Steelhands - Jaida Jones [87]
“I suppose I could write to him,” I acknowledged, since it was slightly less embarrassing than making a special visit just to talk about my hands. I was lucky Adamo hadn’t asked about them yet. He’d given me my privacy out of respect, but I knew it was likely that sensitivity wouldn’t last long.
“At least it’ll let him know the Esar made good on his word about something,” Luvander said with a little wink. “I’m not saying you have to give Adamo her references or her life’s story or anything like that, just let him know you’re being looked after by a real woman who actually exists. It’ll help him to sleep better at night.”
“I had no idea that I was causing you both such worry,” I said, wrestling with the urge to hide my hands behind my back and have done with it.
“Well, it’s not your fault anyway,” Luvander said, patting me on the back in a way that didn’t feel like a sudden or violent assault. “Some of us were born to be miserable bastards; nothing you can do about that. Do you eat brioche? I realize I probably ought to have asked you that before I tracked your house down, but if I’d asked first, it might’ve spoiled the surprise, do you see?”
“I’ll eat anything as long as it’s cooked properly,” I admitted, not even bothered by the abrupt change in topic, even though I could tell it was for my sake.
“You’re in luck, then,” Luvander said, “since it just so happens that these are baked to perfection. They’re from a dear little place two doors down from my shop, in fact. The baker’s daughter likes me, so I get them for free, and she gets a discount on any purchase of a hat or gloves she might care to make.”
“That sounds like a very fair arrangement,” I said, turning down the heat on my stove and putting the eggs away for another day.
“I’m becoming positively established there now; one day you won’t be able to imagine the old Rue without me,” Luvander added, returning to his box and flipping it open. Inside it were two enormous brioche buns, glazed and studded with what looked like chips of dark chocolate. Upon seeing them, my mouth immediately began to water. It was certainly much better than any omelet I’d been about to make.
“That’s breakfast?” I asked, unable to help myself. “It seems more like dessert.”
“And yet it goes down perfect with some tea,” Luvander said, grinning. “I could put them on plates if you’ve got ’em, but I’m not so fancy that I can’t eat out of a box, either. We’ve both seen worse, and any further elaboration on that point will cause me to lose my appetite entirely.”
We paused for a moment to remember the time Compagnon had made us all soup in Merritt’s boots—mushroom barley, if I recalled correctly, though some of the lumps were neither mushroom nor barley, but more like lint from his socks.
“I’ll make some tea,” I said at last since that seemed to be what Luvander was hinting at. “But I do hope you don’t mind if I decline to invite my upstairs neighbors.”
“Not at all,” Luvander said with an airy wave of his hand. “It’s cozier this way, and I plan to entertain myself by going through your personal things. Couldn’t do that in front of company, now could I?”
“I’m told elephants have excellent manners,” I said, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove to warm.
Behind me, I could hear Luvander making good on his word, rustling around the room and tossing things aside more like a trained hunter’s dog than a person. I felt the familiar thrum of anxiety and nervous energy running through me, as it always did when my private life was under assault, but it wasn’t nearly so unpleasant as it had once been. Perhaps I’d just forgotten how embarrassing it could be.
Then again, Luvander was only one person—he could hardly gang up on me with the force of the entire corps.
My fingers slipped against the plates before I managed to get a firm grasp on them, but that was a characteristic of the metal and nothing to do with my own clumsiness. I caught them, putting them to right, and coming back into the sitting room feeling nearly triumphant. At the very least, Luvander wasn’t just over my shoulder,