37

A life of leisure, it turned out, did not suit Sonya well. Perhaps she had enjoyed it the first few days. In fact, it might have even been somewhat restorative. She’d slept in late, enjoyed long breakfasts with Jorge and his family, explored the sprawling Cassa Estío, and listened to the musicians that came nightly to play for the family in the small auditorium that seemed to have been constructed expressly for that purpose.

But after those first few days, she began to feel restless. She was supposed to be getting stronger without asking the Lady for another boon so that she could return to Izmoroz and challenge Mordha again. That meant honing her fighting ability more sharply than ever. Yet how was she supposed to do that? It wasn’t like she could just go out and find some bandits to kill. Jorge had made it clear that as a guest of the Elhuyar, her behavior reflected on them, and there was that whole balance between the Great Families thing. She didn’t want to complain. It would have been insulting not to show gratitude toward the family that had taken her in. So she tried her best to adapt and behave.

But without anything else to focus on, her anxiety increased. Past regrets returned over and over again. Why had she trusted the Uaine so completely? How had she convinced herself that, unlike every other Ranger who ever lived, the people of Izmoroz loved rather than feared her? And perhaps because she was now surrounded by Jorge’s family, she thought constantly of her own. How could she have failed her brother so badly? Was he okay? Alive, at least? What about her mother? What was Irina Turgenev doing? Where was she? Was she safe? Happy? And why was Sonya such a terrible sister and daughter that she was only now wondering these things? These thoughts raced through her mind, making her restive and ill-humored.

To quiet her troubled mind in the late hours of the day once everyone else had retired to their rooms, Sonya began to raid the prodigious liquor cabinets of the Elhuyar household. Nearly every night she drank herself into unconsciousness as quickly as possible with an unhealthy desperation. And invariably she would suffer for it the next morning.

“Sonya.” Jorge’s expression was uncharacteristically firm as they sat around the table for breakfast one morning in the Elhuyars’ sun-drenched dining room. “You need to do something.”

“Um.” She stared with bleary eyes at the large cup of coffee and milk that Raízians favored with their breakfast. She wondered if her stomach would even accept such a thing. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Go into town and do some shopping or something.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Shopping? Me?”

“Leave her alone, Jorge,” said his sister. Maria was always cheerful, but there was a careful watchfulness in her eyes, like a cat, that suggested she was not as easygoing as she presented herself. Unlike Raízian men, young women seemed to wear their long dark hair loose and full. “Sonya’s been through so much, the poor dear. She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

“I know far better than you what she’s been through, Maria,” Jorge replied testily. Sonya had noticed that his habitual patience with other people did not extend to his own siblings. “Just as I know far better what she needs.”

Maria rolled her eyes, then gave Sonya a warm smile. “Men, right? They think they know so much, but what do they really know? Nothing!”

“Uh-huh,” Sonya said, wishing they would all stop talking so loudly.

“See, this is exactly what I’m saying,” declared Jorge with a broad sweep of his hand. Sonya had also noticed that Jorge acted far less meek now that he was home among his own family. “Sonya, you’re in a rut. You need to get out there and do something!”

“I agree with that,” said Hugo, Jorge’s older brother, as he strode into the room carefully fixing the silk cravat around his neck. “A person without work is not a person.”

Hugo looked a lot like an older version of Jorge, but was nearly the opposite in temperament. His face always had a fastidious, almost fussy set to it, as if he vaguely disapproved of most of what he saw but was too polite to bring it up. He was rarely still, and the only family member who did not enjoy either the long breakfasts or the evening concerts. Instead, he seemed utterly dedicated to the various interests of the Elhuyar family, whatever they were.

“Life isn’t just about work, Hugo,” Maria told him. “Isn’t that right, Papa?”

“Hmm,” said Señor Arturo Elhuyar, who sat at the head of the table. The patriarch of the family remained something of a mystery to Sonya. He was often present, at breakfast, in the courtyard, at the concerts, but rarely contributed anything. He seemed mostly content to sort through ever-present stacks of parchment, occasionally marking things with a quill or making notes in a small, leather-bound ledger. Beyond an initial “You are welcome here, Sonya,” he had not spoken to her once, or even seemed to notice that she was in the room.

“You see?” Maria smiled triumphantly at Hugo. “Papa agrees.”

Sonya wasn’t sure how Maria had interpreted her father’s grunt as agreement, but Hugo didn’t contest it.

“Yes, I know life isn’t only about work.” Hugo took a small pastry from the plate without sitting down. “I’m merely saying that it is a necessary component of life, like food, water, and air. It is quite simple. If you don’t have work, you don’t have meaning. If you don’t have meaning, you will despair.”

“Oh, listen to the family philosopher here.” Maria seemed to be addressing the entire table now, her arms outstretched. “What other deep wisdom do you have to impart, Señor Fyilósso?”

He glared at her while he slowly chewed. “What kind of word is fyilósso?”

“It’s a Raízian word, which you would know if you truly cared about your people.”

“Sorry if I’m not as political as some people.” Still standing, Hugo poured coffee from a carafe into a ceramic mug, then mixed in milk from a small pitcher. “But I don’t have time to waste on such frivolity. I have our family to think about. Isn’t that right, Papa?”

“Hmm,” said Arturo, still not looking up from his parchment.

“See?” Hugo gave Maria a smug look, once again somehow able to perceive assent where Sonya saw none.

“Children, children, no arguing at the table.”

Magdalena swept grandly into the room and seated herself at the foot of the table opposite Arturo.

“We are not children, Mama,” Maria said frostily. “Nor are we arguing. We are discussing weighty matters of our time. Your generation may have given up on our people, but ours has not.”

“Ach, it’s too early for such talk.” Magdalena waved her hand dismissively.

“Mama,” said Jorge. “Don’t you think it’s unhealthy for Sonya to be cooped up so long? She should do something. Perhaps go into town.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” said Magdalena. “Maria, after breakfast you will take Sonya shopping. I’m tired of seeing her walk around in those rags.”

“But, Mama!” objected Maria. “I was going to—”

“Earn money for the food and drink you consume in this house?” interrupted Magdalena.

“No, but—”

“Then you were going to help your brother manage our properties?”

“Well, no—”

“Then this is what you will do today to contribute to the family that you love and cherish so much.” Magdalena smiled beatifically, as if she had just given her daughter a generous gift.

Maria looked like she was about to retort, but then sighed and bowed her head. “Yes, Mama.”