Chapter Fourteen: The Locket and the Ledger
The air in the Snow house was warm with the scent of roast chicken, baking cake, and laughter. Streamers in Amaya's favorite shade of blue hung from the ceiling, and a pile of brightly wrapped gifts sat on the sideboard. It was her official family birthday dinner, and for once, the looming pressure of exams felt a million miles away.
"Seventeen!" her father boomed, raising his glass of sparkling cider. "Officially too old for tantrums over botany grades, but still young enough that I have to pay for your faerie books!"
"Dad!" Amaya groaned, but she was grinning. Liam, seated beside her, was already sharpening his verbal knives.
"Oh, I don't know," Liam mused, leaning back with a smirk. "I think some tantrums are age-appropriate. Like, say, the subtle, daily tantrum of staring out the window at a certain neighbor's house."
Amaya kicked him under the table. "I do not."
"You have a dedicated notebook, Amaya," Liam continued, undeterred. "I've seen it. 'Observation Log: Subject A.R. 7:15 AM: Departs house. Facial expression: broodier than a storm cloud. Heart flutters: approximately twelve.' It's very scientific."
Their parents laughed, used to their children's bickering. "Leave your sister alone, Liam. She's allowed to admire a hardworking young man," her mother said, though her eyes twinkled.
"Admire? She's planning a full-scale archaeological dig into his personality. Next, she'll be carbon-dating his coffee mug," Liam retorted, earning another kick.
The doorbell rang, and the teasing paused. "That'll be Elara and Aris," her mother said, getting up. "I invited them for cake."
Amaya's heart performed a complicated gymnastics routine behind her ribs. She instinctively touched the silver swan locket at her throat, a nervous habit she'd developed since the carnival.
Elara entered first, bearing a beautifully decorated chocolate tart. "Happy birthday, Amaya darling!"
And then, behind her, was Aris. He was out of his usual scrubs or study-wear, dressed in simple dark trousers and a charcoal sweater that made his eyes look even more like polished hazel stone. He held a small, neatly wrapped rectangular package.
"Happy birthday," he said, his voice low. His gaze flickered to her, then to the locket, then away, as if the sight of his gift on her was a fact to be clinically noted and filed.
"Thank you for coming," Amaya managed, her voice suddenly slightly breathless.
Dinner was a lively affair. Elara and Amaya's mother chatted easily, while their fathers discussed the upcoming hospital fundraiser. Liam, however, had a new target.
"So, Aris," Liam began, his tone deceptively casual as he passed the potatoes. "Amaya tells me you're the reason her heart diagram no longer looks like a deflated balloon. A true miracle worker."
Aris took a sip of water. "Understanding basic anatomy is not a miracle. It is a requirement."
"Right, right. But between us," Liam leaned forward conspiratorially, "how do you deal with her… creative interpretations? Like the time she labeled the femoral artery as the 'leg river'?"
"Liam!" Amaya hissed, her face flaming.
Aris, however, didn't smile. He looked at Liam, then at Amaya. "She corrects her mistakes. That is what matters. She is a quick study when focused." He said it so matter-of-factly, without a hint of teasing, that it somehow felt like a greater compliment than any flourish.
Liam blinked, momentarily robbed of his punchline. "Well. Yeah. I guess she is."
After dinner, it was time for cake and gifts. Amaya opened presents from her parents—a new leather satchel, a set of high-quality pens—and from Liam, who, despite his teasing, gave her the complete box set of her favorite fantasy series she'd been eyeing.
Finally, Elara handed her a small, soft package. "From me, my dear. Something to keep your new books company." It was a luxuriously soft cashmere blanket in a deep emerald green.
"It's perfect, thank you!" Amaya said, hugging it.
Then, there was only one gift left. The rectangular package from Aris. All eyes turned to him. He seemed to stiffen slightly under the attention, a faint line appearing between his brows.
Amaya carefully undid the wrapping paper. Beneath it was a book. But not a textbook. The cover was embossed with elegant, silvery script against a dark blue background: The Atlas of Forgotten Kingdoms: Myths and Lands Beyond the Map.
Her breath caught. It was a serious, beautiful work of fantasy scholarship, blending myth, history, and intricate cartography. It was the perfect bridge between his world of facts and her world of dreams.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Aris… this is…"
"It is a reference text," he said quickly, his words precise. "The analysis of cultural myth-making has sociological and anthropological merit. It is not entirely without academic value." He was justifying it, rationalizing the choice, building a wall of logic around the gesture.
But Amaya saw past it. He'd listened. He'd remembered her passion. He'd chosen something for her, not just for her grades.
"It's the best gift," she whispered, meaning the book, meaning the locket, meaning the unspoken acknowledgment in his eyes.
"Do not be absurd," he muttered, looking down at his empty dessert plate. "It is merely a book."
"Uh-huh," Liam drawled, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Just a book. And the necklace was just metal. And showing up at the carnival was just a coincidence. You're a regular mystery, Rowon."
Aris shot Liam a look that could have frozen molten lava, but Liam just laughed.
Later, as the Rowons were leaving, Aris lingered a moment by the door while Elara chatted with Amaya's mother. Amaya stood nearby, clutching her new book to her chest.
"Thank you," she said again, softly. "Really."
He looked at her, his gaze serious in the dim hallway light. "Read it. But not instead of your prescribed texts. The cardiovascular system is still paramount."
"I know," she said, smiling. "Leg rivers and all."
For a fleeting second, something like amusement softened the line of his mouth. It was there and gone so fast she might have imagined it. He gave a curt nod. "Goodnight, Amaya."
"Goodnight, Aris."
As the door closed behind him, Liam slung an arm around Amaya's shoulders. "Let's review the evidence, Detective Snow. Gift one: a personal, beautiful piece of jewelry. Gift two: a thoughtful book that proves he pays attention to your non-academic interests. Exhibit C: he tolerates our family dinner and only mildly threatens me with his death-glare."
Amaya hugged the book tighter, her thumb stroking the silver swan at her throat. "So?"
"So," Liam said, steering her towards the kitchen for leftover cake. "The case is looking less and less like a delusion. The boy is keeping a ledger. And whether he admits it or not, you're in the black."