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With the gift of privilege came the burden of expectation.
Theirs was an agreement based on the beginnings of friendship, respect and an intuitive understanding of each other that still left him slack-jawed with amazement.
The spirits of our dead leave this world but gift the living with their memories—what we call mortem lights.
“A dead Kai’s mortem light is a last gift to their loved ones.”
sorrow was sorrow.
candles lit inside living lanterns.
He refused to think of potatoes.
An ancient, insular people who shunned the sun and swallowed the spirits of their dead,
“It’s not a secret; it’s just a fact that offers no benefit in being retold.”
“Loneliness is an empty void. We look for that friend in the light.”
“I’m sorry about the potato, Brishen,”
“I will conquer kingdoms for you if you but ask it of me, Ildiko.”
“Have you eaten?” This time he caught the slyness in her smile. “I did. A potato. It was delicious. We didn’t save you one.”
“And your luck held. No potatoes at dinner.”
He only prayed she didn’t order potatoes.
She ordered roasted potatoes as well, much to the head cook’s disgust.
What a waste of a nice potato,
She hadn’t chosen this husband of hers, nor had he chosen her, but fate or kind gods had brought them together, made them friends and then lovers.
The blackness inside hung thick enough to pour from a bottle,
So much killing and over two people who were never supposed to matter.
I thought your mother would be here another night, so I ordered potatoes to be served.”
