Dyraien scraped the garlic into a bowl and set it aside. He laid his knife on the table, walked over to Rye, then brought their foreheads together. Rye’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry,” Dyraien whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He removed his head and kissed Rye’s brow. Oddly, the gesture didn’t stir any feelings of jealousy. The way Dyraien touched Rye was different from his usual flirtatious touches. It wasn’t sadistic or deviant or manipulative. It was brotherly, kind, sincere. Possibly the most genuine emotion Tahki had seen Dyraien display.
Embarrassed by his intrusion, Tahki moved away from the wall and went to fetch the flour.
TAHKI SET the polished wood table with white plates and silver utensils, and then Dyraien reset it properly, amused that Tahki had put the knife on the wrong side. They ate in one of the larger rooms with a big red rug in the center. The table sat six people, but there were only four chairs. A tray of pork and garlic potatoes covered half the table. Dyraien also supplied two bottles of wine and three glasses. Hona joined them, but Rye had gone to Edgewater. Whatever Hona had done, it must have been bad, because Tahki remembered Rye saying he wanted to avoid the town when he could.
Tahki glanced around the room in search of the black cat.
Dyraien cracked a handful of lightning roots and set them upright in a clear vase. They all helped themselves. Hona ate fast and in large forkfuls. Dyraien held his fork between his thumb and index finger and took small bites. Tahki knew the proper way to hold a fork and knife but decided not to show his manners. He still had a persona to keep, and that persona hadn’t been raised in a palace.
He bit into a modest hunk of sweet and salty pork. On top of charming, Dyraien was also a brilliant cook.
“I’d like to purchase a piano,” Dyraien said.
Tahki swallowed. “A what?”
“A new musical instrument unlike any I’ve heard before. A piano’s sound is so complex, so elegant. I’ve been in love since my last visit to the capital. It’s amazing the kind of emotions a person’s fingers can produce. You’ve never heard one, Tahki?”
Tahki shook his head. “I think I remember reading about them.”
“You cannot read about music, just like you cannot taste the grapes in an oil painting. Music is something to experience. On my next visit to the capital, you’ll have to join me. We’ll see a performance together.”
“Thank you,” Tahki said. “I’d like that very much.” He resumed eating, but Dyraien’s eyes didn’t leave him.
“Tahki,” he said. His voice was calm and kind. “I need a date.”
Tahki peeked up from his potatoes. “A date?”
Dyraien set his fork down. “I need to know when I’ll have the design.”
Tahki remembered the promise he’d made after the cat attack. “Right. Tomorrow. I should have something tomorrow.” He felt a stab of guilt. There was no way he’d have anything by then.
“That’s excellent.” Dyraien beamed. “And it will be better than your last attempt?”
Tahki felt his face flush. “Of course. I think I was nervous the first time. Too eager.”
Dyraien flicked his hand dismissively. “It was Rye’s fault.”
Another jab of guilt. Tahki cleared his throat. “About my first design. I may have pushed Rye to accept it. I don’t think he liked the design, but I insisted. It wasn’t his fault.”
Dyraien raised a brow. “Rye should have known better.”
“Still,” Tahki said. “Please don’t be angry with him.”
Dyraien frowned slightly. “I could never be angry with Rye.”
Tahki looked down at his food.
“You seem very concerned about my brother,” Hona said. She licked the tip of her fork.
Tahki shrugged and tried to seem casual.
“You look like you’re going to explode,” Hona said.
“Excuse me?”
Hona pursed her lips. “All those questions bubbling up inside you, and they’ll pop if you don’t ask.”
“Don’t ask what?”
Hona laughed. It wasn’t a pretty laugh, like he expected her to have, but choppy, like a hiccup. “You want to know why Rye hates me.”
Dyraien reached for one bottle of wine and uncorked it. “Is that really appropriate dinner conversation?”
“Just look at the kid,” Hona said. “He’s bursting to know.”
Dyraien poured the wine. Tahki wondered why he didn’t want him to know more about Rye. Was it for Rye’s protection or some more possessive reason?
“It’s none of my business,” Tahki said. He didn’t like the uncomfortable air that had settled over the table.
Hona twirled her wine and slid her tongue along the edge of the glass. “If I choose to share part of my life story with you, that’s my business.”
“But it’s not your story,” Dyraien said. “And I don’t think Rye would like you airing his past to just anyone.”
Tahki wasn’t just anyone, was he? How could Dyraien act so kind to him one moment and in the next pretend like he was a stranger at his table? Dyraien handed Tahki a glass of wine. It smelled bitter. A dark crimson color stained the top of the glass when he took a polite sip. He’d never had more than a few sips before. If the wine was good or bad, he couldn’t tell. Wine all tasted the same to him. He took a larger gulp, and it burned his throat a little.
“Come on, D,” Hona said. She made a sad face and slid her body forward, her arms stretching across the table like a relaxed cat. “I think he’s earned it. Don’t you?”
Dyraien sipped his wine. “Do as you wish.” His words were tight, confined.
Tahki shivered. He wished a fire burned. Though lightning roots were brighter and gave off no odor, they didn’t provide any warmth.
Hona leaned back and rolled her neck. “Tell me, Tahki. Do you come from a good family?”
Tahki blinked. “A good family?”
“Are you well off?”
Tahki took another gulp of wine. His lips felt thick and heavy with residue. “I guess.”
“You guess,” Hona chimed. “You have
