by T D Cloud
“Yes, ma’am,” Khouri went, reaching for the spice mixture next to his bowl. It was very different from the spices they used down in the Duskriven, and Khouri couldn’t get enough of the scent.
“Yes, ma’am?” Sorin echoed. “Wow. She’s really got you trained up, hasn’t she? You’ll have to tell me how you managed that. I can never get him to behave.”
Khouri turned to snap at him, but a loud crack cut him off before he could. Khouri jolted, mouth falling open as Sorin broke the arm? claw? off one of the bug-lobsters. Sorin tossed the claw into a waiting pot and then tore off the other. “Is that thing still alive?” Khouri whispered, feeling himself pale. The body of the thing wiggled and writhed, the antenna moving slowly in the air as it waited for its other limbs to be torn from its body.
Khouri winced when it didn’t have long to wait. Sorin let out a laugh, making fun of him for it. “It doesn’t feel it,” he said, shoving his hair out of his face with his shoulder. He tossed the last of the claws into the pot and then threw in the body as well. Afterward, he reached for the knife Mastha held out for him to begin on the fish. He carried the big fish over to the cutting block, laying it out before lifting his hand to lop off the head with one hard swing.
The scent of blood filled the air, mixing strangely with the apples and spices already permeating the kitchen. Khouri quickly finished his apples and poured them into the big pot on the stove, standing on his toes to make sure every last piece of apple made it inside. With that done, he moved to the sink and tackled the dishes quickly as Mastha began pulling out seasonings, baking sheets, and all sorts of things Khouri had no name for.
They worked quietly and intently like that. Khouri sneaked glimpses at Sorin, who definitely did the same back. They smiled when they caught one another, and Mastha would snort when she noticed and tell them to get back to work. It was a fun rhythm, if embarrassing.
Soon enough, Khouri finished the dishes. He wiped his hands on his apron before slipping over to Sorin to watch him work. Leaning against the man’s warm back, Khouri rested his chin against Sorin’s arm. “What’s that?” he wondered, watching as Sorin deftly pulled back the shells from little versions of the lobsters. With the point of his knife, he ran a line down the inner portion, slitting it open to pull out the innards. Their beady black eyes glistened wetly in the light of the kitchen.
Khouri swallowed, wrinkling his nose at it.
“Prawns,” Sorin said, tossing the finished one into the waiting bowl before reaching for the next. The corner of his lip twitched upwards in a smile when Khouri kissed his chin teasingly; short as he was, it was all he could reach. “You’ll like them. They’re sweet.”
“Sweet?” Khouri had a little trouble believing that. The apples had been sweet as had the jam they’d been making all day from them. But that? Those weird, pink little bugs? Khouri rested more of his weight on Sorin’s shoulder. “You’re crazy.”
Sorin gave him an unimpressed side eye, tossing the last prawn into the bowl. Mastha took it up and moved to the stove, dropping them into something Khouri recognized as a steam basket. “Don’t be picky,” he murmured, watching his sister set in on the fish next. Spices and lemon and all sorts of interesting looking things appeared from the cabinets, and once they were packed onto the big fillets the way she wanted, Mastha popped it into the oven.
“Make sure you don’t overcook it,” Sorin warned, earning himself a glare from Mastha. He wiped off his hands and moved to the table, dragging out a chair and sitting himself down in it heavily. Khouri followed. “I’d hate for Khouri’s first taste of cod to be a bad one.”
“Who do you think I am? Mom?” Mastha huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter as she took in the two of them together. “I know how to cook fish.”
“I’ll eat it either way,” Khouri chimed in, looking between then curiously. He let out a little sound when Sorin snagged him by the waist and tugged him down onto his knee. “If it’s anything like breakfast was it’ll be amazing.”
“Kiss ass,” Sorin muttered, bouncing Khouri on his knee to unbalance him a little.
“Don’t give him shit just because he’s got manners and you don’t,” Mastha laughed, moving to the door to pop her head outside. She shouted to her children, “Lunch!” and then came back inside to check on the fish. “Better eat up, Sorin. You’ll need all the energy you can get for what I have planned for you after.”
