"Soone's preoccupied," Maya comnted from the kitchen doorway. A playful smile danced on her lips.
"Naturally." I turned away from the mana burner and regarded her with suspicion, the tip of my kitchen knife pointing toward her in faux threat. "This is an exact science that requires near perfect focus."
"Mmm. It'd be easier to believe that if I knew what you were making."
"Ah, ah. Don't even think about it." I made a short stabbing motion for emphasis.
"Cairn please." Desperation crept into her voice as she rose on her tiptoes, trying to peer into the pot's contents. "It slls so gods damned familiar and it's driving mad!" When I pointedly ignored her and attempted to return to the cooking, Maya's gaze shifted to the pixie flying circles above the pot, applying seasoning with thodical precision. "Why does she get to help and I don't?"
The pitiable whine was utterly unlike her typical mask—a sign she was finally letting her guard down. It was also, damn , remarkably endearing.
I covered a smile with sternness. "Because it's not for her."
Almost imdiately, I realized my error. The pixie stopped dead in flight, small translucent wings beating furiously to maintain her hover, her glare monolithic. In her hands, the herb shaker dipped lower, the threat obvious and implicit.
"Of course she'll get so," I said hurriedly, reaching for the shaker as the pixie zipped away, watching with narrow, suspicious eyes. "That's the agreent. Obviously. I just ant we didn't start making it for her exclusively. And she certainly won't enjoy it much if it's over-seasoned."
The pixie sniffed and resud her duty.
A slight movent caught my eye—Maya pulling out a chair from the table as if to stand on it.
"Ah, ah." I moved to block her sight, the blade drifting toward her again. This ti, it was a mistake.
Maya stared at the knife, sothing predatory flickering in her eyes. "Keep swinging that little knife around and a girl might take it as a threat."
"It's not little, it's adequate," I joked, trying to defuse the tension.
It didn't work. "You know I'm faster than I used to be."
"So am I," I answered on bluster, then inwardly cursed myself for what had decidedly been the wrong response.
A slow, intimidating smile spread across her face. "We haven't sparred seriously since our reunion. You were faster than , once. Wonder if that's still the case."
I quickly set the knife down and inched to the side of the stovetop until the still-simring stew was no longer under threat. "Hardly a contest when one of us has magic perfectly tailored for winning nonlethal bouts."
Her smile widened. "Taking magic out of it would ruin the fun. Better to set rules instead."
"Rules for?" I stalled.
"A wager." She said this matter-of-factly, as if it were obvious. "First touch anywhere vital wins the bet."
"Anywhere?"
Her brows narrowed. "Don't be crude."
I shimmied further down the counter, continuing to give the boiling pot safe distance. It would be far more ideal to take this outside, but if I didn't miss my guess, we didn't have that long. "All this for a look in Coralei's Cistern?"
Subtly her shoulders lowered, one before the other, into the slightest approximation of a stance. I moved to match her positioning.
"Hopefully, the contents are more appetizing than that."
I tried to stall again. "And what do I get?"
"What do you want?" She raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference.
There was still a remnant of discomfort—one that flared after I'd asked my question—so I needed to be careful. There were many, many wrong answers. Anything that pushed her boundaries. I needed sothing that fit the tone: flirtatious without being over the top, punitive enough to encourage avoidance without transgressing into cruelty.
Eventually, it ca to , and I smirked. "Very well. I'll accept your terms. However, should victory fall to , you'll sit at that table and eat every bite I feed you."
Maya gawked, turning her body away from , utterly scandalized. "By hand?!"
"With a spoon. Obviously."
"By hand." She repeated, incredulity only growing. "How degenerate."
"Elphion." I turned back, checking the stew in part to hide my embarrassnt by proxy. "From that reaction you'd think soone suggested a Panthanian Farewell—"
Maya stared. "What in the celestial planes is a Panthanian Farewell?"
There was a long pause.
"It's when they say goodbye."
"The hells it is."
"That aside"—I cleared my throat, trying to send a very clear signal we were moving on—"the stakes were clearly too high." Out of the corner of my eye I saw her pout, and damn twice, I couldn't help myself. "There's no sha in bowing out honorably when one knows they'll be bested."
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The way her face twitched should have been my first sign to retreat. Rather stupidly, I ignored it. "The stew will be ready in good ti. Take your place at the table and wait quietly, like a good little diplomat—"
The reaction was volatile and blisteringly fast. While I'd blathered on, Maya had bent her leg and placed her bare foot against the back wall, slouching slightly. Suddenly she kicked outward, flying directly at on a collision course I was in no way prepared for.
I slapped away her outstretched hand by instinct. Were this actual combat, there were about a dozen different counters that could have worked, but in those circumstances Maya would have had her staff, and I didn't have to worry about where and how my opponent landed.
Swearing, I caught her beneath the arms and managed to keep her magic-illuminated hand at bay, grunting as her knees cinched across my waist like a vice. Completely off balance from the montum, I swiveled at the last mont, lifting her up onto the countertop and slipping a forearm behind her head, cushioning her skull before it could impact the cabinet door.
"Got you." A small voice whispered near my ear. The warmth at my neck inford I'd lost, as erald magic flooded my muscles, halting them in a position that felt extrely compromising.
Our faces were entirely too close. Her breath ward my cheek, eyes flitting between mine, the discomfort from before completely vanished and replaced with sothing else entirely. Her mouth parted, and her tongue darted between her lips, wetting them slightly. "Cairn… what are we doing?"
