Page 135 of The Satyr's Guilt
Mara cast a curious gaze in Denim’sdirection but kept kneading biscuit dough, every so often wiping awisp of hair off her face.
Volunteering for kitchen duty, Jonquil andDenim peeled tiny potatoes and sliced big chunks of carrots.
“Mara says I need to know about what I putin my stomach. She is very scientific about food. You know,vitamins or stuff.”
When the nanny stepped out for a fewminutes, the girl cupped her mouth with a hand, lowering her voice.“But I’d rather not eat carrots.”
Denim lapped an arm over the Jonquil’sshoulder. “I don’t like them either. When I was quite young, I fedthem to my dog under the table.”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“In times like this, one would come inhandy.”
Mara returned to stand at the stove, liftinga cast iron lid in her hand, smelling the roast. She twisted herneck around as her vivid green irises met Denim’s.
The nanny was a younger version of Marta.The same sharp gaze, knowing glances, keen perceptions.
Mara turned nonchalantly back to the pot.“Jonquil, while we wait, you go pack.”
When the child skipped to her room, Mara setthe spoon on the stove, tapping her foot on the floor as she askedher question. “Spill. What’s really going on?”
Denim glanced toward the doorway,approaching the nanny to whisper. “Ram was grabbed in a raid.”
She heard a gasp from the hall. “Daddy’s introuble?” Jonquil rounded the doorway, obviously spying onthem.
Damn.
“Come here.” Denim led the girl to a chair,pulling the other out for herself. With their knees touching, shetook Jonquil’s hands in hers.
“It’s kind of like he got lost for a while,but his friends are going to find him. Right now, our job is towait… Do you pray, Jonquil?”
“I’m a nymph. I make offerings toGahya.”
“Who is Gahya?”
“The Genitrix. Can we visit her? Her templeis here on the Isle.”
“You’ll have to tell me what to do.”
“My grandmother makes me take fruits orvegetables.”
Once she had prepped everything for dinner,Mara left to join her mate after exchanging numbers with Denim. Sheand Jonquil ate, forks clinking against plates and knives pingingthe butter dish, but the mood was somber.
After clean-up, Denim peeked in the fridge.“You have apples, oranges, potatoes, carrots…” she called over hershoulder to Jonquil.
“No carrots.”
“I agree.”
After a portal ride, followed by a shortwalk, they carried a basket of goodies to a white-columned templestraight out of a Greek myth. Denim kneeled on the stone in frontof Gahya’s marble feet while Jonquil offered the basket of apples,oranges, potatoes, green beans, and zucchini to the goddess.Returning to kneel, her small hand searched for Denim’s. They lacedtheir fingers together, gathering warmth, comfort from eachother.
Ram needed their help. If their prayerswould get him home, if they would give Jonquil something to do toget her daddy back, Denim was all for chatting with a stonestatue.
The child cast her eyes toward the coldgoddess. She whispered prayers while Denim, who regretted nottelling Ram she loved him, squeezed her lids together to offer herown pleas.
Whoever is listening. Bring Ram home.Please. Home to Jonquil. Home to me. I miss the warmth of his body,his cocky smile, his innuendos. Even his crass comments. Hell. Imiss everything about him.
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