Sorin snorted, nuzzling the back of Khouri’s neck with his scratchy beard. “Ominous,” he said, sneaking a couple kisses while Mastha had her back turned. “At this rate, we won’t be able to spend any time together at all. You’ll be trapped here in the kitchen with Mastha the whole trip.”
“Someone has to be here to clean up your messes,” Khouri said, his cheeks warm despite the innocence of the touch.
“See? I like you, Khouri,” Mastha said, bringing over a few bowls and plates to begin setting the table. “What you’re doing with someone like my brother is beyond me. Did you know he used to wade into the tide to taunt the crabs, and he’d come running home bleedin’ from his toes and fingers cryin’ for Mom? Don’t let him act cool— Sorin here is a class act fool.”
“Mastha!”
Mastha raised a brow, smirking as Khouri tried to hide his grin behind a hand that hid absolutely nothing. The two bickered in a way that Khouri assumed siblings did. It got harder to smother his glee, so he stopped trying. They shared a laugh at Sorin’s expense and then a few more after that as the stories kept coming. Khouri’s cheeks were hot now, but... it felt good. He liked seeing this side of Sorin, and he certainly liked hearing about all the embarrassing things Sorin did as a kid. If there was one thing Mastha was generous with besides food, it was stories.
Little by little, the food began to make its way to the table as she talked and dodged Sorin’s pathetic swipes. Khouri knew he should help, but Sorin held onto his hips, holding him in place instead. The shiny red prawns steamed gently on their platter, and the lobster looked fluffy and tender peeking out of its cracked shell. Lemons and butter speckled the table at regular intervals, and though Khouri wasn’t sure why it was there, he could only be excited to find out. The large fish came last but certainly not least. Khouri’s mouth filled with saliva as Mastha sat it down in the middle of it all, the scent of herbs and citrus a heady greeting for the meal Khouri couldn’t wait to begin.
Compared to the sort of things found in the Undersea, Khouri had to think this looked far more inviting if only for the absence of sharp teeth. Would it taste as good as it looked?
“It smells really good,” Khouri said, looking at Sorin carefully. “You know. For bugs.”
“They aren’t bugs—” Sorin tried to say only to be interrupted by the sound of the door banging against the wall. The kids ran in, grubby handed and hungry, and Khouri sat himself a little straighter on Sorin’s knee, smiling when Sorin squeezed his thigh beneath the table. “Just try a bite,” Sorin whispered, kissing his ear quickly as the kids all washed their hands at the sink. “I bet you anything you’ll like it.”
Anything? Anything at all… “I’ll take that bet,” Khouri said, snatching one of the bright red prawns from the plate. He wasn’t sure how to eat it or even what it would taste like, but Sorin seemed sure, and the kids looked excited to dig in too.
Khouri took a bite, losing himself in the warmth around him.
Huh. It did taste sweet. A weird texture but it really was good. Khouri tried to frown at Sorin, but Sorin just smiled back knowingly, not buying it for a second.
“Told you so,” Sorin said, turning his attention towards the kids rushing to sit down and fill their plates.
“Oh! Who got the lobster?” Heddi exclaimed, immediately laying claim to one of the cups of melted butter.
“You can thank your Uncle Sorin for that— Don’t you dare try to do that yourself, Yula! You wait for me to help you!” Mastha ordered, rushing from seat to seat, helping small hands crack open bright red
claws and portioning out sections of the steaming, flaky fish. She barked out for Sorin to help her, and Khouri slid into his own seat easily, fighting the smile teasing his lips when Sorin helped him crack open his own lobster.
He had a feeling he was going to like it here, bugs and all.
Chapter Three
Every day began the same, a sort of routine forming that Khouri found simple to slip into. Like a well worn pair of boots or a favorite pair of trousers, the days here felt comfortable.
Breakfast was always tasty, the conversation always light- hearted and fun. Mastha would wait until the children had gone out to play before handing him another missive found on the doorstep come morning. The words were familiar there too.
Come home soon, Khouri. Things are terrible without you here.
