“Milo, what do you think?” Calliope said.

Milo thought it was horrible, that was what Milo thought. And his expression betrayed as much. He hadn’t been happy when he came home yesterday and Seth had one paper flower — with a magic butterfly on it, like he was showing off.

(Also, Seth had been asleep in Calliope’s bed. Ann was extremely sure that Calliope didn’t want Seth to marry her and be Lucy’s dad, but Milo wasn’t. Seth shouldn’t be anyone’s dad, he didn’t even have a house.)

Calliope was still explaining her latest project, oblivious. Milo didn’t smile a whole lot. “Cin got into all my flowers. She noticed them. I guess the wires are easier for stitches. They were starting to get faded, anyway. Yours looked pretty ragged too.”

Milo’s eyes widened. He looked like a cartoon character. One about to turn bright green and vomit in a comical manner. Cin took my paper flower…? Ann’s paper flower?

He wasn’t ever going to get another one of those. Calliope didn’t like him the same anymore.

“I did these with string.” She lifted the small construction, which rustled. “I didn’t have time to go get a real tree. Too many concussions. And anyway, that’s no fun.”

It was a couple dozen tissue paper flowers, with their edges bedecked in glitter, that had either been glued together or affixed in some other manner in a conical shape. Beneath them, for structural integrity, was a flat piece of cardboard with further glitter. If not for that, you could’ve put the whole thing on your head like a party hat, though it was big enough to slip down to your chin.

“I made it blue so it matches,” Calliope said. She frowned. “You think that’s racist of me?”

Milo had an inkling some kind of response was required now. He nodded.

Calliope’s frown deepened. “I didn’t have any green. Green isn’t flowers… unless you’re doing a palette swap… or with dye. And Cin said don’t show anybody the other one because it’s a cursed object… You got any idea what I can do with a bunch of little glass eyes, Milo? They’re not round enough for marbles. Think they’d make okay ornaments? I mean, it’s a whole different context. No heads…”

Milo nodded.

“You think you can get it to light up? Maybe different colours and not blue? Can you do that twinkle thing like the glass bottles?”

Milo nodded.

“Cool. I’ll put some glitter on those eyes so they won’t look at you.” She brushed at the front of her shirt, which was also liberally glittered, and grinned. “He asked me if I was a fairy, but that was before I was all sparkly. He was super high, though, so I guess it didn’t matter.” She frowned again. “I think he’s really unhappy down there, but he’s too nice to say. This doesn’t really fix it, but I want to do something. It’s Yule, anyways.” She wandered back into her room to get art supplies.

Milo looked pained. She does like him, Ann.

Calliope is allowed to like people, Milo. She wouldn’t like us to tell her who she’s allowed to like.

I know, but I don’t want her to like someone who doesn’t have a house and can’t take care of her… And the needles, even if it’s not on purpose.

Ann wasn’t sure where to begin. On the one hand, going back over Calliope needing a house and someone to take care of her felt like regression, but the possibility of Seth not being irredeemably evil because of the needles was a huge step forward. But, maybe now wasn’t the time to talk about that.

Milo… there are different kinds of liking people. Calliope can like Seth and not want to be married to him — and I’m pretty sure that’s how she feels. But even if she did want to be married to him, or someone else, the part about a house and money isn’t important to her. Calliope decides to love someone based on who they are, and you mustn’t treat her as if it’s any other way.

Milo turned the paper tree-approximation in his hands. That’s why I’m worried, Ann. Do you get that’s why I’m worried?

Calliope had liked him a lot, and then it turned out he wasn’t good enough and that hurt her so much. There were so many ways a person could not be good enough, and it was so hard to find out.

And Calliope did need a house. She couldn’t go live under the bridge with Lucy. If Calliope didn’t care about it, somebody had to. He didn’t care what Ann said.

Calliope returned with some jars of glitter glue, two paint brushes, and a paper envelope that was lumpy with doll eyes. “I guess we can sit on the floor,” she said. “You think Cin’ll mind if we get glitter in the carpet?” She nodded to the dining room, which would be more comfortable.

Milo broadly shook his head. They’d had way worse things in the dining room carpet than glitter.

“Cool. I made you another flower.”

