four #4
“Yes, but poor Hannu wasn’t feeling well,” Kema said. “She asked to be left alone in our room to rest. I suppose someone will bring her some food later? Oh, I can do it. Just fix her up a plate, and I’ll teleport it up to her. Nothing will spill, I promise.”
“Teleport…” Jacelah fanned herself. “My, I’ve never seen such a thing.”
Joiya put a hand on Kema’s arm. “No need for parlor tricks at the moment. Later.”
Mira snorted. While everyone looked at Kema, who laughed, Mira knew that it was aimed at her.
Not that I’m going anywhere with this tattoo on my forearm.
If she really, truly had to, she was powerful enough that she could probably teleport a short distance.
But it wasn’t worth her mother’s ire—or depleting her own energy reserves.
For what was often one of the simplest forms of sorcery for a julah would now be too much for someone suppressed like Mira.
“Hannu…” Sulim could barely be heard over the scraping of utensils and sips of wine and water. “I don’t suppose you mean Hannu Adelah?”
Kema was cut off from whatever she was about to say, and Mira likewise looked at Sulim in renewed interest. Joiya was the only one who wasn’t shocked that Sulim knew the name. “Why, yes. You know of her?”
“Unless it’s someone with the same name, she was a priestess in Yarensport, wasn’t she?”
Both Mira and Kema looked at Joiya. Is that what this is about? Mira suddenly had a hundred questions to ask her mother, the master conspirer who always had something completely innocent up her sleeve.
“I do believe that was her first assignment, yes,” Joiya softly said. “It wasn’t that long ago. How did you know that?”
Sulim was hesitant to answer, and Sonall and Graella suddenly looking quite uncomfortable did not help.
“Because you’re from Qahrain, aren’t you?”
Mira supplied, before turning her attention to Graella.
“And you met your future husband near Yarensport. If not in Yarensport, if I recall correctly. My…”
If she could look at her mother without drawing attention, she would have. “What a small universe this is.”
Something soured on Sulim as she placed her fork on her plate. While Jacelah hurried the conversation to some other topic, Mira focused on her end of the table, where Graella awkwardly jumped in with an anecdote about her shoes, while Sulim raised her gaze to meet Sonall’s.
“No,” she said to him.
“But…”
“I said no.”
This was juicier than the pheasant that remained on Mira’s plate.
What’s going on between these two? Mira had been curious about Sulim since seeing her for the first time, yes, but now this?
Not only was Sulim sitting at the table with family—implying she was also family, despite being from elsewhere—but she had enough sway to tell the heir no about something bugging the shit out of half the table.
Something to do with Hannu, no less. Sick, my ass. Unless something about being in this place had given Hannu the kind of migraine that sequestered her away from the rest of the house.
“Fine,” Sonall muttered. “Later.”
Mira continued to glance between them. The way Sulim slumped, ire on her fair face; the way Sonall shifted in his seat, knuckles grazing her arm…
Oh. Oh.
“Your husband,” Mira blurted.
Luckily, only those two had heard her. While Sonall was intrigued by what Mira said, Sulim looked like she would rather melt into the floor, never to be reformed again. “Huh?”
“Your husband.” Mira leaned back in her seat, gesturing to Sonall. “Right. This is your husband.” She then gestured to Sulim. “This is your wife.” It’s all falling into place.
Sonall’s eyebrows were about to march off his forehead. “Yes. Suppose I hadn’t mentioned that when we were all acquainted. Sulim is my wife.” He offered her a kind smile that she did not reciprocate. “The future Lady Gardiah, Void willing.”
Sulim shoved food in her mouth, elbow on the table in a most unpleasing way. I like that. Let’s get unpleasant.
But of course, Mira was attracted to a married woman. Of course she was attracted to the future Lady Gardiah, the young bride of the man to her right. Of course she fucking was.
“Well…” At least Mira had plenty of practice playing something like this off.
“Seems we’ve found ourselves in an interesting house for a while. Let me just say, on my mother’s behalf, that we’re grateful for your hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiah.”
She caught Sulim’s big-eyed gaze. “Actually, I thought you said your name was Sulim di’Graelic?”
“Did you?” Sonall cut in.
To her credit, Sulim was not as easily flustered. “Legally, I still am Sulim di’Graelic. Women changing their names upon marriage isn’t as big a thing on Qahrain. My own mother didn’t change her name when she married my father.”
“If only such independence were practiced on Yahzen,” Mira said. “Why, the whole society would fall apart if the patriarchy couldn’t absorb women into its ancient net.”
Unfortunately, that was not the most awkward thing Mira had ever said at a formal dinner. Fortunately, she didn’t give a shit who she offended anymore.
Especially if it made beautiful women take a second look at her.