“I ordered it on the walk back.”
There are freshly baked pastries, mini boxes of dry cereals, a jug of milk and a bowl of what might be porridge. Then there are three—three!— mugs of steaming drinks. I recognise the smell of coffee, but I don’t know for sure what the other two are. All the combined aromas battle for attention. My other eyebrow joins the first as my stomach rumbles. And I swear toallthat is cosmic, the captain flushes a little. She isn’t making eye contact with me, but she pulls at her rolled-up sleeves until they cover her wrists completely—and I know a nervous tic when I see one.
She clears her throat. “I didn’t know if you’d want to try some more Suryavan cuisine. You seemed to enjoy theaakas maki.”
I’m floored. “That’s...very kind.Shukran.”Thank you.
By now, she’s gathered herself with the kind of iron control that I can only dream of achieving. I’ve been accused of many things, but nonchalance is not one of them. It’s disappointing now that I’ve seen her look almost sheepish, maybe even shy. Weird to say considering she’s something like 5’11” and has a quiet kind of strength that doesn’t fool me at all. Silence can be menacing.
Her response is automatic, sweet and quiet. “Swagat akana.”You’re welcome.
A moment passes where we just look at each other. I tilt my head towards the cart, smile softly as I touch a fingertip to the bowl. It contains a thick, pinkish liquid sprinkled with dried mango. But there’s also something pale, almost translucent, scattered on the top beneath what might be a drizzle of honey. All in all, it looks fascinating, and I have no idea what it is.
“Eya ta var?” What is this?
At first, I thought I had imagined it, but now I’m certain that every time I speak her language, something like pleasure blooms in the captain’s face, if only for a second. She won’t let it take root, but she can’t quite keep it away. I wonder if she’s homesick.
“Sorry,” she says, startling me out of my thoughts. “I didn’t want to assume. After all, you recognised themakiaakas. That islabouylua, made using Suryavan grains—hence the slightly pink colour even post-processing. It’s not very sweet, so the fruit and the honey should balance it out. I know the Tellurians seem to have some kind of complex about that. The flowers—”
“Hold on.” I hold up a hand, unable to help myself. “Acomplexabout that?”
“Yes, a complex. You put sugar in everything. Everything must be artificially sweetened. It’s no wondersukramaladyis so rife.”Diabetes.
She looks so miffed by this, and I can’t help but burst into laughter. Of all the things that could disrupt her careful façade. I end up laughing so hard that I cry, the combination of her creased forehead and disapproving frown sending me right off the edge. And eventually—it takes me ages to compose myself—Tanisira can’t hide the tiny smile on her lips. Her arms are folded, but there’s a glint in her eye that wasn’t there before. If I hadn’t been studying her so intently all morning, I’d have missed it. I don’t think she even knows she’s doing it.
“Suryavans don’t have such a sweet tooth,” she grumbles.
Wiping away the tears, I nod serenely. “You must save a fortune in dentist bills.”
That doesn’t amuse her. Is it because it’s true or because she just didn’t think it was funny? To be fair, Vee always groans at my jokes, but I think I’m hilarious.
I swipe a finger through thelabouyland pop it into my mouth. It’s not like anything I’ve ever tasted before. Unlike the porridge I’ve had back home, it’s almost gritty, and it has a sort of tart aftertaste. It’s nice, though probably an acquired taste, and definitely in need of sweetening. Tanisira watches me, expression unreadable again.
“And the flowers?” I prompt.
“Lunar lotus. Genetically engineered, not technically Suryavan, but we use them in a lot of ways.”
I pick one up by the petal and pop it in my mouth. My eyes widen as it melts on my tongue like a wafer. Now that is sweet. “Hmm.” I point at my mouth, nodding my approval. “Ladha.”Delicious.
Her mouth parts on a word, but she doesn’t say anything. She tries again, this time saying, “Who taught youSurya-Vani?”
It’s such a gorgeous word coming from her lips, more musical than I’ve ever heard a non-native pronounce it.
“Oh, shit, why? Is my accent bad? I don’t get many opportunities to practice it with someone who’s actually fluent, let alone a native.”
“No, no. It’s...good.”
Oh. I pause at that. I’d expected her to say the opposite. I wasn’t being modest when I asked; I really haven’t had many chances to practice. If my skin were any lighter, I would be blushing. “I taught myself.”
The captain blinks. There’s the slightest rise of her eyebrows, and then she nods in understanding. “You’ve done a good job of it.”
It’s hard not to let that go to my head. “Languages have always been my thing. I have a sort of overactive mind.”
“Sort of?”
Was—
My mouth falls open. “Was that a joke?” She shrugs, and I widen my eyes. “You’ve known me for less than 48 hours. You can’tmake jokes like that.”
