House of Bone

Chapter 9

Tia? Why would Tia be in my dream?

I wake up with a start and wonder why I'm getting these strange dreams. Could it be in relation to the Institute itself? Or just pure coincidence? They seem almost real. As if I'm receiving memories lost to time. I shake it off. It would be stupid, a lost, sixth House? Impossible.

Or is it?

"Kyra!" Tia drags my name out as long as she can, interrupting my thoughts "Come out for breakfast! It's waffles!"

I jump at the thought of waffles. It was a rare treat at the Bone Estate so I only had them on milestones like when I turned 13. But I loved them. They were my favourite treat of all time and I could never say no.

"Coming!" I call out and I quickly get ready for the day and go out.

I see a large pile of fluffy waffles covered in maple syrup and I can start to feel my mouth watering.

"Looks like someone has a taste for waffles." Tia teases me

"Hey!" I retort "It's not like the Bone's produced the waffles, unlike someone in this room." I narrow my eyes at Tia.

"For someone whose House makes waffles I've–I'd, never really had any before I came here." she shrugs "I've grown a taste for them since I came here,"

Shade just sits there slowly decreasing the number of waffles on the pile. They must notice me staring at them because they turn towards me with a straight face.

"What?"

Tia chuckles "Shade really likes them as well, such a shame that we only get them once a month."

My eyes widen "Once a month?!" I gasp "That's plenty!"

Tia chuckles again "Well come on then, we can't let Shade eat all of them," she turns towards the table and sits down.

"Why not?" Shade, still completely serious, asks

"Because you would get sick and none of us wants that,"

Shade rolls their eyes and continues eating their waffles. I take Tia's advice and start eating mine before Shade can devour them all. With one bite in I can immediately taste the difference between the ones back at home and the waffles here. At the Bone House, they were kind of stale and crunchy, only slightly warm because they'd been heated. But here, that was a different story, the waffles were deliciously fluffy and heated in a way that could only mean straight out of the pan, or whatever cooks use to cook waffles. I grin, this was the best breakfast I've had in my life.

Something clicks in my mind and suddenly I'm no longer in the Shelter eating waffles...

I sit at the table impatiently, waiting for breakfast to be served. My small stomach growls and I complain.

"I'm HUUUNNNGGRRYY," I say loudly enough for everyone at the table to hear.

My mother looks at me sharply, "Kyra, young ladies do not complain at the table. You say politely that you are getting hungry or you sit there patiently, you do not voice your complaints loudly so that everyone can hear. Now try again,"

I roll my eyes as best as a four-year-old can. Which isn't very well.

"Yes, Mother," I reply as politely as possible "I am getting hungry."

I sit up as tall as I can and try to look ladylike. It ends up in most of the other guests looking at me like when I see something cute, like a bunny or a cat. In return, I stare at them back. They look away quickly, pretending they were never looking at me. I sigh and cross my tiny arms, waiting for the cooks to bring out breakfast. The door to the kitchen opens and I look over quickly to see them walk in holding waffles stacked high—my mouth waters.