Halfway to sitting, Milo froze with one hand on the floor.

“And one for Ann. She won’t steal yours if she has one of her own, right? She needs a bobby pin if she wants to put it in her hair, though.”

Milo didn’t say anything.

“I put glitter on both of ‘em. They’re not dry yet. I think I got carried away.” She regarded him. “Processing again, huh? You seem like you have a real hard time with flowers. They’re not that hard to make, you know. They only look complicated.”

Milo offered no opinion on the relative complexity of paper flowers.

Calliope shrugged. She folded open the envelope and applied some glitter glue to the business end of an almond-shaped doll’s eye. The blank side looked a little ornament-y, like a mini version of those teardrop-looking blown glass things. She affixed it to the paper tree pointed side up. “Okay, Milo. You just get back to me when you’re done over there. I can do this part.”

◈◈◈

In the basement, Seth was sitting up in the cot. He had a folded section of newspaper propped against his knees, and a pencil. The grid of a crossword puzzle was evident.

Milo’s mouth gaped open like he was screaming. He thudded the rest of the way down the stairs and snatched the paper away. The pencil went flying and impacted the opposite wall with a click.

“I… I… I’m sorry,” Seth said.

Milo urgently examined the paper. He was having difficulty locating the crossword puzzle in his panic. All he saw was blurred lines. He turned the folded section upside-down, and then had a look at the back of it. He shook it like he was trying to get it to tell him where the hostages were.

“I think Glorie likes to do the crossword after dinner,” Calliope offered.

“Glory?”

“Maggie’s mom.”

Seth paled. “Maggie… Maggie’s mother?”

Once, only once — and it was years ago — he had sort of very gently mentioned the school, in the same sentence with Maggie, and that woman had given him ten minutes solid of good reasons he was a terrible teacher and all-around worthless human being. Like he’d put a coin in a jukebox and that was the record. Like he was back holding the wall during the siege.

She didn’t even have the decency to shout at him.

“Yeah. Glorie’s just a nickname. I guess most people don’t call her that…”

The schoolteacher tumbled out of bed. He felt desperately around on the floor for the pencil. “I’ll erase it. I’ll erase it…” He looked up at Calliope, wide-eyed. “Does she like the cryptogram? I did the cryptogram. I shouldn’t have done the cryptogram. I don’t even like the crypto…” He sneezed into his cupped hands.

Calliope pulled a tissue out of the box and offered it.

“Oh,” Seth said. “Thank you.” He saw what she was holding.

It was a Yule tree. A little fake one, like you could get made out of tinsel, but too lopsided and imperfect to have come from a store. It was too sweet and pretty to be store-bought too. There were tiny pearl-like ornaments, and something had been done to it to make it glow, each section a different colour. They shifted and changed. On top of it, in place of the solar disc, was a roughly cut tin star. He thought he remembered ornaments like that on the tree upstairs.

“Oh, Calliope, please. No more presents.” It was starting to look like a shrine down here. A weird one.

She’d put tinsel on the banister right away, and ornaments. And she brought him that painting. And when he complimented the painting she brought him more paintings. And a collage. And a coloured pencil sketch of a blue butterfly she must have done just for him. (He was pretty sure he did the butterflies for her. She gave him a flower and he gave her some butterflies… And a trigonometry lesson.)

He liked it. It didn’t look so much like the basement with all these things in it. But he didn’t like her walking up and down stairs all day to do it for him.

Calliope frowned. “It’s not presents. You can’t have Consumerism, I really like that one. Milo let me put cooking oil in his hair.”

She set down the tree on the worktable with the radio. “You can have this if you want it, though. And the butterfly. And that shirt.” She indicated his borrowed, ersatz pyjamas. “I got a couple more of those that don’t fit me anymore since Lucy. I was usin’ ‘em for paint stains, but I can do that with anything. It’s too bad about the pants. I think you can get away with those sleeves, but you’d look like Erik in the pants. We don’t have any short little fat guys living here.”

She considered. “Maybe Glorie, but they don’t have enough buttons. My mom says you shouldn’t trust a skinny chef because they eat their own cooking, but I think Em makes really good dinners. Maybe it’s the thing with his lungs.”

