“Always, from now on.”
He turned back to the fish.
And now it’s awkward again,she thought. Had she overreacted?No, he overstepped.They’d been doing well there for a while, though, and it had been nice. It was a pity they couldn’t return to that. She dumped raspberries into a bowl and added sugar. While they soaked in the sugar, she set a pot of water on the opposite side of the wood-burning stove from Larran and put a bowl with a chunk of wax on top of it—according to her parents’ recipe book, that was the best way to melt the wax, in a double boiler. She wondered if he was regretting the fish.Probably calculating how soon until he can leave.“Am I your foal?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” If he was only trying so hard to be nice because he felt he owed her . . . “It’s just . . . I can pay you for the wood and the nails and the work and the fish. Once the shop is open, I can pay you back. This can be a business transaction. It doesn’t have to be a favor you think you owe me because once upon a time I was nice to a baby horse-fish.”
The fish seasoned, he laid the fillets in the pan. They stood side by side at the stove, him watching the fish sizzle and her watching the wax melt. “That’s how I knew you’re a good person. That’s not why . . .” He trailed off, as if unsure how he wanted to finish the sentence.
Caz jumped onto the floor and landed with a plop. Loudly, he said, “Kiela, how about coming outside with me and sorting through the wood? We can make a pattern for the back of the shelves, like you said.”
“Uh, okay?” Kiela followed the plant outside.
Larran had brought a stack of wood, the boards all different widths and shades, and laid them on the grass between the roses and the herb border. She and Caz began to sort the wood by color. It was rather intriguing how many shades there were. If they alternated shades in a rainbowlike pattern, from reddish to pale tan to brown . . .
“You should consider that he might be being nice because he’s a nice person,” Caz said.
“He’s being nice because he thinks he owes me, because I took care of his foal, and because he sees me as his new foal, as someone who needs taking care of.” Yes, she needed help with the shelves, but that didn’t make her helpless. She’d figured out how to make jam. Really tasty jam, in fact, though it was a shame she didn’t have access to lemon juice. A little citrus would sharpen the flavor and add a—
“Or maybe he likes you.”
At that, all thought of lemon juice vanished. She peered in through the open kitchen door. Sunlight cast Larran in a pool of light. He was singing again as he cooked the fish. At least he didn’t seem overly annoyed at her being prickly. Or maybe he just had a short attention span. “Do you think I should let him barge in wherever he wants”—she lowered her voice—“and open any crate he wants to open?”
“Obviously not,” Caz said. “But he is one of the few people we know here. I just think he’s trying really hard to be friendly. You could try too.”
“Iwastrying and then—”
“He wanted salt?”
“Yes, but that’s not—”
“Andpepper?”
“He can’t like me,” Kiela said. “I’m unlikable.”
“This is a ridiculous conversation that I regret beginning,” Caz said. “You are not unlikable. I chose to be your assistant, out of all the librarians in the Great Library. I am a very picky plant with impeccable taste.”
She couldn’t help but grin.
“Accept that he’s trying, albeit in a sometimes clumsy way, to be friends.”
Her grin faded. “I’m not certain it’s safe to make friends, given the secret we’re hiding. We can have business partners, we can have neighbors, and we can have customers, but friends? I’m not sure that’s wise, even if they do seem nice.” She thought of Bryn and the boy Tobin.
Caz didn’t reply, and she knew he was picking his words carefully.
Frowning at the wood as if it were at fault for the bramble of emotions she was feeling, she laid out the boards and organized them until they made a pleasing pattern, and hoped this uncomfortable conversation was finished.
“You’re going to have to trust people if you want us to build a life here,” Caz said at last.
That . . . could be true. But she didn’t like it. She’d wanted to do this all alone . . .I already haven’t done it alone.She hadn’t even lasted twenty-four hours before she’d trooped down to the center of town for seeds and bread. She wasn’t the hardened survive-on-her-own type, perhaps due more to a lack of experience than temperament, but still . . . “I know. I’ll try.”
“Thank you,” Caz said. “You know, plants aren’t nearly as emotionally exhausting as humans. You should try to be more plant.”
She laughed. “Good advice. All I need is some chlorophyll.”
“Excellent. You’d look great in green.”
