Page 118 of The Space Between Stars

“I felt the same way.” He winked, and Attilatia fought the urge to accidentally drop her teacup into his lap. “But that’s when the Fates transformed a disaster into something magical.”

She batted him on the shoulder. “What happened?”

“The king’s laundress was a beautiful young woman.”

She clapped a hand to her forehead. “I boycott the rest of this story. Why don’t you tell me a fourth time about how you avoided Chori import taxes before their last twenty-year festival instead, eah?”

Pinto swatted at her. “I’m just getting to the good part! You see, the king’s laundress worked the whole day through to get the dresses clean in time.

“The woman was a miracle worker—the silks were as good as new! The maidens of the court came to her one by one to don a garment and whisk away to the coronation. But when the event finally began, the laundress discovered that all of the clean dresses had been taken. She had nothing to wear—”

“I think avoiding the coronation sounds like a wonderful reward for her hard work.”

“—until she found a single, wine-stained dress wadded in the corner of the washroom. With no time to clean it, she donned the dirtied red dress in shame. But against the sea of white gowns, she caught the prince’s eye.”

Attilatia groaned.

“They fell in love. A marriage ensued and, so far as I have heard, they proceeded to live a long and happy life together.”

“Preposterous.”

“They had twelve children!”

“That isn’t a long and happy life. Do you know what a tax it is on a woman’s body to have even a single child?” Pinto’s shoulders shook and Attilatia chortled along. “Is there supposed to be a moral to this story or something?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why did you put me through it?”

“To take your mind off whatever it is you’re so nervous to tell me.” Pinto took an appreciative sip of his tea, then drained it and set his empty cup on the table. “Perfection.” He poured himself another. “You added moss?”

Attilatia nodded guiltily.

“It’s been years. Where did you get it raw like this?”

She sipped at her cup, savoring the taste: earthy and bitter and sweet all at once. “Five years back, I nearly collided with a man in Shrokan. He’d pinched a full bundle from a raider vessel, and they were fast on his tail. I made opportunity of his misfortune. Bought the whole thing for twenty silver notes. It’s lasted me some time, used sparingly.”

“It is a real treasure. Reminds me of home. How much do you have left?”

“You’re looking at it.” She tilted her chin at the kettle.

Now Pinto was quiet again, and she felt self-conscious all over. Was this what generosity granted her? She wasn’t sure she wanted it.

“Thank you for sharing,” he finally replied.

“I don’t often have company.” She had never had company.

“What do you need from me, Atti?”

Attilatia wished from the bottom of her heart that he hadn’t presumed her invitation to be transactional. But of course, that was a silly wish, considering that it was.

“Do you believe—in the dragonfly?” she asked.

The question was absurd. The pattern forged by the tendencies of the Fates at a cosmic and quantum level was Azadonian folklore, told to children to simplify and find meaning in the world.

“I am a man who believes in what he knows and, like many, is sometimes prone to believing in what he doesn’t know.”

Attilatia started to pull her knees into her chest, but stopped as Toronoff hopped into her lap with a purr that could rival a rockslide. “Something has happened. And I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve been getting this… feeling. Like I’m sitting right at the center of something world-shattering, and if I just tip my chair the wrong way, it’s going to change everything. But—well, I—what do you make of that?”