Seth wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the cold medicine. He didn’t have this much trouble following Hyacinth. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean presents, I mean… Please stop coming down here to do things for me. I’ll get you sick.”

In attempting to remove all evidence of graphite from the crossword puzzle with a deconstruction spell, Milo had just set the newspaper on fire. No! Calliope’s nice paintings and tree we just made! He threw the paper to the floor and stamped on it.

Well, that took care of the crossword puzzle, but the paintings and the tree were okay.

I’ll die as I’ve lived, Milo thought. Stupidly and for no good reason. He squared his shoulders and tried to appear dignified.

Seth looked up at him. He was still sitting on the floor under the cot and it was easy for him to assess the status of the crossword from there. “Mr. Rose, I am so incredibly sorry. It’s my fault. Please tell her it’s my fault.”

Calliope wandered over to have a look as well. “How come you had the paper anyway?”

“Hyacinth threw it at me,” Seth said. He winced. “Gently.” She had been standing at the top of the stairs, but it was kind of an underhanded toss. “I think so I’d have something to do while she was busy, but I’m not sure.”

She hadn’t really said very much about it. Here. Read the comics. I’ll check on you in a minute. He didn’t see her again for at least an hour. He knew because it got cold and he had to engage the magic toaster again.

“Then isn’t it her fault?” Calliope asked.

“Maybe she didn’t know I’d find pencils down here,” Seth said.

Milo broadly shook his head. Of course there were pencils down here. How else was he going to draw stuff?

Seth was shaking his head too. “It’s my fault. She said read the comics. It’s my fault…”

“I don’t think it’s anybody’s fault,” Calliope said. “It’s just a crossword, anyway. Glorie won’t be mad.”

Milo and Seth both stared at her.

Calliope, do you, in fact, live here? thought Milo. Then again, with the way she talked about things sometimes… Maybe it was like another dimension. The Marshmallow Zone.

“I-I’m sure you’re right,” Seth managed faintly. “But please tell her it was me. Promise you will.”

He wants her to be safe, Milo thought, blinking. Ann? Is that what he’s doing?

Yes, Milo. He does that rather a lot. Ann recalled multiple instances, usually around the kids, but Milo had been thinking about other things. Like, I hate him, and He’s dirty. Milo had his own “Zone.”

“You sound kinda like you’re proud of it,” Calliope said with a smile. “I think the word search might still be good.” She nudged Milo’s shoe aside and retrieved the paper. “Hey, Milo, babe, do you guys go shoe shopping together? Can I come next time?”

She was quite familiar with Milo’s shoes, which were her go-to resource when foreshortening was required. Ann had a pretty good collection of heels going on up there, but Milo just had the one set and she had to make things up if she wanted boots or loafers. A shoe store would be a good place to get some practice, and they couldn’t kick her out if she was with some other guys who were buying stuff.

Milo shook his head. He did not go shoe shopping with anyone. Anything-shopping was just too stressful to involve more people.

Although, if Calliope really wanted to buy some shoes, he might make an exception. She only had the one pair, and she seemed perfectly okay with that. It was kind of sad, like when he didn’t used to know about dinosaurs. Maybe he could find her a catalogue, then they wouldn’t have to be in a store with salesmen…

“No, I can’t come shoe shopping or no, you guys just accidentally bought twin shoes?” she asked. When Milo blinked at her, she indicated Seth’s shoes, neatly paired under the cot. They were a great deal more worn, but they were exactly the same style.

“I didn’t buy them,” Seth said. He was conveniently on the floor and he also regarded his shoes, and Milo’s. “They were in the alley…” He looked up. “Mr. Rose? Did somebody take those from you and throw them away like that?”

Milo nodded. Yes, well, that would certainly explain it. He had noticed the shoes. Ann thought he was just being paranoid. I didn’t think he broke into the house and stole them, Ann! I knew Barnaby threw them out!

All right, Milo, but it’s not like Seth had any idea he was taking your shoes…

No, but he did!

Seth frowned. The kids were always doing things like that to each other. Sometimes they needed shoes — and sometimes gloves, or a coat, or a toy, but often shoes — and the only way to get a pair that halfway fit was to push over a child of about the same size and take them.

