Chapter 28: Of Gentle Lessons and Borrowed Breakfasts
Lyria's POV
Patricia's smile lingered after my promise, soft and careful, as though she feared it might fade if she moved too quickly.
Then, with a small flick of her fingers, she brushed the heaviness from the air as neatly as one might sweep crumbs from a table.
Her hands rose.
'Enough of sad things,' she told me with warm eyes. 'What new words have you learnt?'
The question startled a laugh out of me before I could stop it.
I shifted closer to the narrow table and slipped the small primer, along with the bread, the cheese, and the apple I had hidden so carefully beneath my skirts.
I laid them out one by one.
The thin little book first.
Then the wrapped wedge of cheese.
The hard bread.
And finally, the apple.
Patricia's shoulders shook.
The sound that escaped her was husky and light at the same time, the faint breath of laughter carried without a voice.
Her hands lifted at once.
'Did you steal the apple?'
