He clicked and cuddled me closer. “I’m sorry, sweet thing. We’ll celebrate Christmas, but I warn you, Nokim has made a compelling argument that it should be Santasmas.”
I sniffled. “It’s fine. Santasmas, huh? I can get used to that. How about you? Do bagua have religion?”
“Hmm. I don’t know enough about human religions to compare well enough, but we have nothing like you, where there are so many romance stories written about gods and creatures from myth.”
“Ah. Well…w-we don’t just have, uh, fairy smut—my friend Cat used to call it that, okay? Not me. I don’t judge anyone by what they read!—but there’s also Paradise Lost. I mean, it’s basically fanfic, but I can’t let you think that all of humanity is just interested in the gods bumping nasties.” Although, maybe we were. Zeus had never done anything but bump whatever he could get his hands on, and then there was Loki…
“I have heard about that, but I’ve never read it. Oh, Sadir, you said you’re an actor. We can ask if Kinnek has a copy of that story, and then you can read it to me and act it out.”
“I’m not actually that good.”
“I’ve never seen you act. I’d like to judge for myself.”
I wasn’t so much embarrassed as feeling stage fright. Not that I thought anything I did would make Inkiri tell me I’d better get used to being a server as a main job, but still. I wanted what I did to be something he could be proud of. That was an entirely new and unfamiliar feeling.
“We can at least ask.” There was no need to mention that the book was in the public domain, and that I could get it on my phone anytime. “So what about religions on Aër?”
“Yes. Well, we don’t believe in people that aren’t real and that talk into our heads. Some of the Houses do worship their ancestors though. I think very small and remote ones still have the children learn the line of ancestors before them. It’s a custom that most think comes from when magic was still very normal, when many had it.”
I leaned into the crook of his arm. “You all were magicians once?”
“I don’t know about all of us, but many more people than have the skill now. It was a long time ago.”
I nodded and let that sink in. “Magic always sounded wonderful, you know? Especially when Gran—my grandma—told me about brownies who clean your house so long as you leave a bowl of cream out for them.” I smiled. “She also said you could find out your soulmate’s initial by peeling an apple without letting the skin break and then tossing it over your shoulder.”
“I heard about brownies on the radio before, back on Aër. How would tossing apple peels let you know my initial?”
I chuckled and turned on my side so I could better look at him. “Well, it would’ve landed in the shape of your initial, but I never did it.” I bit my lip. “I tried. I was feeling so silly. I was fourteen, and it was the au pair’s day off, and we had those Granny Smith apples sitting on the counter—those green ones?”
He frowned. “Apples from your granny?”
“No. They’re a type of apple. It’s just a funny name, I guess.”
He clicked. “Like how different tea blends all have names. What were you doing with the apples when you were fourteen, Sadir?”
“Well, I tried peeling them. Don’t be mad, but I was hoping I’d get one to make an M. For Mark. He was my crush in middle school.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Did it work? Did you get an M?”
“Nope. Never managed to get the peel to stay in one piece.” I wiggled my fingers. “But I got a pretty deep cut in the process. The au pair almost screamed when she came home to the bloody towel in the kitchen.” She’d also found me on the floor, where I’d strategically retreated after bleeding a lot. The problem had simply been that my parents, despite not cooking often, had still invested in really good, really sharp kitchen knives.
Inkiri clicked, took my hand in his, and pulled it close so he could examine it. “Where?”
“Thumb.”
He looked it over, turning it this way and that. “There’s a little mark left.” His gaze flicked from my thumbpad to my face. “It’s in the shape of an I.”
“Gran never said scars count. But maybe they do?”
He nodded, his massive horns catching the light from the lamp on the nightstand. “I think they should. That way, I can tell myself that this is a human custom, and it doesn’t hurt as much that I wasn’t there to take care of you when you injured yourself.”
“Ink.” I pulled the thumb he was still looking at free so I could cup his cheek. “I’d take care of you too.”
He gave me a very sober look. “I know how to handle knives as well as swords. I’d not have cut myself.” He smiled. “But I’d have sliced the apple for you so you could feed me the slices.”
He was being unfair, really. He could’ve stayed smug for long enough for me to at least pretend I found it annoying. Then again, maybe he wasn’t smug at all and was just informing me that I—the human who’d never be able to handle one sword, let alone three—was utterly incompetent by bagu standards. I didn’t even mind, not when he was there to protect me from my own incompetence.
“We can still do that. Not now, but Charles said he has apple trees, right?”