Or sometimes what they needed was to feel bigger or stronger or better than somebody else — because they were small and often hurt, and they needed to be strong and important like they needed a pair of shoes that didn’t pinch or blister — but it seemed so cruel that they only way they could fill that need was by hurting each other.

And sometimes they grew up, still feeling small and hurt inside, and they hurt a lot more people.

He sighed. He felt sick, and not just a sore throat and a runny nose. “Milo… Did they hurt you when they took your shoes?”

Milo wobbled and backed up to the wall. Barnaby’s theft of his shoes had been entirely pain-free. He hadn’t even been in the house when Barnaby got into his things, and all Ann’s dresses. But he wasn’t thinking of that.

“Babe?” Calliope said. It wasn’t as bad as after the brownies, but he looked like he was gonna hide under the worktable again, and she didn’t like that.

She didn’t want him to hit his head.

Milo turned and walked rapidly up the stairs without looking back.

“Oh, gods, now what did I do?” she said. She was mentally going over the last few times she made brownies. Could I have dropped one someplace?

Seth shook his head. He got up off the floor and sat on the edge of the cot, looking down. “It’s me, Calliope. He doesn’t like me very much.”

He looked up at her and shook his head again. “But it isn’t because he’s unkind. When I’m here… I’m usually here when it storms, and I don’t have very good control of myself. He doesn’t like that, and I don’t blame him.” He sighed. “Ann’s able to deal with it, but I don’t think she likes me very much either. I frighten them. Or maybe I just frighten him and she doesn’t like that.”

“You’re not very scary,” Calliope said, frowning.

“You haven’t seen me.” He hid his eyes in his hands. “I suppose you will if you stay here. I’m sorry. I wish… I wish I could just stop bothering everyone!”

Calliope sat down on the cot and put her arms around him. Milo couldn’t stand hugging, anyway; there wasn’t a whole bunch else she could do. “I could go buy another newspaper so Glorie doesn’t notice about the crossword if…”

That didn’t seem to be making any kind of dent in the crying so she quit talking and just kept handing him tissues.

◈◈◈

Milo was hitting his head. But he was upstairs in the closet, so nobody knew about it except Ann. She didn’t like it, but he didn’t want to listen to her and at least he wasn’t biting.

He wasn’t even really trying to hurt, he was… he was trying to do that thing where the tubes in the radio wouldn’t set right — except the radio didn’t actually have tubes anymore so whacking it on the case to clear out the contacts probably wouldn’t do anything. You’d have to get in there with some magic… Or, honestly, if the radio wasn’t working, it was probably one of those damn wooden gears, so some magic and a screwdriver…

He wasn’t hitting his head anymore, and he had to think about those men who took his shoes.

He pressed both hands over his open mouth and thudded the back of his head against the wall. No. That wasn’t the issue. Nobody knew about that. Nobody was trying to talk to him about that. (Except Ann and she really needed to shut up now.) He had dust in his contacts and he was getting the signal scrambled with Seth being worried that some random guys hurt him and took his shoes just now. That was not the issue. That was only tangentially related to the issue.

The issue was, he wanted to physically puke up everything he’d thought about Seth since the first magic storm at the house, like the transmission falling out of a rusted undercarriage, and that was not really an option so he was going to have to come up with something else.

And because his contacts were not setting right he was getting that signal crossed with being a horrible person who hurt Calliope and almost killed Ann.

KILL PROCESS, he thought. END TASK. RESET, damn it. RESET. RESET!

Does Erik hate me now probably too?

…Do I have batteries? Can I yank those out? There was a vague association with blood that Ann would not let him put into words.

Milo, that does NOT work like batteries!

Yes it does, that’s how you make them. There’s one like that in Calliope’s record player.

It doesn’t work that way in people, Milo… You are being wilfully obtuse!

…Okay, but that is how you make batteries. Some of them.

Milo, I want you out of that damn closet and into a dress so we can talk about this with no hitting. …And not about the batteries! You know what!

He sighed. Getting changed wasn’t anything like a reset. He’d still be going in the background, like a flywheel. Ann only cared about the part where he couldn’t hit his head anymore, or bite. But, it was a little easier not having to be in charge of the whole system. It cut down on the processing power.

