Chapter 211: Reunion 3

When the day came to an end, Elias didn’t go to his classmates. He wandered off into the streets of the Torzi empire, leaving Yvonne to chase after him like a princess who had lost her shoe.

She caught up to him in the closest market to the arena.

"Wait up! Do you even know where you’re going?"

"Hm. Sort of." He muttered.

She grabbed his arm, locking hers around his and leaned forward to look at his blindfolded face.

"So you don’t."

He looked at her, stared for a short while and then laughed. "I know where I am going."

"You’re terrible at lying Elias." She rolled her eyes.

"That way," he pointed forward. "Leads to the Dashad household."

Her brows shot up. "you do know something."

"Of course." He nodded. "Did you forget that I can see the whole empire?"

She cringed her brows, looking around, lowered her voice and got on her toes. "Don’t say that out loud. You’ll seriously creep people out."

He looked ahead. Ninety nine percent of the attention of the market was on them.

Her hand came up and grabbed his chin, soft fingers pulling his face back to her.

"Let’s go to my place."

He subconsciously leaned down. "Is there food?"

"There is."

"Can you make it yourself?"

"Yes."

"No. You can’t cook."

She released a dramatic gasp and went back to her normal stand. "You dare..."

"I’d rather eat street food." He poked her forehead.

"No! I can cook!"

"If you can cook, I’ll eat my hat."

"Elias, you’re not wearing a hat."

"Too bad."

Despite the bickering, they were already heading to her house.

The gates of the Sharad household rose ahead, white stone gone gold in the evening light. Two guards straightened when they saw her with her visitor and opened the gates.

They walked in.

"So? What do you think?"

"Impressive." He muttered.

"It’s odd when a person with a blindfold on is giving reviews on houses."

He chuckled.

The prime minister received them at the door with joy. As soon as they stepped in, Yvonne seized Elias by the sleeve and dragged him off to the kitchen."

Gena who came in at the same time saw them.

"She... brought him home?!"

Her father glanced at her. "Yeah. I hope he stays."

Gena’s eyes returned to the kitchen for a moment longer, then she went inside, took a bath and changed her clothes.

When she returned for dinner, she met only her father at the table.

"You’re alone?"

"Should I not be?" The prime minister shrugged.

To him, homemade food from his daughter was preferable to their company.

Gena walked to the kitchen and stood by the open door. She looked in.

"Well?" Yvonne demanded.

She had her hair rolled into a bun, peeping at Elias who sat on the counter. He held a spoon and lifted the soup into his mouth.

"Well?" She asked again. "Say something."

"It’s good."

"Just good?"

"It’s very good."

"Say it."

"Say what?"

"That you were wrong about my ability not to cook."

"I said it’s good."

"That’s not the same thing!"

"It’s the closest you’re getting." He took another bite, and she saw the corner of his mouth tug upward.

"You smiled!"

"Is it rare?"

"In the past, yes." She leaned on the counter and smiled. "You smile a lot now."

"Thanks for the compliment but I’m not sharing."

She scoffed. "I made the dish!"

"I don’t care."

Gena’s lip folded. They didn’t even notice her.

***

By nightfall, the guest room was prepared for Elias.

She repaired it herself, changing the beddings into a dark sheet and removing the bright curtains. In an hour, she had transformed the room into a dark palace.

"So, what’d you think?"

He walked inside.

"I don’t like it."

She scoffed. "Liar."

He walked to the wall instead of answering. Four portraits hung there in heavy frames, and he stopped at the middle one, a woman with white hair and a calm, amused mouth, painted in the soft colors of an older era.

He looked at it for a long time. Then he looked at Yvonne.

"You look like her."

"Everyone says that." She came to stand beside him, her eyes on the painting. Her smile slowly diminished . "She died of illness while I was away."

He didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t offer sympathy or tell her it was all right, and she realized that was why she didn’t mind. She didn’t need it.

"Okay, I’ll take the room." He turned.

She burst into laughter. "You’re surprisingly picky!"

She ran after him.

***

Outside the guest room, the prime minister paced.

Up the corridor. Back down. Up again. His hands clasped behind him, then at his sides, then behind him once more.

He had no problem with the visitor, but the door had been shut for a long while now. Too long. There had been voices at first, then laughter, then nothing.

Nothing was worse. He was getting anxious.

Gena sat on the stairs a few steps away, chin on her knees, watching him wear a path into the carpet.

"You said you hope he stays."

"Yeah, but not in the same room!"

Gena rolled her eyes. "Then go up there and get her out."

"That’s rude to the guest."

"It’s pretty rude already since she had been clinging onto him!"

He glared at her, and she looked back with an eye roll.

Another minute passed. Then another. By the third, something in him snapped.

"That’s it."

He stomped toward the guest room, his steps heavy enough to rattle the vases in the corridor, and raised his hand to knock, then to push, then to throw the door open and say something stern and fatherly that he hadn’t fully composed yet.

But the door was already ajar.

He froze with his hand in the air.

Then, he peeped in.

The lamp had burned low. On the bed, the two of them lay in the tangled mess of children in a sleepover. Yvonne was sprawled sideways with one foot hanging off the edge and her hair half out of its bun. Elias lay across the other end at an angle that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, one arm flung over his blindfold.

The prime minister lowered his hand.

All the stern words he’d rehearsed left him at once. He stood there for a moment, and the lines in his face softened into something he’d have been embarrassed to let anyone see.

Then he smiled, and very quietly, he shut the door.

When he turned around, Gena was standing right behind him.

"Well?" she whispered.

"They’re asleep."

"Asleep?" Her eyes narrowed. "Just asleep?"

"Just asleep." He patted her head and started down the corridor, humming under his breath. "Go to bed, Gena."

She stayed there a moment longer, staring at the closed door with an expression that couldn’t decide between relief and irritation. Then she huffed and followed her father down the hall.