One black brow rose, genuine surprise flickering across his austere features "That's not an easy language to master." He tilted his head slightly, and for a moment, the stern mask slipped, revealing something almost like approval. "The classical form or the modern dialects?"
The question caught her off guard - most people didn't know enough to ask. "Both, actually. Classical for my studies, Egyptian dialect for... daily life."
Mandy's throat tightened as memories rushed in, unbidden. The sweet tea, and the ornate table, transported her back to early mornings in Cairo, when the call to prayer would echo across the city, mingling with the plaintive bleats of goats and the enthusiastic arguments of shopkeepers setting up their stalls. The air would be thick with wood smoke from breakfast fires, mixed with the mouth-watering aroma of fresh-bakedaish baladibread.
The weight of loss pressed against her chest. She could almost feel the dry heat on her skin, hear the musical lilt ofEgyptian Arabic, taste the fava beans and tomato chunks served small, round pita bread - that had been her standard breakfast every morning, along with millions of Egyptians. But those days were gone, lost to time and circumstance, existing now only in increasingly hazy memories.
Her fingers tightened around the delicate glass, its warmth anchoring her to the present. She forced the memories back into their carefully locked box, refusing to let them overwhelm her. Some doors were better left closed.
"It was a long time ago," she managed, her voice rough with suppressed emotion. She took another sip of the tea, letting its warmth and rich flavor ground her as memories threatened to surface - memories she'd rather keep buried. "Another lifetime, really."
Mandy watched Kieran cautiously, his presence somehow less intimidating now that they were sharing a civilized cup of tea. Her natural curiosity rose to the fore, so many questions crowding into her mind, each clamoring to be asked first. One rose to the top, refusing to be ignored.
"If this is your… vessel," she ventured, touching the warm pendant, "how did Jacinth come to have it?"
The temperature in the room plummeted again. Kieran's expression darkened like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. He set his delicate glass down on the inlaid table with precise, controlled movements that somehow made Mandy more nervous than if he'd slammed it.
His hands came together in a sharp clap that seemed to echo through dimensions beyond the physical. "Jacinth!" he called out, his voice resonating with power while remaining at a perfectly normal volume.
Mandy's eyebrows rose, impressed despite herself. The way his voice carried such authority without actually raising in volume reminded her of endless battles with her teenagedaughter. She'd never quite mastered that particular parenting skill - achieving maximum impact without maximum volume. What she wouldn't have given for that ability when Sabrina was fourteen and testing every boundary in existence.
A shimmer of mist coalesced in Mandy's living room, solidifying into the elegant form of Jacinth. Mandy's breath caught - seeing the mysterious woman from the ER appear out of thin air should have been shocking, but after everything else that had happened today, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary.
Bach's tail twitched, his ears pointing forward in feline curiosity, but Mozart remained firmly in her lap, apparently having decided Jacinth posed no threat
Jacinth waggled her fingers at the cats, and gave Mandy a wink. "Nice to see you again." She was casually dressed in worn jeans, a Disneyland t-shirt, and scruffy sneakers, her thick black hair pulled back into a ponytail that reached her waist.
Kieran crossed his arms over his broad chest, fixing Jacinth with a stern glare that would have sent most people running for cover. Jacinth met his icy stare with remarkable composure, her lips pressed together in a prim line that somehow managed to convey both innocence and mischief.
"This human has my Wish Vessel."
"Oops?" Jacinth's musical voice carried a note of carefully crafted contrition.
"Oops?" Kieran's tone could have frozen a desert. "That's all you have to say?"
He jabbed a finger toward the pendant resting on Mandy's chest. "That vessel has been missing from my study for three decades."
Jacinth's chocolate brown eyes widened with an innocence so perfect it had to be practiced. Her gaze fixed on the pendant, her expression practically seraphic. "Oh my, has it really? I wonder where it could have been all this time?"
Mandy had to bite back amusement as she watched the exchange. The way Jacinth's eyes sparkled with barely suppressed amusement reminded her strongly of Sabrina as an adolescent, caught in some particularly creative mischief but too pleased with herself to properly pretend remorse.
Jacinth's expression shifted, the mischievous glint in her eyes softening as she turned toward Mandy. Her warm brown eyes held genuine concern. "How are you feeling now, Mandy? Any better since I saw you last?"
"Yes, much better. They got to me not long after you left. The shot helped, and then..." She glanced uncertainly at Kieran, not quite sure how to describe what he'd done to ease her pain when she fell earlier. "Actually, I haven't felt this good in years."
"Wonderful!" Jacinth's smile lit up her entire face. Her gaze dropped to the nearly empty glass in Mandy's hand.
The glass suddenly grew warm against Mandy's palm. She watched in astonishment as amber liquid materialized inside, rising until it reached the gold-trimmed rim, fragrant steam curling upward in delicate spirals. The unexpected magic startled her so badly she nearly dropped the glass, tea sloshing dangerously close to the edge.
Mozart made a disgruntled sound as a few drops landed on his fur. He shot Mandy a reproachful look before beginning to fastidiously clean his shoulder.
"Oh!" Mandy steadied the glass with trembling hands. "I... thank you?" The words came out more like a question than she'd intended.
Mandy couldn't help her mind wandering despite the surreal situation. She wondered idly what the feminine form of Djinn would be. Djinna? Djinnette? No, ugh, that was worse - like some magical backup singer.
"Djinniyya," Kieran's deep voice cut through her musings.
Heat flooded her cheeks. "Thank you," she replied with exaggerated solemnity, trying to cover her embarrassment at having her thoughts read yet again.