He considered the shoes on the floor around him. Thor’s Day was the green silk dress. Okay, but I don’t want to talk about those men who took my shoes… Yet.

◈◈◈

Ann paused at the top of the stairs, with her toes at the edge of the dingy tile. The mage lights stuck to the basement ceiling were out, which meant no one was moving around down there. If she breached the doorway, they’d come on for her.

Seth was probably sleeping. He had been. Hyacinth said to wake him up anyway; it was late and he needed to eat something. Ann had a tray, and a white paper carton. Dinner was Xinese delivery. Again. Mordecai was out all day at the school and he came home for dinner and went right past the drugstore with the pay phone, so it was easiest.

(He also went right past Hassan’s Kebabs, but Hyacinth wouldn’t let anybody eat there. There had been an incident with a hair, which Ann suspected had gotten longer with the telling, but she couldn’t be sure.)

Anyway, there were three or four different kinds of Xinese soup, so it wasn’t like Seth was going to get tired of it. H/S the lid said, in black marker. Hot soup? Ann wondered.

She could see the coloured shadows from the fake Yule tree Milo and Calliope had made, fading from red to blue to green in hectic patches. Milo hadn’t done anything to get that to turn off. It must be like trying to sleep in an alley under a blinking sign.

She guessed she and Milo and Seth had all done that a few times.

She spared a hand from the tray and knocked lightly on the door frame. There used to be a door in it. She could see the scars from the missing hinges. “Seth, dear? Are you awake?”

The mage lights popped on. She supposed if he wasn’t, he was now.

He cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, Miss Rose.” Possibly for having made a rude noise. Possibly just for existing.

Ann adjusted the tray and came down, “No, dear, it’s quite all right. We didn’t want to wake you, but it’s getting late and Cin didn’t want you to miss dinner.”

Six steps from the bottom, she could make out the cot against the wall. He was sitting up in it, with the blanket over his legs and his arms folded around his stomach. One hand was clutching a tissue, and there was a neat little cascade of these falling over the cuffed edge of the paper bag they’d left him for a wastebasket. The paper bag also seemed to have had its origin in Xinese delivery — someone had written Thank You! across it. It could have been from last night or weeks ago. They saved things in this house.

Ann paused, looked over the banister and smiled, then she completed her delivery of Seth’s meal. But she didn’t just get him situated and run off, she sat down on the edge of the cot beside him. It creaked, and Ann shifted self-consciously. She knew she was not at all a little girl.

“Thank you, I have it,” Seth said, clinking. There was a mug, a teapot, and some silverware on the tray. It was all a bit difficult to balance, he had to turn and put his feet on the floor.

“I know, dear,” Ann said. “I just… I would like to talk to you. If you don’t mind it too much?”

Seth shook his head. “I’m sorry, this afternoon, I…”

“No, dear,” Ann said. “It wasn’t your fault at all. Milo is sorry for running off like that. It was nothing to do with those shoes,” She indicated them with a pointed toe. “Barnaby threw them away like that. We weren’t even home when he did it. He didn’t hurt Milo. But… When you asked him about it…”

She put a hand over her mouth. Milo had given her permission to talk about it, just the part with the shoes, but she was afraid he might back out at the last instant and leave her with no words at all. “It reminded him of something that happened a long time ago. Some men did take his shoes once, but it happened during the siege. They hurt him,” she allowed.

Milo had been going through some trash cans. Some people still threw newspapers in trash cans, even though they were good for a lot. Stuffing under clothes to make it warmer at night, or lighting fires. Or reading, even.

Old habits died hard — including the printing of newspapers in the first place. There was quite a longstanding tradition in Marsellia of keeping the newspaper going, Emile Cloquette had a national holiday. The local papers, even the pennysaver with all the coupons, had consolidated during the siege to pool their limited resources. Starcatchers had been getting in and out with supplies and information — at least until the Grey Wall came down and everything went to hell — and magic had provided an assist.

But Milo hadn’t known much of that at the time. Just that newspapers were good and they ended up in trash cans. He also hadn’t known enough to be suspicious when he heard a man shout, “Hey, there’s some food over here!”

