“We are not done,” she replies, pink flooding her cheeks. “We need to search harder for the tale of Inanna’s Descent, tell more people, bring on more readers.”
Her panic overshadows my concern for Deven. “This is consuming you.”
“Agh!” she cries. My sister’s eyes broaden at Kalinda. “Did you really forget the tale? Did you even try to save him?”
“You know I did.” I do not remind her of the long nights I spent researching in my library. Deven’s predicament goes beyond proving my diligence. I have not wanted to risk upsetting Kalinda more, but I finished searching the texts in my library the night after last. We are out of resources. “The gods may have a plan we cannot yet see.”
Kalinda recoils, her expression wounded. “You told me we’d search until we found him.”
“We have searched, but if the origins of the tale are oral, tracking it down may be impossible.” I run my hands through my hair to ease my fidgeting. “How you’re living, straddling our world and the evernight . . . No mortal should sustain that. Maybe Deven didn’t come so you’ll let him go.”
“I’m his only way home!” Kalinda says, jumping to her feet. Her sudden movement knocks over the chair, which hits the mound of children’s books. They tumble to the floor in a landslide.
Rehan startles and sucks in a lungful of air. As she howls, Kalinda’s chin trembles. I lift the baby to calm her. Her weeping rises to high-pitched wails.
“Please don’t cry,” I say, an appeal for them both.
“I’m sorry I upset her.” Kalinda bites her inner cheek and kneels to restack the books. “I’ll fix it.”
“It’s all right,” I say. “Just leave them.”
She organizes the mess while Rehan wails. I bounce the baby, at a loss for how to console either one.
The old nursemaid crosses to us. Sunsee, the nursery leader, takes Rehan and pats her back. Kalinda rights the tipped chair and drops into it, resting her face in her hands. Her nose hits her wooden prosthesis. She groans and buries her watery eyes in the crook of her elbow.
My suggestion that we may not free Deven was not meant to be callous. The longer this goes on, the more I worry I could lose Deven and Kalinda. She is thinking only of his well-being. Someone must think of hers.
Nursemaid Sunsee quiets my sister. “Might I suggest you read to her, Your Majesty?” she says, passing the baby back. “You could tell her your favorite story when you were little.”
“My favorite story?” I ask.
“Kindred Lakia recited it at bedtime.”
I comb my recollections, coming across nothing of the sort.
Kalinda shoves at her wet nose, damp from repressing tears. “I’d like to hear this story.”