Hugoz

37

You'll never forget the looks on their faces. It was as though they were both small children, and you were a university professor. Even Josiane, five years your elder, was utterly lost for words.

"I have my ways," you say.

With Asher's assistance, you unpack your trunk. Your clothes and belongings look small in these surroundings, and you're accustomed to having more around you. Still, the rooms are beautiful, and you have plenty of space to place something personal.

You rummage through your trunk, alighting upon…

The candles were a gift from Fabien, your mother's old friend from university and the Westerlind Seneschal, when he returned from a diplomatic trip to Zaledo. They're three cylinders a foot high each, in ornate glass candlesticks. They've never been lit, but even the wax smells gorgeous, putting you in mind of drifting honeysuckle on a warm evening.

You place them on your windowsill. A piece of home.

Asher smiles in their direction and shucks off her jacket, smoothing its sleeves absently. "Do you want to talk before you sleep?" she says.