He was forever kicking himself about that. Sometimes late at night when he was trying to get to sleep. Sometimes in the closet when he thought he’d been stupid for some other reason. People don’t say that. I didn’t feel like I had to tell the world when I found food. Okay, I couldn’t talk, but why would anybody say that if they found food? They would eat it. Or be quiet about it and save it. I never should’ve gone to look…

He had gone, and there had been three men there. And no food.

“They tricked him and got him alone,” Ann said. “I think they must have made a habit of it. Taking things from people that way, but Milo didn’t have anything to take… except the shoes.” She sighed. “They left him his clothes, but I don’t know if that was to be kind or if it was just too hard to take them.” It couldn’t have been easy to get clothes off a boy who was clawing and biting and had very little idea of civilized human behaviour.

Seth had put the tray aside and he was holding the shoes. “Miss Rose, I’m sorry I took these from him.” He considered them. He had almost worn through the soles. “I-I suppose he doesn’t want them back now, but I…”

Ann collected the shoes and set them neatly in her lap. She smiled at him. “Milo will trade with you if you like, what about that?”

Seth glanced down at Ann’s shoes. He was not subtle about it, his whole head moved, but in his defence it was very difficult to be subtle at this distance. “Um…”

Ann laughed. She crossed one leg over the other and playfully kicked her shoe, which had satin bows on it. “Oh, no, dear, not these. Milo’s shoes. The sensible ones. He can buy new ones when he gets paid tomorrow.” She put her foot back on the floor and spoke more seriously, “Do they fit you well? We know how it is to have shoes that don’t fit… or none at all.”

Milo had to take shoes off a dead man, and stuff newspapers in them. He bought Ann her first shoes in a starcatchers’ market, but they hadn’t known much about sizes back then.

“Very well, Miss Rose,” Seth said. It had been like a miracle. People never pitched shoes in pairs, and in such good shape. It was almost too much to ask that they fit.

It was definitely too much to ask for another pair.

“But I can’t accept…”

“Milo’s old shoes? Darling, you’ve already had them for seven months. This is just another iteration. Version Two.” She examined the ragged pair in her lap. “I should expect April would be a good time to pick up Version Three, if you haven’t found anything better by then. No, let’s call it March.”

Milo was mentally rearranging his shoe budget. Ann was priority number one, of course. Ann must always have lots of pretty shoes, but she already had lots of pretty shoes and if one pair fell apart she didn’t need a new pair right away and he could save up for it.

He might go through two or three pairs of non-pretty men’s shoes a year, he bought cheap ones and walked around a lot. Either the soles peeled off or the fake leather started to shed and they weren’t worth mending. He could up that to three or four. Ann might have to go without a couple of impulse buys…

Probably Ann didn’t really want as many shoes as he wanted to buy her, anyway.

Maybe I should buy slightly nicer shoes for me? They’d go longer…

I wonder if I could just buy two pairs next time and trick him?

“Miss Rose, I… I…” There was really no way out of this, like there was no way out of the damn basement. He’d already given her the shoes. And obviously they weren’t going to let him walk off with no shoes at all. “Thank you,” he said weakly. He drew out a tissue and wiped his nose.

“It’s quite all right, dear,” Ann said. She set the shoes aside and picked up the tray. “Now do let’s have some dinner. I wouldn’t like to ask the General to warm it up again. Calliope got away with the crossword puzzle all right, but she’s rather a special person. The rest of us go in terror, as I’m sure you know.” She took the lid off the soup for him.

Seth nodded gravely, though it was hard to picture Ann going in terror of anything. She and Milo went through the siege… They must have been children… A child? They must have been a child? Sometimes Ann and Milo were a bit difficult to parse. “How old was he when it happened? When they stole his shoes?”

“Fifteen,” Ann said.

Ann…

It’s still about the shoes, Milo. It’s context.

“I could have taught him trigonometry,” Seth said with a laugh. He was smiling, but it was pained. Gods, they grow up so fast. Calliope already had a baby somehow. He had to assume she had won it playing arcade games.

“Milo didn’t go to school, exactly,” Ann said.

Ann…

All right. That’s all I’m going to say about it.