With all the willpower in the world, I turned my head and whispered, "You're… keeping … like this."
Maya's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh lord below, I'm so sorry."
When the magic faded enough for to move freely, I took her chin gently and pressed a brief kiss to her lips. Enough to let her know it was fine. That nothing she did was worthy of apology. That I hoped there would be many such accidents to co.
When we parted, her fingers still lingered on my cheek, and my voice was raw. "Who won?"
"A draw?" she breathed. "Definitely a draw."
"Fair enough."
/////
To my great relief, the pixie didn't seem to find the agenda of humans—or infernals—particularly interesting. She was a consummate professional and had stayed focused on the task despite the manner in which things had gotten slightly out of hand, far better than I could say for myself.
A brief search revealed several decent vessels, and once the stew had cooled—its aty aroma growing more distinct and delectable by the mont—I served it up in two generously sized bowls, then did the sa for the pixie. She accepted her portion with an overly serious examination before eventually bowing and returning to her ho, shutting the door behind her with a decisive click.
"Before we grew… distracted, I was going to ntion that I ran into an Infernal priest at the market today."
"Oh?" Maya's nostrils flared as the bowl was placed before her. Her sharpened nails clicked gently against the flatware as she drew the bowl closer and breathed in again, shuddering in quiet satisfaction. "Think I finally know what this is—What deity did he serve, your priest?"
I paused, questioning the wisdom of bringing this up. My initial encounter with the goddess had been harrowing, but Maya's had been far worse. "Infaris."
Imdiately, her smile slipped, then recovered in short order. "How strange, to encounter such a person in a human city. How did that go?"
"We don't have to talk about it."
"It's fine. I'm not angry at Infaris. At least, not anymore. As unpleasant as the circumstances of that eting were, she ant well. And my anger had much worthier directions to be aid in short order." Maya plunged her spoon into the broth in a manner that cast so doubt on that sentint, then brought the dense orange liquid to her lips, blowing lightly on the contents before taking her first taste.
Almost imdiately, her eyes widened. She drew in another spoonful, then another, before setting the utensil down with an unsteady hand.
"This really takes back." A tear drifted down her cheek, which she swiped at in petty annoyance. "Sorry. Sorry. Lord below, it really caught off guard. I don't even feel emotional, yet here I am, leaking just the sa."
I pulled out my chair and settled into it, leaning forward with my fingers steepled atop the table. "Talk to ."
She shook her head minutely, dabbing a napkin at the corner of her mouth. "I'm fine. Those were so of the best days of my life, brief as they were." There was a warble as her voice nearly broke, and she paused, giving it a mont to steady. "You, , mother and father, my brothers, all living together under the sa roof."
I smiled at the mory. "It was crowded at tis."
"Oh yes. We could never fully get out of each other's way." Laughter flowed out of her, though it echoed hollow as it faded to nothing. "Gods, those early days. You were constantly underfoot in the kitchen, and it drove mother crazy." She paused, understanding dawning in her expression. "It makes sense now. You were just trying to learn to cook the sa way you learned apothecary work—by watching closely and taking part when possible."
"Nethtari was generally happy to have the help."
"The 'generally's' doing a lot of work there." Maya snorted. "I rember waking up, stumbling through the living area, and to my absolute horror, finding her threatening you with a serving spoon, just laying into you the sa way she would have Jorah."
"That's right." I cleared my throat, then attempted Nethtari's monotone cadence. "'The kitchen is a facility of survival and efficiency first, learning second. Do not stand behind without announcent unless you wish to be scalded.'" I couldn't help but grin, recalling her intensity even now. "I've had tutors less strict. Most of them, if we're being honest. Gods, she always went so far out of her way to take care of ."
"She likely sensed the loneliness in you. Mother was always good at that, despite her frigid airs."
"And I loved her for it." I took a few bites, feeling a little maudlin at both the mory Maya described and those that ca later. "Maybe it's different now. And things can't ever be quite how they were." Across the table, her shoulders stiffened, and I hurried onward. "But you can always see them. Whenever you want. I know how it feels to be separated from family because of circumstances beyond your control."
"I'll visit, of course." She t my eye. "But the hearth never kindles quite the sa after the fire dies."
"Nonsense." I gestured vaguely northward. "Look at my family." When there was no response beyond a dubious look, I shrugged. "They're not perfect, sure. Things with my mother are difficult. But she's alive. My sisters are learning how best to deal with my father's… complexities and protect themselves. And father—gods, he's so much less angry than he used to be. Still angry, of course. I'm not even sure who he'd be if he wasn't at least a little pissed off about sothing—but there's less of it, and for the most part it's pointed in the direction it should be. So, fuck the poets." I took her hand across the table. "Maybe it won't ever be exactly the sa. But we can go ho again. And the rest is what we make of it."
"I hope you're right," Maya said, a lilt of doubt in her voice.
We devoured the rest of the al in reflective quiet, and after the food was gone and we'd conquered the dishes together, we moved to the chaise across from the crackling fire. We shared various mories, regaling each other with forgotten details until the wood burned down to embers. I draped my arm around her shoulder and she reclined into , fitting snugly, as if the place was ant for her and her alone.
Maya's eyes grew heavy with sleep, and before I could so much as consider relocating, she began to doze, her gentle breaths warming my neck.
Just as I dozed off myself, a voice from a distant mory echoed sowhere in the recesses of my mind.
How dare you look at like that, after everything I've done. Everything I've sacrificed. Like filth beneath your boot. How dare you.
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