Camellia had already lost her restoration position. In fact, she hadn’t been able to return, as she’d been too sick to work, a mere five weeks after they got home. She felt better now, but the AAH had a policy against pregnant women standing for long hours. Of course, restoration required long hours of standing.

The utmost care had to be given to the object under restoration, not the restorer. So, if the restorationist had to stand to get the proper angle, then so be it. If the restorationist had to kneel on a hard floor, then they would. If the restorationist had to spend seventy-two hours on a ladder, then they might spend eighty, just for good measure. Some restorationists were even willing to hang from the ceiling.

Camellia could restore from a stool or a chair, but as circumstances went, there just weren’t many artifacts small enough for her to comfortably work on. Artifacts of that size were safe in their storage boxes and museum displays. What few pieces did need restoration weren’t set to return from their tours in other country’s museums for a year.

At least, that’s what Florian suggested. Camellia found it hard to believe there was nothing small to work on. Instead, she suspected he tried to keep her away from restoration chemicals and the road that led from their house to Presereme, especially after a nasty carriage accident a few months prior.

So, she sat in her house and reviewed research and papers. He sent as many of those as he could. Yet, she’d been through her work for the day, and it was only the start of the afternoon.

Camellia sighed. In an hour, she would sleep. It passed the time, and she couldn’t remember the last time she got a daytime nap, every day.

Camellia sat in her favorite chair, a tall backed, soft thing. She had a little piece of jewelry, nothing special or historically relevant, but she brushed it clean. Florian found it in the dirt, on the road home, and gave it to her. He was trying. It was a balance between his wants and hers. So far, his won.

The work was easy. It was so easy she could think about all the people she’d seen die over recent years. It was her brain’s idea of fun. Countless older anthropologists. Her mother. Cernunnos.

“Not now.” Camellia shooed the air around her head, as if the thoughts would be scared off by a few good swats.

She brushed grime from the little broach of green grapes. It would be a beautiful thing when she finished. It reminded her of her father’s small grapevine. The Zaris farm didn’t grow enough grapes to sell, but they grew enough to eat and drink themselves. Camellia’s mother loved the grapevine, and Camellia could almost see how someone would put up with Viorel just to have fresh grapes and other little perks.

It had been what some would call a long time since her mother died. Over two years, and Camellia had more or less come to terms with it. Though, it bothered her that their son would have no grandmother. He would have no grandfather either, and even Cernunnos couldn’t fill the role.

Cernunnos – He was a long time gone too.

Camellia put the grape broach aside. She didn’t like to wear pins, which was fine. The broach lost its fastener, so Camellia would give it a new life. Now was the perfect time to be something else.

Slowly, Camellia rose from the chair. She waited a moment for her blood to recirculate and reach both her feet and her head. During the day, Camellia felt infirm. At night, she felt like her old self. She debated a nocturnal schedule, but she wanted to see more than Florian’s sweet sleeping form.

Who knew how long they had before the Volanter showed up again? She couldn’t waste their time together sleeping opposite schedules.

Camellia strolled to the stairs. She would just nap early. It was the safest way to shut off her thoughts. As she passed the front door, the bell rang. Camellia grabbed the handle and pulled it open.

Eder jumped. “Do you wait by the door?”

“No, no. You just caught me while I was walking by.” Camellia smiled. “Come in.” She stepped aside and waved him over the threshold.

“Hey, I can’t stay long. I’m going to meet some of the apprentices for lunch, but Florian asked me to bring these to you.” Eder held up a paper bag and a big envelope.

Camellia knew what was inside the bag. Food. She could smell it as well as if it were night, and at night, she could smell a meal from a mile off.

Camellia took the bag. She smelt chicken, cheese, and bread inside, possibly pressed flat into a sandwich. Camellia opened the bag and peeked in to find a wrapping in just such a shape. She laughed.

Then, she snatched the enveloped. She also knew what it contained: papers. More work!

Florian, her knight in shining armor, had sent her food and work.

Camellia hugged the envelope to her chest and held the bag at her side. “Thank you for bringing it, and if you see Florian later today, thank him profusely for me.”

Eder smiled and gave Camellia a short nod. “Happy to be of help.” He turned to leave but quickly turned back. “Hey, should I bring anything for dinner tomorrow?”

Camellia shook her head. “Just yourself.”

Camellia didn’t have Cernunnos or her old family, but she and Florian had Eder. Eder, who now thrived in his new position, didn’t know how happy Camellia was to have him nearby.

Eder tipped his hat and started down the steps. “Alright, it’ll just be me. Well, I’ve got to go. Bye.” Eder waved his farewell.

Camellia couldn’t wave with her prizes in hand, so she smiled as she watched him leave. Then, she closed the door with her foot. She put her lunch on the tiled floor and twisted the lock closed. If yesterday was any indication, Camellia was going to eat, fall asleep, and then wake up to read papers. She would not be able to guard or defend herself if someone wandered in.

No one would wander into Camellia’s abode, but anxious thoughts would always be a pastime of hers.

With both prizes in hand, Camellia headed to the kitchen. She left the sacred envelope of papers on a clean counter and got ready to eat.