Leena sieved a thin layer of icing sugar over a layer of blackberries and bent down to observe her work critically, holding her breath. A lemon curd and blackberry tart was a plain thing to serve to guests perhaps – but it would be going to the table among half a dozen other delights. Straightening, she rubbed her back and begged her leave from Cook. The dear old man grumbled but let her go.
He knew what she was up to, after all. And Leena would risk significantly worse than Cook’s grumbling to see Siora.
Still a little grimy with oil and flour, she made her way to that certain balcony and lingered on the threshold, listening. Their mother’s song, so beautiful, was made ethereal by Siora’s great talent. It was too painful to hear. Leena scrambled onto the chair and made the climb up, breathing heavily by the time she could crawl across the tiles and sit beside Siora.
“Hey, you.” Leena generally tried to avoid asking about Frost – their time was too precious to spend discussing the terrible things that they couldn’t change. But she could hardly ignore the ugly wound or all the items spread out for treating it. She picked up the ointment and wafted the air toward her face, coughing at the acrid, herbaceous scent.
“Is this from our kitchens?” She set it back down, frowning at her sister for several heartbeats. Then Leena reached out to hug her shoulders.
“Are you okay– I suppose you must be if you got up here. What’s going on now? How can I help?”
He knew what she was up to, after all. And Leena would risk significantly worse than Cook’s grumbling to see Siora.
Still a little grimy with oil and flour, she made her way to that certain balcony and lingered on the threshold, listening. Their mother’s song, so beautiful, was made ethereal by Siora’s great talent. It was too painful to hear. Leena scrambled onto the chair and made the climb up, breathing heavily by the time she could crawl across the tiles and sit beside Siora.
“Hey, you.” Leena generally tried to avoid asking about Frost – their time was too precious to spend discussing the terrible things that they couldn’t change. But she could hardly ignore the ugly wound or all the items spread out for treating it. She picked up the ointment and wafted the air toward her face, coughing at the acrid, herbaceous scent.
“Is this from our kitchens?” She set it back down, frowning at her sister for several heartbeats. Then Leena reached out to hug her shoulders.
“Are you okay– I suppose you must be if you got up here. What’s going on now? How can I help?”
06-16-2024, 05:49 PM
