at the end of the table.
It seated eight, by the humble looks of it.
A far cry from a proper julah dining table.
Those things could hold fifty people if enough had come over.
Mira got used to eating at a mostly empty table at a young age.
Not this one. All eight seats were filled, with Lord Vern taking one end and his son Sonall at the other.
Mira was seated next to the latter, who greeted her with tired hospitality.
He had a glass of wine and asked Mira if she wanted any.
“Afraid it’s nothing terribly fancy,” he said.
“We get it from a winery not too far from here. Delia Fields, it’s called.”
“I’ve heard of it, actually.” Mira pulled the cloth napkin into her lap.
On her other side was Kema, who assisted Joiya on the other side of her with something.
Across from Kema was Graella, who looked absolutely chuffed to be in the middle of such action.
She had dressed up in an iridescent pearl-gray dress that was reminiscent of a favored style on Yahzen, particularly among socialites who had either not gone to the Academy or were freshly graduated.
If she weren’t engaged… eh, maybe. Who was to say that Mira wouldn’t try it, anyway?
Honestly, the more she looked around, the more trouble she saw to get into.
The seat across from Mira was empty. Yet when Sonall gave her a glass of wine, he was quick to pour one for the empty seat next to him, too. There was a place setting as well. Whoever sat there must have been important enough to sup with the High Priest’s wife and daughter.
“…That’s way too much.” Mira had just turned off her communicator when Sulim sat across from her. Why, hello again. She didn’t think about why Sulim might be there, nor the way she addressed Sonall about the wine in her glass. “You know I don’t drink as much as you.”
“We’re celebrating our gracious company tonight,” he said. “You’ve met Young Lady Dunsman, yes?”
Sulim nodded to her. “I was the one sent to fetch her. Also, she told me to call her Mira.”
Sonall was slightly taken aback, and Mira concealed any laughter toying with her lips. “You two are friends already?”