A pleasant smell wafts from the decorative plants mounted on the walls, lending a little outdoor charm to the indoor setting. The four-person table where we’ve encamped is just right for our group of three plus all the accoutrements we girls are obliged to haul around. Especially because we’re about to order an ungodly amount of sweets. Having all taken the day off to spend it unwinding together, the three of us sip oolong tea from small cups here at the White Nettle, a café I’ve been frequenting with friends for ages now.
One of the waitresses I’ve come to know well got pregnant last year, and she’s still waiting tables even though she looks like she’s about to pop. Apparently it’ll be one more week before she takes her maternity leave.
“Would you like to touch it?” she asks, patting her belly.
I take her up on her generous offer and feel a kick against my hand coming from inside. The mystery of life makes me tear up. Make sure you come into this world healthy and sound, little one.
“Are you sure you don’t want to rest today, Nikeh?” I ask, turning to my friend across the table. “You look so busy every day. Don’t overwork yourself.”
“Listen to the girl. Are you staying healthy?” adds Benjamine.
Nodding to each other, the two of us try to discern the state of our friend Nikeh Brunel, who sips her tea in a most elegant way. It’s probably thanks to Maris that this once cute and pretty girl became such a refined and beautiful lady. From the way she carries herself, you would never think she was once a commoner.
“Wow...” whispers Benjamine into my ear, evidently thinking the same thing.
Wow indeed.
“I’m a little tired,” finally utters Nikeh.
“Hey, you’re back!”
“You were so close! Thirty seconds away from setting a new record,” says Benjamine.
Smiling and blinking her charming, catlike eyes as her wavy red hair rocks to the side, she shows Nikeh her watch.
I should mention this isn’t our first time checking Nikeh’s progress over tea. She even asked for it herself. It’s not like we’re poking fun at her here.
“You should let Prince Zenon see how far you’ve come!” suggests Benjamine.
“That would just be rude,” replies Nikeh in a firm tone. “His Highness is a busy man,” she adds to drive the point home. “For nobles in name only like myself, everything is stiff and uptight. The least a parvenu like me can do is have some pride.”
“I think being a baroness is prestigious enough...” says Benjamine, pouting.
“It doesn’t matter whether I’m a baroness or a countess if my family has no real history to speak of. We used to be merchants, after all.”
“You still are, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Her parents must have a lot on their plate, and it’s precisely for them that Nikeh asked the king to elevate her family’s class as her reward. Apparently they used to have to deal with suffocating competition from their noble peers, and they’re happy to finally be able to fight back now that they’re nobles themselves.
Nikeh says she wishes she could keep living the life of a commoner, but at least this way she might not be forced into an arranged marriage—a fate she’d much rather avoid. It’s the only reason she became a baroness herself. That kind of bold decision is just like her—exactly the sort of thing that endeared her to me in the first place.
Nikeh sips her tea, breathes a sigh of relaxation, and reaches out for the sweets. She always ties her blonde hair back when working, but today she’s letting it loose.
✦ ✦ ✦
“How’s work been treating you, Nanalie? Anything going on?” she asks.
“Same as always. You’ve got a lot more on your plate, I’m sure.”
“Hmm, do I...? Maybe I do... Those strange orders caused some chaos at headquarters...”
“What kind of strange orders?” ask Benjamine and I in unison.
“There’s this wax doll they call the Time Keeper...” begins Nikeh, lowering her voice and leaning closer to us.
Nikeh’s story matches up with Cheena’s—talking doll, total freedom across all time and space, mortal peril for all creation, black-market deals and noble skulduggery, and now nobody can find the damn thing, but at least the royal psychometrists are on the case.
“This is hardly the first time I’ve heard about knight business likely well above my clearance or my pay grade, but are you sure you should be telling us?”
“Oh, but this is very much part of my work. Benjamine here is a sorcerer, and you’re a receptionist at Harré. You both hear things, don’t you? Let us know if someone out there finds the doll. This is what it looks like,” says Nikeh, producing a drawing for our reference.
It resembles a gnomish, large-nosed old man in a pointy hat. It’s hardly an uncommon design, which is probably why they’re having trouble finding it.
“When did you start using your friends for your work?” remarks Benjamine with a smile, having failed to resist the temptation to poke fun at Nikeh.
Still, judging by the extreme means they’ve already employed to find that doll, it must be a huge problem for the knights.
I hold my hand over the steaming teapot, finding myself earnestly wishing that nothing disturbs these hard-won days of calm again, same as Zozo and the director.
“Such a nice breeze,” I say as a refreshing gust of wind coming from an open window toys with my hair.
Just a moment ago Nikeh was talking about something serious and Benjamine was listening to her with a smile, but they both assume relaxed expressions in an instant and enjoy the breeze.
“Nice breeze, right?”
“Sure is.”
“Things are so peaceful...”
“Yeah...”
“I might jinx it if I say things like that.”
“Yeah...”
“Guess I’d better stop.”
“Yeah, guess so.”
“Pfft.” I laugh; I can’t help but be tickled by the two’s natural rhythm.