As soon as Tay realized he was being stroked, he immediately let go of Mishi and, irritated by her request, sighed. Still, Mishi was certain he would do it, and without another word she went to the bedroom.
…
And that brief pause, during which Tay was left alone, paid off. When Mishi returned, the living room was already lit by the fireplace, and Tay was even leafing through their agreement. He sat on the couch, deeply lost in thought, and didn’t notice her presence at all. Only when she turned off the lights did he tear himself away from the text he could no longer see.
Instead, he had Mishi before him, smiling mischievously from the doorway and teasing him:
“You know that on page fifty-seven there’s a clause about us going on one vacation lasting five to ten days?”
Tay set the agreement back down on the coffee table. “I’ll arrange a very long vacation for you. You can go wherever you want.”
“No!” Mishi emphasized her disagreement in a high, teacherly tone. “It says there…,” she sat down beside him, “that WE will go on vacation.” She placed the glasses on the table and drew them toward herself until they clinked. Together with her smile, it looked very symbolic.
“So you still owe me that,” she added.
“It also says there that I can cancel or reschedule anything like that for work reasons. And I really am very busy,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. He no longer looked so angry—and he hadn’t even had a sip yet.
…
Even so, Mishi poured them each a glass, and in the end they spent quite a long time over it. Naturally, they talked about everything except the agreement, which kept staring at them, waiting its turn.
For now, it didn’t matter. Mishi managed to coax Tay into a second glass as well and enjoyed that it made him smile now and then, even if still in a controlled way. She felt foolish for having to approach him through wine, but she knew he would otherwise flee the topic indefinitely. And she probably would too.
As the night wore on, fatigue didn’t come, and their conversation grew livelier with the wine they drank. When they eventually reached shared experiences from the palace, Mishi dared to speak plainly.
“So… now I’m getting the promised promotion. I’ll be the assistant to the deputy ruler. A kind of deputy to the deputy. That sounds interesting,” she said, giggling cheerfully—not only because of the wine, of which she had slightly more in her than Tay. “I’m looking forward to helping you again. I really miss that work, you know.”
She expected another of his gentle smiles she had been savoring, but instead Tay suddenly fell silent. He leaned back slightly and grew serious. Behind the veil in his eyes there was something like guilt.
“Well…” he began slowly, “I was actually hoping you wouldn’t want to come back.”
“No?” Mishi played surprised, feeling a pleasant shiver of excitement.
“No. I think you should just rest now and not burden yourself with work. You know—go on that vacation, or even move somewhere where they’ll take care of you. Where journalists won’t bother you anymore. Besides, you don’t like the suburbs anyway; you wanted somewhere closer to Jordin.”
“Oh…” Mishi breathed in surprise, sensing from his tone how he would most like to pack her up and send her to the other end of the world.
“But I don’t want to go away,” she said. “I want to come back to you at the palace. I’m not going to lie around on some couch waiting to die.”
“That’s not what I meant. It just makes no sense for you, in your condition, to be back in that madhouse. You’ve been given a chance to live a bit longer—so enjoy it. You didn’t spend that year sitting here just to return. You heard those business speeches at the ball today. You want to go back into that hell?!”