Page 99 of Fate

Firen fought the urge to take offense—either at the implication that Lucian could not provide enough coin that Firen was here begging for employ, or that she would not offer help without some promise of compensation.

“Eris,” Firen sighed out. “I’m your sister. You are working hard. I would have asked if you wanted help to scrub your kitchen floor if that’s what you were doing when I came.” And just because she was perhaps a tiny bit perturbed, she added, “I wouldn’t ask for coin for that, either.”

Eris’s lips thinned. “It’s harder than it looks.”

Firen stepped closer, trying to assess that for herself. “Then I will be bad at it, at first. And you can correct me all you like.” And she would, of that Firen was certain.

Eris glanced down at the net and truly seemed to consider the offer. But then she stood a little straighter and shook her head. “Nets can wait. Come inside and talk with me. Isn’t that what mated women do? Exchange stories?”

Tension eased out of Firen to hear her sister acknowledge her new status, and she smiled far more easily. “That sounds lovely.”

And it was true. Just as the little cottage was lovely. Wood rather than stone. White-washed, with shutters softened by long curtains. A table with a pitcher filled with flowers plucked from the sea-fields. Eris had no great fondness for flying over the open water, so Firen suspected they were a gift from Varrel.

It was all one room, the bed—made, to Firen’s surprise—was partitioned with yet more gauze.

“It’s beautiful, Eris. Truly.”

Her sister looked at her for longer than was necessary, obviously trying to judge her sincerity. Had she truly been soharsh with her in their growing up? She couldn’t recall. “Thank you. It was a bit of a disaster when we moved in, but I like what we’ve done with it.” She had no stove, only a large hearth and a hook to move the cauldron closer or further from the flames. Then there was the metal stand where she could fry in a pan if she so chose.

“Did Da make that?”

Eris’ smile grew less guarded. “Yes. Came the next day with it. Just until we can afford a stove.” There was the look again, as if waiting for Firen’s disapproval. Or maybe... “Do you have one? A stove, that is.”

There it was. Firen could not recall when their relationship had become a competition, but she desperately wanted to put an end to it. “Now, yes. We’ve moved into the lodging provided by the Hall for their workers. But we were just in the workroom loft before that.”

Eris had moved to the hearth to swing the kettle above the low fire. “Shouldn’t you be in a tower? Mama said you had a lofty mate. Veryimportant.”

Firen swallowed, gesturing toward the table with a questioning look, and Eris nodded with a look that suggested Firen was being ridiculous for having to ask. “He’s important to me,” Firen soothed. “Just as Varrel is to you.”

Just the mention of his name was enough to soften some of Eris’s expression, and Firen was glad of it. There would be no quarrelling—not to day. Hopefully not for months to come.

“So,” Eris asked, pulling mugs down from a hook on the wall. “If I wanted to host a supper, he’d come? Here?”

Firen smoothed her hands against the tabletop. It had been well sanded, and her sister added a cloth of bright blue to soften it further. “He is your family too,” Firen answered quietly. “As am I. I am sorry if...” she swallowed. Tried again. “I am sorry I envied you. I am sorry I got caught up in how lonely I felt. Ineglected you along the way, and I cannot take that back.” She folded her hands and leaned in as close as she could. “I should have been here before now. And anything you wish to host, we will attend.” She did not remind her that Eris had been the one to reject the invitation to their parents’ home. That her brothers had come, and she had not, and there had been hurt in the rejection.

Eris shifted slightly, evidently hearing all that Firen had not said. “We would have come. To the... to meet him. But Varrel got delayed and I...” she looked at her sister, her eyes too wide. “I did not want to go alone.”

Firen got up from her seat and crossed to her sister, pulling her close. They were not overly affectionate with one another—not since their youngest years. But perhaps that had been a mistake on her part as well. “Perfectly understandable,” Firen assured her. Because it was. Even now, she felt a part of herself was missing. Present through the bond, but it was not at all the same as having him near enough to touch. To glance across a room and find him watching her. For him to press little teasing emotions through the bond just to remind her he cared.

Eris pulled away first, and that was all right. And when she gestured for Firen to sit back down and told her to let her work, she sounded so much like Mama that Firen could not help but smile.

Mama had been right. She’d put this off too long, and now that it was done, she could not pretend it had not been weighing on her.

She did not stay over-long. Eris had chores to finish, she said, ducking her head as if there was something wrong with having tasks that needed doing. Those were matters to sort out on a different day. It was enough they had a pleasant visit, mostly filled with Eris sighing out Varrel’s virtues while Firen nodded and prompted her to continue every so often.

Which was more than all right.

And while there was a tug to go back to her own home, she knew she needed to go back to Mama first. Thank her for her prompting and allow her that brief glimmer in her eye that was a too near to pride at being right.

Again.

Earned, Firen supposed. But difficult to swallow depending on the circumstances.

Besides. She wanted to pick up food for their supper. Something beyond her ability to cook. With spices from across the sea, with flavours that were familiar to Firen only because Da liked to take them all and chooseonespecial stall to patronise each market.

Her mouth watered just a little at the memory of spiced nutmeats and cups of sweetened juices from fruits that looked so marvellous hanging on strings behind the stall-keeps. She’d tried to pick out a seed from her cup, determined she’d plant it outside the workshop so she could have it whenever she liked, but it had swiftly been taken away again.

To preserve the mystery, he’d said.