“Of course, of course.” Her voice is light with a musical lilt.
“I’m sorry I’ve not visited recently.” He sits back on one of the chairs in the room. “Do you remember Ever?” Ten turns to me, and so does Celestine.
Her eyes seem clouded as she stares at me, and I wonder if she’d have used her power to feel me out if she still could. She certainly doesn’t look like the same woman who warned me not to question her all those weeks ago.
“I remember,” she says, but I think she’d say that even if she didn’t.
“We’re going to stay here for a while. I’ll make tea if you’d like some.” Ten picks up the tray on the table.
“Yes… yes. Tea.”
Ten nods to the stuffed sofa in front of the table, and I take a seat, not feeling awkward at all.
Celestine keeps her eyes on me like she’s trying to remember something. I glance back and check Ten’s out of the room, and then, very carefully, I push my power out towards her, not confident to go and take her hand in case I inflict the same curse on her as I do her son.
There’s not the usual hum, but rather a small light I sense. A glow. Perhaps a result of the Transference and what magic she retains. “Hello, dear.” Her voice sounds more confident, as if my mental intrigues jolted her awake.
“Do you feel me?” I ask.
“Why yes. You haven’t mastered the finesse to toy unnoticed. Although perhaps…” her voice fades, and she turns back to the window as if the strands of conversation have floated away.
Ten walks in, a tray in hand. It’s a strange sight, him carrying a teapot and cups, but there’s something about it that’s so utterly normal, my throat tightens. After everything that’s happenedtoday… Stars above, how is it still the same day? How is he being so normal after what he did?
A wave of exhaustion breaks over me, and the soft cushions seem to pull me in tighter, beckoning me to grow comfy in their embrace. Light still lingers in the sky, possibly the longest day of my life, and I’m more than happy for it to end.
Ten pours a cup of tea and hands it to his mother, who still seems more interested in what’s happening outside, although there’s nothing in her line of sight.
He offers me one, too, and I gladly take it as he sits down. “You must be hungry, too. When was the last time you ate?”
“Breakfast,” I admit.
“I’ll get us something.”
“No. Wait a minute.” He stares at me as if conflicted between staying and offering me sustenance. Guilt unfurls in my gut at the distance I allowed to form between us. Both of us are at fault.
He breaks his internal debate and looks at his mother, who seems to be lost in her own thoughts, the silence eating at Ten, for he’s standing in the next moment. I don’t want to be left here with her, so I force my limbs to answer my intent and follow him.
“Ten!” I whisper-shout at him. “Is she okay?” I ask after his mother first.
“The Transference,” he answers and then turns down a hallway and into another room that turns out to be the kitchen. “Once you gift your power as an Advocate, it can take a toll on you.”
“I’m so sorry.” I don’t know what else to say, but I think of Lyle, and a pang of sorrow fills my chest. “Is she suffering?”
Ten swallows. “It’s a fact of life here. Warriors are less affected after the ceremony and can often keep their positions if they are high enough in command. But other Orders are hit differently. They’re affected in different ways. I’d never considered what would happen to her after. I’ve not visited,and I should have.” A soft wave of guilt brushes up against me, hitting me in the chest: Ten’s guilt. I didn’t have to focus my power to feel this and wonder just how heavily he’s hurting if his emotions are this heightened.
He sets about pulling bread and what looks like cheese and cold cuts from the larder, off the kitchen, and I’m surprised that there isn’t someone?—
“What are you doing, Master Ciro? Please. Please. Allow me.” An older gentleman bustles into the kitchen, shocked to find Aten gathering supplies. He must be in his late sixties by the look of his worn and lined skin, and the set of bushy white eyebrows resting above shrewd eyes.
“I’m just fixing something for us, Rigel. Ever’s not eaten since this morning.”
“Oh my. No no no.” Rigel plucks the supplies from Ten and puts them on the counter before adding to them himself, pulling things from the cupboards around him.
“There’s no need to go to any trouble, please,” I start, but Rigel cuts me a withering look that tells me it isn’t the right thing to say.
“Shoo. Shoo.” He fans his hands and ushers us both from the kitchen.
“I forgot how territorial he is about his kitchen.” Ten rolls his eyes. “Sorry. But at least you’ll be properly fed now. We can wait in here.” He walks back towards where we first entered the home, but opens another door leading to a small, formal dining room, the table only big enough to seat four.
