Page 14 of The Sun He Buried

“The miller put a grain cart under me.”

“Because you were falling.”

“Because I asked him to.”

“While you were on the roof.”

“Asta had found him by then.”

Baldr stares at the ceiling. “Of course she had.”

“I landed in barley. It was very soft.”

“It was a cart full of grain.”

“That’s what made it soft.”

“And the kitten?”

“Perfectly fine. It stayed on my shoulder the entire way down, which I thought was ungrateful.”

He rubs both hands over his face.

I wait until I can see his eyes again. “We named him Crumb. He lived in the palace kitchens and bit my father every morning for years.”

Baldr’s hands fall. “Your father kept him?”

“He said he didn’t. Crumb slept on his chair.”

“And bit him.”

“Affection can be complicated.”

He laughs again, quieter this time. Baldr tears the round loaf in half and gives me the softer piece without asking. When I was ten, I lost a tooth on a hard crust during one of our visits. He traded his soft bread for mine before anyone else noticed.

He remembers.

“Promise me one thing.” He spreads honey over his bread. “If another animal gets onto a roof, find a ladder.”

“There wasn’t one.”

“Then find someone tall.”

“I had Asta.”

“Asta would have stopped you.”

I pull the bread apart. “I can promise to look for a ladder first.”

“How thoroughly?”

“Both directions.”

He nods. “Good. I’m much calmer.”

“You don’t look calm.”

“I’m hiding it well.”