Half of Ruby

Chapter 20

"Master Ronan." 

For a moment, Ember thought the walls had spoken—so small the voice had been. Nobody was in sight. 

And then she turned her gaze downwards. 

A little, brown-skinned slave stood in the doorway, large dark eyes and small red lips quivering. A white lace cap concealed her frizzy hair as she strained to hold the door open. 

"Greetings, Kaya," said Ronan. "Thank you." 

He stepped over the doorway.

"Ember?"  

Ember's eyes flickered over the slave. Kaya's bovine eyes ogled up at her with a shameless mixture of disgust, fascination, and fear.

"Coming," she said, then stepped gingerly inside.

The sight of the house took her breath away. Despite the simplicity of the entrance hall, the dining room boasted a large mahogany table, complete with half a dozen tall-backed chairs. A chandelier threw crystalline light over the polished oak floors.

The entire dining room was bigger than the first floor of her house. 

"Kaya," said Ronan sharply, "why don't you take Ember's cloak?" 

The slave blinked up at him. "Yes, yes, yes, of course—"

Ronan sighed. "She's a shy," he whispered, leaning towards Ember. "Especially around—"

"—witches like me," snapped Ember. "Yes, I get it." 

Ronan shot her an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry." 

"Why?" demanded Ember. She shrugged off her cloak and Kaya took it, holding it three feet before her as though it held a curse. "It's not like you did anything." 

A moment of silence. She refused to meet his eyes. 

Ronan gestured to the dining hall. "Why don't you head inside and have breakfast? The rest of my family is out doing errands; it's a Sunday." 

Ember nodded, then padded into the dining room, her eyes flickering from the flawless polished floors to her muddy wrinkled attire. Her fingers touched her breast pocket, where her wallet resided....

A heaping plate of food laid upon the table. Sausages, toast, apples, milk. Ember's eyes widened as she sat down, eyes glued to the perfect silverware, the silky place mat. 

The sausages melted on her tongue, tender and salty. The milk, so whole and fatty, swirled through her mouth like cream. The apples gleamed scarlet and white, bursting with sweetness. The aroma of butter, cinnamon, and brown sugar swirled around the toast, an aura of perfection.

"This is insane."

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "This?" 

Ember shot him a glare, digging into her toast. "Half your population eats rotten meat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and you don't treasure this?" 

She knew he couldn't understand—he'd never known the poverty she'd struggled with her entire life. 

Ronan shrugged. "I've never seen the poor beyond a few glances." 

"Of course you haven't." She speared a sausage with her knife, savoring Ronan's disgusted look at her manners just as much as the meat's tenderness. 

He fell silent.

"So," said Ember, downing the last bits of toast, "when are you going to show me to your family?" 

Ronan bit his lip. "They expected you today, so I'll do so at lunch."