“No, I think I would have remembered you,” Seth said. He picked up his soup and sipped it directly from the carton. Children kept a lot of secrets, sometimes very big and painful secrets, but he thought he would have noticed if one of his kids was two kids.

He hoped he would have, anyway.

“It must have been hard for him,” Seth said.

“We have managed quite well, really!” Ann said, smiling. She stood and collected the shoes. “I’ll send Cin down after the dishes, and she can see about medicating you then.”

“Thank you. Please try to keep Calliope upstairs. I don’t want to get her sick… I don’t want to get you sick either. I hope I haven’t…”

“Oh, Milo and I never get sick!” Ann said brightly.

Seth nodded.

I suppose adults have a lot of secrets, too, he thought, gazing after her. We’re just more used to them…

◈◈◈

Calliope was standing near the top of the basement stairs and absently playing with the balusters in the sweeping staircase. You could pluck them like violin strings if you wanted, but they all sounded very much the same. Except for that one, right there. She tapped it and the sound was flat, not resonant like the others. She wondered if that one had magic on it. She’d have to ask Milo sometime. “How’s he doing down there?” she asked Ann without turning.

“Better, I think,” Ann said. “He’s eating. Not crying,” she added. She laughed softly and touched a hand to her mouth. “It sounds almost as if we have a puppy for Yule.”

“Puppies are forever, Ann,” Calliope said gravely. “Not just Yule.”

“I don’t think he’d like it very much if we kept him,” Ann said. She touched Calliope’s shoulder and made her turn. “He doesn’t want you to come down anymore, at least not tonight. He’s worried about getting you sick.”

Calliope shrugged. “I dunno why he’s worried about it, I guess I probably will.”

Milo felt a brief, reflexive hatred of Seth that turned inward and became shame. …it’s not on purpose.

No, Milo.

“It’s the season for it, anyway. Maybe I’m a little worried about Lucy, but Cin can take care of her.” She stroked the baluster. She could feel brush-marks in the white paint, and the whorled grain of the wood. It was slightly sticky. Probably the humidity. The ocean got everything damp. Her paintings took way longer to dry since she moved from Ansalem. “He thinks Milo doesn’t like him.”

Ann nodded. “It’s not true,” she said slowly. She did not say anymore. “But I understand why he might think that. Milo has a hard time — with Seth in particular.”

“Is he really scary when it storms? Does he blow stuff up?”

“No, Calliope,” Ann said. “He’s just in a lot of pain. I don’t think he’d like me to talk about it. Do you want to get ready for bed?”

“I guess, but I was gonna have some tea first and warm up.”

“That sounds delightful, dear. Do you mind it awfully much if I join you?”

“Uh-uh,” Calliope said. She reluctantly abandoned the banister and turned towards the kitchen, which meant going past the basement. The mage lights were still on but she did not go down. She only paused a moment. “Ann…? I like him.”

“Milo and I do too,” Ann said. There was no protest from Milo, not even as they entered the kitchen and began to make tea. The box with the herbal blend was dark blue, with a pale crescent moon on it. There was a dusting of brown powder under the bags.

I guess if Calliope wanted to marry Seth they could live here, Milo mused privately, over Ann’s tea. That would be okay. But I think I’d be too sad and I’d have to go live somewhere else. Sean said I could go live with him, but I think he was just teasing…

Ann felt a pang of remorse that she could not entirely explain, but it did not seem unreasonable. She continued to make light conversation over the tea, and smiled.

Milo was thinking, I’d really, really miss my nice wall with the flowers.

Not the closet with all the dresses and shoes and security; the nice wall with the flowers. He put a sheet over them because they still hurt him sometimes and he didn’t like them to surprise him, but… He liked having them there. There were lots of closets, and dresses. He couldn’t do the flowers again, they… Calliope didn’t…

Ann… Calliope said she made me another paper flower, didn’t she?

Yes, Milo. One for each of us.

Yeah… He did his best to conceal the next bit, because Ann would get into an argument about him being wrong, and he was so tired of being wrong today, I think Calliope can make lots of flowers, for lots of people, but I can’t. I don’t think I’ll ever be that happy ever again.

But I’d like it if she was, even if it made me sad.

Yeah.