“Why are you making dinner?” Grev stood in the doorway, looking at them in incomprehension.

“It’s familial,” Ranvir said. “And cozy.”

Sansir didn’t reply, he just grunted from where he was frantically helping Frija cut vegetables. She was standing on a wooden block so she could comfortably reach the counter. They’d found a smaller knife and now she was carefully slicing cucumbers.

Her little tongue peeking past her lips, she double checked her fingers weren’t anywhere near the edge. In a smooth sawing motion, she hammered the knife into the cutting board. Sansir jerked, hands hovering an inch from her form, ready to tear her away.

Not that pulling her away would do much. She’d already have cut herself if that was the case. Ranvir was monitoring her as well. They weren’t far from the academy. He could reach a healer in moments. It was about the safest place she could learn.

“I’m just saying,” Grev said, still lingering in the doorframe. “We hire cooks. Real chefs to cook for us. There’s no reason for this.”

Vasso silently nodded over his vigil. Carefully browning the meat in a pan. Vasso seemed at once both reluctant and eager to learn. Ranvir didn’t get the feeling that he enjoyed the task much, but he enjoyed Ranvir’s cooking even less. Though he’d much rather be somewhere sitting near Laila.

“It’s fun,” Ranvir said. “It’s a family experience. You’ve always grown up having it cooked for you, so you’ve never felt it.”

“Now that’s just hurtful,” he said, deadpan.

“He’s not—“ Sansir stopped as Frija chunked the cutting board again. “He’s not wrong.”

“See.”

“He’s talking about me.”

They both looked to Sansir, who was too busy fidgeting next to Frija to notice. The girl in question giggled, clearly realizing she had him on edge and enjoying it.

“Anyway, I’m going to leave. Find someone more fun to hang out with,” Grev said.

“Good luck!”

He scoffed and disappeared.

“Can I go too, Dad?”

Vasso gave him a pining look.

“How’s the meat?”

“Browned.”

He checked the teenager’s work, then waved him off. Vasso darted out of the room, just as another bit of greens chunked. Frija carefully put her knife down, then straightened. “All done!” she yelled excitedly.

“And I’ve just finished these.” Ranvir handed her a dozen carrots he’d been peeling.

She grumbled and reached for the knife. Pouting, she put the first on the board. It rolled slightly as she tried to place her blade.

“Aren’t you tired of that?” Sansir asked. “You want me to take over?”

She glanced at Ranvir, then shushed him and handed the knife over. Sighing with relief, the ice-tethered took the knife and began cutting the carrots into the strips.

“You’re good at that.” Frija’s whisper carried right to Ranvir’s ears, but he let her play at being sneaky. She giggled when he didn’t notice, then gasped as Sansir slid his first carrot away. “You’re already done?” she reached across the cutting board, nearly punching the knife to inspect it.

“Whoa.” Sansir raised the knife and backed off. “Careful.”

“Of what?” she looked around curiously, then munched on the carrot. It crunched between her teeth and she pulled the rest away to examine more closely. Ranvir turned slightly to see the pensive frown on her face as she masticated on the new flavor. Finally, she snapped another quick bite and walked out of the kitchen, humming a quiet tune.

“She can just go?” Sansir asked.

“Frija’s five,” Ranvir said. “I will not punish her for wanting to help by forcing her to finish it. Maybe when she’s older.”

He cocked his head and looked at Ranvir. “She’s actually pretty sweet.”

“You don’t have to sound surprised about it.”

“I mean, she seems to be doing well. Better than I had expected.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“No, I mean. You were a kid at the academy, and she’d been thrust on you. Then you got thrown, if my understanding is right, into another world. There would be every expectation that she’d come out all kinds of twisted up, being raised like that.”

Ranvir sighed. “She’s a child, still. Give it some time.”

“Give yourself a little credit, Ranvir. Especially for a guy as emotionally stunted as you were.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ranvir actually felt a little heat rise at this comment. Yellow flares of minor anger.

“Come on, Ranvir. You got into a ‘fight,’ if you can call it that, with the biggest, strongest, and most talented tethered in our year. You said to me, and I quote, ‘I’m not sure I see the point in a relationship. It’s just an open wound on the soul.’”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t phrase it like that.”

“The gist is there.”

Ranvir shrugged. “Maybe I was a little messed up.”

