More from Onyx Sun as Taliya gets reacquainted with her father.
Her father’s house was a complete contrast to the sterility of her mother’s. Far more modest, it was obvious that he had no staff of servants: in addition to the unkempt lawn and gardens outside, inside a pile of clean laundry waited to be taken upstairs, a well-used coat was hung haphazardly on the newel post, and a pair of muddy boots posed a tripping hazard.
But none of that mattered; there was a sense of warmth and life here, and the scent of food cooking made her mouth water as she followed him into the kitchen.
“Have a seat,” he said, nodding toward the kitchen table.
The table held two place settings, salt, pepper, and a butter dish, along with odds and ends of life that had been pushed haphazardly and unapologetically out of the way to make room: books, a half-dead plant, a deck of cards, and a small yellow bowl made of awkwardly wound coils of clay. She smiled as she recognized it.
“I can’t believe you still have that,” she said as he brought over two bowls of stew.
He followed her gaze and smiled. “A very special person gave that to me,” he said softly as he sat down. “Of course I still have it.”
She shook her head, remembering the day she had brought it home from kindergarten. She had been so proud of it but Maureena had been utterly disdainful. She had taken it from Taulyn and dropped it into her waste basket, but not before pointing out its flaws.
“Mother threw it away. She said…”
“I know,” he replied, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze as her voice choked off. “I rescued it.”
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