Khouri wrapped his arms around his knees and narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun coming in off the sea. The day was warm, the breeze gentle, and the sound of laughter could be heard from further down the beach as Yula and Jarrett played near the shore. They had been at it for an hour or two, Heddi waving off their games to go read while Mastha did the canning. Khouri had nothing to do in the interim.
Well, nothing beyond sit there and wonder why those routine letters left him feeling so unsettled when everything else around him told him to sit back and relax.
He let out a breath and pretended it wasn’t a sigh. He clenched his fingers tighter, worrying the soft cotton of another borrowed shirt in his hands. Sorin was off doing a chore or two, and it left Khouri alone to wonder this and that. Navidae had a lot of pride. He’d gotten better about showing his vulner- abilities with their time apart. The distance made him more susceptible to admitting his needs, his fears. He was saying more in his letters than Khouri had expected, but there was always more buried between the lines of looping script. There was something Navidae wasn’t saying. Something that Khouri couldn’t put his finger on.
Sorin had told him he was reading too deeply into things.
Navidae was being clingy, impatient. Their traveling would end in a few months. He’d told him to just be patient and try and enjoy himself.
It was just hard to do that when the weight in his stomach grew heavier and heavier with every unsolicited message Navidae dropped at the front door each day.
The kids laughed louder, and Jarrett let out a loud whoop, brandishing some flat white thing into the air. Khouri blinked and came back to the present. He was probably ruminating too much over this. Here he was at the verge of where the horizon met sea, and all he could bring himself to do was wallow in worry of what Navidae was up to hundreds of miles beneath their feet. He made himself smile. There was plenty around here worth smiling for. Yula jumped, hands outstretched, shrieking for him to let her see. It looked fun, whatever it was they were up to. Maybe he could—
“You know you can go over and play with them,” a low, humored voice spoke in Khouri’s ear.
Khouri’s heart stuttered, but his body certainly didn’t. He jolted hard enough to tip himself over, his back hitting Sorin’s shins before he could catch himself against the sand. “Shit!” Khouri swore, defaulting to his native tongue. His heart hammered in his chest. He covered it with a hand as he glared up at Sorin angrily.
“What the fuck, Sorin?” Khouri hissed, mindful of the young ears just down the hill from them. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Sorin, of course, laughed, shifting the fish traps balanced on his shoulder a little higher as he nudged Khouri off his legs. “What? I didn’t sneak at all. It’s not my fault if you’re so busy moping that you don’t hear me behind you,” he said, amused and infuriating in equal measure. “Seriously though. You can go down and play with them. They won’t eat you.”
Khouri frowned and pushed himself back into his sitting position, dusting the bloomers off before the sand could find its way inside. “I... didn’t want to bother them,” he said quietly. He hadn’t been good company since they all broke from breakfast. A frown twisted his lips at the thought, so he tilted his head back, hoping that taking in Sorin a little better might soften it before it stuck fast.
Sorin had been absent most of the afternoon, a new list of chores in hand for him to complete before Mastha would deign to let him come inside for dinner. Whatever he was meant to be doing now had him dressed down, his trousers rolled up to the knee and his thin shirt unbuttoned and open. His hair was bound at the base of his neck, and every time the wind blew by, a few strands made their way inside the netted cage, caught like reeds in the surf. It was a good look on him. While Khouri had been sitting here obsessing over letters, Sorin had been enjoying himself. He’d been falling back into his old life, and it suited him better than anything Khouri had ever seen of him yet.
“Yeah, well, I think they’d welcome a new victim to their games,” Sorin said, breaking Khouri from his staring. The bridge of his nose was darkened oddly. So were his cheeks. “What’s the matter? You scared of a couple of ankle-biters?”
“I’m not scared,” Khouri muttered, turning his head to glare at the sand between his toes.
“I mean, it’d make sense if you were.”
Khouri lifted his head, an odd feeling in his stomach. “It would?”
Sorin grinned. “You probably aren’t used to having people at eye level,” he said, and Khouri’s frown took root so fast that it made the man laugh. “It can be intimidating, can’t it?”
Khouri didn’t bother giving Sorin any warning when he kicked out his foot and went for the man’s knees. Sorin swore and stumbled, nearly dropping the big cage as Khouri clung to his leg and did everything he could do to take the man down with him. “What the—” Sorin grunted, laughing beneath his fake anger. “Let go before I drag your scrawny ass into the water and use you for bait!”
