Chapter 74: Only if Yes
Everly climbed into the chair opposite Serali with considerable effort, then landed with a small thump. She picked up a biscuit, examined it, and handed it over.
“This one has the most sugar.”
Serali took it carefully. “Thank you.”
Everly beamed.
Then, with no transition at all, she said, “I’m sorry we locked you.”
The biscuit paused halfway to Serali’s mouth.
Allandra went very still.
Mara looked down.
Everly’s face was solemn and open.
Serali should have had a clever answer. She had several stored away for apologies. Some cruel. Some funny. Some designed to make the apologizer regret entering conversational range.
None of them fit a four-year-old with sugar on her sleeve and grief in her eyes.
“You didn’t lock me,” Serali said.
Everly frowned. “I live here.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I am princess.”
“That is also not the same thing.”
Everly thought about this. “It feels same-ish.”
Serali looked at Allandra.
Allandra’s expression was difficult to read. Pain, perhaps. Pride. Shame. Love. All of it kept under such tight control that Serali could see only the pressure of it.
“No,” Serali said, looking back at Everly. “It isn’t. But I accept your apology.”
Everly brightened so suddenly it was like watching a lamp catch.
“Good.”
Serali took a bite of the biscuit.
It was, unfortunately, excellent.
Everly watched anxiously. “Is it good?”
“No.”
Everly’s face fell.
Serali swallowed. “It is terrible. I may have to eat another to understand how terrible.”
Everly’s expression cleared into delight. “That means good.”
“Does it?”
“Yes. Uncle Hagen says things like that when he wants more wine.”
Allandra put one hand over her eyes.
Serali nearly inhaled the biscuit.
“Does he?”
Everly nodded. “He says, ‘Dreadful vintage, pour again.’”
Allandra did not move her hand. “My brother has many gifts. Self-knowledge is not among them.”
Serali laughed.
It escaped before she could cage it. A real laugh, quick and bright and nearly painful.
Everly stared at her with satisfaction, as if she had personally engineered the sound.
Perhaps she had.
Then Everly reached into the small pocket sewn into her dress and removed a folded paper, already creased and slightly sticky. “I made another card.”
Serali stared at it.
Of course.
This palace was apparently attacking her with stationery.
“What kind of card?”
“A good-luck card. Mama said you have to do magic for grown-ups tomorrow.”
Then Everly bounced once in the chair. “Open it.”
Serali opened it.
Inside was a drawing of a dark stick figure holding what appeared to be black lightning. Around her stood several taller figures with large round eyes and very alarmed mouths. One had a beard. One had goggles. One had hair represented by aggressive yellow spikes.