“That’s what I’m saying. You’ve come a long way since then. It might not be obvious to you, but it is to me. To the others too, I’m sure.”

“I nearly took down a forest, because my ‘Dada’ made me angry.”

Sansir sighed and finished up the last carrot, sliding them onto a platter. “Returning home can be an extremely emotional affair. Especially when it’s been a long time.”

“Oh? I didn’t see you throwing any fits.”

Sansir began peeling more carrots, his face growing into a frown. Ranvir looked over, just to make sure his senses were correct. He had drawn into a tight expression. Anger, or perhaps...

“Are you okay?”

Sansir sniffed and nodded. “Two years ago, Master Tore got sick.”

“Oh, Sansir. My condolences.”

“He was old, and it finally got to him.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “My mother fell in the spring thaw and broke her hip. Never quite recovered.”

“Both of them?” Ranvir asked, stepping away from the meat. “In one year.”

“It was a rough time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Sansir chuckled and shook his head. “It’s quite a while ago.”

“I’m still sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens.”

“Now, who’s the emotionally immature one?”

Sansir glared at him, the temperature dropping a few notable degrees.

“Sorry,” Ranvir said, holding his hands up. “I—So you have no one else left?”

Sansir sighed and shook his head. “Just the order and Grevor for however much that counts.”

Ranvir’s heart ached a deep bruising purple at seeing his friend. Sansir scraped the skin off the carrot, slicing each with an angry, vicious motion. Green eyes glittering with contained power.

Walking over to Sansir, he took the knife out of his hand. The tall man resisted him at first, before relinquishing it and looking up. Unshed tears glittered, refracting the green inner light, almost making it look yellow in the kitchen’s soft glyph-lights. Ranvir pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I don’t need a hug.” Sansir’s voice was tight.

“Then humor me for a moment. I’ve just gotten back after not seeing you for four years.”

Sansir snorted, but wrapped his arms around Ranvir as well. “You’ve been back for more than a week.”

“That’s basically nothing compared to so many years away.”

Sansir didn’t respond. Ranvir continued holding Sansir, an odd amount of tension filling the air. Like either they were going to burst into tears or throw fists. Then Sansir’s inhales grew shaky.

“I didn’t want to lose her.” He confessed, pulling back. “I just didn’t want to see her die, Ranvir.” Wiping tears from his eyes, he shook his head and returned to the carrots. “She wasn’t even that old. She wasn’t supposed to die so soon.”

Ranvir rubbed his back and returned to the slightly burnt meat. They continued in silence until Frija returned to ask when dinner was.

“I’m hungry.” She complained.

“Go grab another carrot from Sansir.”

“Here you go.”

“Two! Oh yes! Thank you!” she hauled ass out of the kitchen, red curls trailing behind her.

Sansir watched her go, then snapped his attention to Ranvir. “What are you doing?”

Adeeb el-Kader controlled light. A tiny window on a distant mansion magnified until it came into clear focus. A couple people were busy working on what looked to be dinner. The target was immediately obvious. His monster arm and folded wings.

“I found the flesh-torn,” he dictated to the Keeper. The Elusrian would’ve been a liability. They didn’t train their tethered properly, leaving them unable to hide their presence to avoid even a half-hearted scan by a proficient master. Thankfully, they weren’t hiding from an expert, but a deranged kid. “He has wings and a clawed arm.”

He could hear the scratch of chalk on slate as the Keeper noted his observations. The Elusrian had a distinct advantage that was rare in these kinds of situations. He wasn’t a tethered. Since he had no ability, meant he was almost undetectable.

“He’s with three others. A young man, early teens, too dark to be Elusrian, with brown eyes. A young girl, red hair, blue eyes.” He faltered as he examined the last man. “Bald man, early twenties… green eyes.”

The Keeper scratched the notes down. He likely didn’t realize. “The last ones coloring?”

“Dark. Tanned or Ankirian.”

Adeeb watched as the teenager left, then the child. Soon, the monster and the half-blood exchanged words. There appeared to be some tension, but even his power had limits. He couldn’t read their lips or pull the sound to his ears.

“They are hugging, now… for a really long time.” He glanced toward the Keeper, noting the different slates and neat strokes the man used to take notes. Organized, careful, professional.

They observed for longer, then the half-blood’s head snapped towards the monster and their voices sounded clear on Adeeb el-Kader's rooftop.

“What are you doing?”

“Inviting guests.”