“You deserve this!” Khouri hissed, tripping Sorin enough that he had to drop the cage else risk falling over completely. It hit the ground hard and began to roll down the hill a bit, and while Sorin was distracted looking at it, Khouri took the chance it was to wrap himself around Sorin’s leg entirely, sitting on the man’s foot.
“What is going on up there?!” a small voice shouted.
Khouri froze; Sorin grinned. They both looked down towards the beach to see Yula and Jarrett standing at the foot of the hill, hands shielding their eyes from the glare of the sun as they stared at them in bewilderment. Khouri quickly let go of Sorin’s leg, covering his face with his hands.
“Oh, Gods,” Khouri whined. This was so embarrassing.
“They’ve noticed you,” Sorin said in a fake whisper. Khouri lifted his head, but all it did was make Sorin smile at his miserable pout. “Guess that means we have to go over there, right?”
Khouri’s eyes went wide. Before he could protest it, Sorin let out a mean laugh and grabbed Khouri under the arms, lifting him off the ground and over his shoulder to lay where the cage once had. Khouri kicked and flailed, begging him to stop, but they were moving down the hill regardless. A wave of fire overtook Khouri’s cheeks, and he covered his face with his hands. This was so mortifying. He was going to dump an entire bottle of poison on Sorin’s side of the bed tonight, that was for sure.
“Woah, Khouri gets carried? I want to be carried!” a high pitched voice sounded, prompting Khouri to drag his hands down his cheeks and face the fact that he had been found out. Yula was at Sorin’s side, staring up at him with wide, envious eyes. In her hand, she held a few shells. The rest were laid out in a pile next to a small spool of thin thread.
“It’s not as much fun as it looks,” Khouri said bitterly, wriggling again to try and kick Sorin somewhere soft. He grunted when Sorin just snagged his ankle in his free hand and then yelped when he was unceremoniously dumped off his shoulder and into his arms. “Put me down!” he muttered, blushing horribly as Sorin bounced him in his arms. “Don’t you have chores to be doing?”
Sorin had the audacity to pretend to think about it. The smirk on his face ruined it completely. There was so
mething about the beach that seemed to turn Sorin into a big kid, and Khouri tried not to let it show on his face how good a look it was on him. He had a feeling Sorin knew, especially when he swung Khouri around and sat him down on the sand.
“Thanks for reminding me,” he said, ruffling Khouri’s hair with fingers that lingered just a little too long to be innocent. “Do you mind keeping an eye on Khouri for me?” Sorin asked, ignoring Khouri’s protests that it was unnecessary. Sorin just shoved him a little off balance, pushing him onto his ass. “He’s probably never seen shells like these before. Why don’t you show him the ropes while I get those traps fixed up?”
“You really don’t have to—” Khouri tried to say, but Yula and Jarrett were too quick to be deterred. They latched onto his hands and dragged him over to their section of sand, pushing him to sit before he could gather the willpower to fight back.
“It’s easy, so you don’t gotta worry,” Yula said, plopping down beside Khouri with a huff. She scooted right up against his side and scooped up a handful of shells to deposit into his lap. “I’ll show you how to make a necklace.”
Jarrett sat himself down in front of Khouri, dragging their big pile of materials closer with a lopsided grin. “Yeah, it’s really easy,” he said, patting Khouri’s knee with a hand gritty with sand. “‘S more fun with new people anyway. Yula is a nightmare to teach.”
“Hey, I don’t need teaching!” Yula insisted, kicking sand at her brother for his words.
“I think he’s in good hands with the two of you,” Sorin said, arms crossed as he assessed them from above. “The maturity level is about the same.”
There weren’t words to describe how unimpressed Khouri was with that assessment. Instead, he settled on glaring at Sorin until the man took the hint to be on his way before Khouri did something he probably shouldn’t in front of kids too young to see such violence in action. Sorin let out another laugh and put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. Yula patted Khouri on the hand, pulling his attention away from her uncle to instead give her the attention she wanted.