The Son of Thunder

Chapter Thirty-Two

Canary and Magpie entered from the kitchen. Torin was setting up the rack with Magpie's kill outside. Glenada stood over the stove and stirred the stew. She abandoned her wooden spoon as soon as the door clicked into place. "Where have you been?" She pushed the girls toward the stairs. "Magpie, I want you to wear a dress. Brush out your hair and wash your face. Wouldn't hurt if you wore some paint."

"Mana," she said, "I don't like color."

"This is the Son of Thunder," Glenada said. "Hurry, Canary, child. Don't want to keep him occupied with your father all evening." She wiped her hands on her apron. Back to Magpie, "And please, my dear, don't talk of politics or government or sexism or tribism or religion or ethics or academics."

"I'll just bite my tongue until it bleeds," Magpie said.

Glenada patted her back and trotted down the steps, muttered about Vachel and Vale and their cousins. Magpie thought, My mother and subterfuge...

Canary's gold hair hung smoothly over her shoulders and swung over her back as they went down the hall. She was smaller than Magpie, but Magpie still considered her the beauty of the family. Now that Canary was of age, all the men that sat with Pata ignored Magpie and she preferred it that way.

Magpie slid into the seat before the mirror, pulled her wiry hair out of the string and brushed it. Her hair refused to lie flat against her shoulders. It rippled and moved. Lightening wasn't interested in her appearance, so she couldn't justify her actions. She pulled the black wool gown over her head. The collar was twisted, took forever to correct it. The skirts rustled as she walked down the stairs. She would have rushed to Lightening's arms and told him how pleased she was to see him up, but she wasn't about to encourage her family.

Magpie shook her head, her hair falling off of her shoulders. Hadn't they just been through this mess? The Son made his intentions clear to Magpie, but Glenada was another creature altogether. The fire glowing warm made her dress heavy.

"Magpie," Lorid said, rising from his chair. "Darling, you look enchanting."

The Son of Thunder rose and said, "Please, sit."

Canary was perched on the arm of their father's chair.

"I am well to stand."

"Nonsense," he said.

"No chairs," she said, indicating the two recliners were occupied by the men.

The Son of Thunder moved to the left of his chair and put his arm out. "I will recline on the brick of the fireplace. Sit." He leaned to Magpie's ear, "Please don't make me order you."

She liked the way his breath tickled her ear. She loved seeing Canary's gaze ablaze. Magpie had a good mind to share his little quip with her. She sank in the recliner, very rigid and still, straightened her skirts.

"That looks like the same dress you wore to the preview," Lightening said.

"It is."

"You should have worn a different one."

"This is the only one I own," Magpie said, her voice taking on a firmer tone.

"I gave you one hundred dira last we met," he said.

"You should have given it to someone who would buy dresses."

Magpie hated his mask. She wanted to see his expression, if he was shocked or angry. She was over that 'Star Child' nonsense. He could parade his perversity in front of her any time he liked.

"Son," Lorid cut in, "how is Shawna?"

Lightening's head remained toward Magpie for a moment, then he faced Lorid. "She is well."