The Reckless Oath We Made(14)

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” I said.

“And this is Elana, Gentry’s sister,” Charlene said.

“Lady Elana,” the girl said.

“Well, Lady Elana, this is Lady Zhorzha,” Bill said.

I didn’t know what to make of the fact that she looked starstruck. She held out her hand, so I took it very gently, because it seemed too fragile to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Elana,” I said.

The starstruck fell off that fast. She squinted at me and pulled her hand back.

“You’re not really Lady Zhorzha. You don’t talk right at all.”

I looked at Charlene and Bill, hoping for some help, but she rolled her eyes and he was trying not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, but I really am Zhorzha,” I said. Elana wasn’t convinced.

“Dinner’s about ready. Why don’t you get Marcus up and herd the boys this way?” Charlene said.

Marcus came awake the way he always did, as belligerent as a prizefighter, but I rousted him out and got him to the bathroom. Just like Gentry had said, his room was next to mine. Because Charlene had told me to “herd the boys” to dinner, I knocked, but the door wasn’t latched, and it swung open.

The room was almost identical to the guest room. Two twin beds. Two nightstands. Only it wasn’t a bedroom. It was an armory with beds in it. All over the walls, hanging off hooks and sitting on shelves, were swords and helmets and shields and pieces of armor I didn’t know the names for. Chain mail shirts and big metal gloves. And more swords. And knives. And an axe. And a thing that looked like an axe on a long pole.

“My lady,” Gentry said, as he stood up from the foot of his bed, wearing nothing but boxers. Of course, because he’d just taken a shower, and I’d barged into his room without being invited. At least Trang was dressed.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting the door—”

“You do have swords,” Marcus said. He pushed past me so I couldn’t close the door, and stood there as saucer-eyed as I felt, staring at all the glittering blades.

“I have, Master Marcus.” With us there as an audience, Gentry pulled on a T-shirt and shorts. Still barefoot, he stepped up onto his bed, lifted the biggest sword off the wall, and brought it down to us. It was a two-handed sword, and it must have been heavy, but Gentry didn’t have any trouble with it.

“It’s big,” Marcus said. It was taller than him. He stared at it with the kind of amazement that was usually reserved for giant Christmas trees and people in superhero costumes.

“Yea,” Gentry said. He looked off to his left and laughed. “A bastard sword for a bastard.”





CHAPTER 8





Charlene



Zee was not quite what I expected. White and redheaded, that much I knew, because Gentry had described her as “flame-haired and fair.” Nobody had had the sense to put the girl in a hat when she was little, and she was freckled all across her cheeks and down to her décolletage. She was taller than Gentry by several inches, at least five eleven. I’d imagined her as a delicate Arthurian princess, but she was solid, with a broad, nervous smile. Trying hard to be polite, but the kind of girl who puts on her good manners like clean, white church gloves. Not the sort of thing you wear all the time.

Because we had guests, I made dinner milder than usual. So many kids weren’t used to eating anything but chicken nuggets, and Marcus did pick out and eat some chicken and potatoes, but most of his dinner was the cheese toast I served on the side. Zee, I got the impression, would have eaten anything I put in front of her, to be polite. The only way to tell she didn’t care for it was that she turned down seconds.

Gentry of course didn’t. As he was coming back to the table with his and Trang’s bowls, Elana whispered to him, “You said her hair was pretty.”

Gentry hesitated, setting the bowls down before he answered her: “’Tis.”

“’Tis not.”

“Elana. We do not talk about our guests.” I gave her a warning look, but the little sass box ignored me.

“’Tis not,” she said.

Gentry sat down and picked up his spoon. Then he put it back down.

“Sister, thou shalt make me wroth if thou art uncourteous to Lady Zhorzha,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Zee said.

“He said your hair was red, but it’s orange,” Elana said.

“It’s from eating too many carrots.” Zee reached over and took a chunk of carrot out of Elana’s bowl and ate it. That made Elana giggle. Gentry smiled, and then Elana couldn’t decide whether she liked Zee or was jealous.

We usually watched a little TV before Elana’s bedtime, but there was an immediate problem when Zee sat on the couch next to Marcus, and Gentry sat on the floor in front of her. I could tell the whole day was wearing on him, because as soon as he sat down, he started stimming. One hand at first, scratching his neck. Then after a few minutes, both hands scratching his shoulders, so that his arms were pressed up near his ears with his elbows pointed up.

“Does your back itch?” Zee said. “I can scratch it for you. If you want.”

I thought it would go nowhere. Sometimes he went so far away when he was stimming that it was hard to get him back. After a few minutes, though, he nodded and scooted back far enough that he could have leaned against her legs.