The exchange hadn't been mutual. Madam Yu wanted a larger audience for her explanations, whatever they might be.
Lily brought the cutting board over, piled high with precisely cubed potatoes. Voice low, she said, "Are you sure he ought to do that? He doesn't have super-duper healing yet."
"He'll do fine. The bread knife is serrated, and he'll saw with it, not slice. It takes a remarkable degree of inattention to saw through your own finger."
"If you say so." She tucked her hair behind one ear and gave Toby a quick glance—checking for blood, probably. "What next?"
"You could grate the cheese."
"How much?"
He had no idea. He cooked by guess, based on experience. But she needed to measure everything, or she wouldn't know if she'd done it right, so he gave her a firm number. "Three cups."
"Okay." She went to the refrigerator.
He carried the potatoes to the range, turned the burner on under the skillet, and added a healthy chunk of butter. He looked at her for the sheer pleasure of being able to do so. Yearning twisted through him.
Ah, hell. Damned, spoilsport wolf.
He'd begun his penance that morning at six a.m. He'd expected Changing back after only ten minutes to be difficult, and not only because of the magical strain. Wolves had little use for clocks. For them, the time was always now. So he'd fixed in his mind an image of the clock reading six ten, and reminded himself of the Lady's wishes.
The Change hurt. It always did, but it hurt more when he wasn't grounded, and he'd chosen to Change in their bedroom on the second floor, where he could see the clock. And Lily. As wolf he'd lain on the wooden floor and watched her sleep. And even as he'd looked at her, breathing in their mingled scents, he'd grieved.
Foolish wolf. He scraped potatoes into the hot skillet. The Lily who had been with him in Dis wasn't gone. She lived on in this Lily… though this Lily didn't remember. She didn't know what the sky looked like in Dis, or the beauty of dragonsong, or what she'd done when she first woke, naked and frightened, sundered from memory and alone in a terrible place… alone but for a demon and a wolf.
She'd reached for him, burying her fingers in his fur. She'd known him. When she hadn't known herself, she'd known him.
Rule shook his head and grabbed the onion he'd gotten out earlier, and a knife. The wolf didn't understand, but he wasn't only wolf. He could remember for both of them, and Lily was here, right here with him. He hadn't lost her.
He began slicing the onion, his knife working a great deal faster than hers had.
He opened the oven and heat rolled out, parching his face.
Rule froze. Then, carefully, he slid the pan onto the rack inside the oven. He straightened, closed the oven door, and set the timer.
It had happened again.
"The bread's all sliced," Toby announced.
He found a smile and turned. "Very good." Had Lily helped the boy? She was getting plates down now, but she might have assisted him earlier. The slices were unnaturally even.
He didn't know. Apparently he'd finished assembling the frit-tata, but he had no memory of it. Better not comment on the bread, or… or she'd know what had happened.
That was when he realized he wasn't going to tell her. Not this time.
The doorbell rang. "I'll get it."
Benedict straightened away from the wall. Rule shot him an annoyed glance and received a bland one in return. He wouldn't be answering the door on his own—or eating, sleeping, or pissing, he thought.
A large, silent, older-brother shadow trailed him through :he dining room. He did his best to ignore that.
He couldn't have lost much time. He'd been slicing the onions; the green peppers would have been next. Five minutes. When the potatoes finished browning he would have…
"Your food arrives slowly," Li Lei Yu announced from her temporary throne in the front room, an armchair that could have held two of her. She wore western clothes today, black slacks with a severe gold shirt buttoned firmly at the throat. Both were silk.
"I've had help."
Li Qin looked up from the magazine she was reading and smiled. Harry was sprawled across her lap, purring. "Good morning again."
Benedict gave her a nod and a smile. Rule smiled, too. One couldn't help smiling at Li Qin. Even the bloody cat liked her. "Excuse me a moment, ladies. I need to get the door."
"Your well-armed brother will answer the door," Madam Yu told him, and, to his surprise, slid off the chair and stood. "You will come here."
Rule kept his voice polite. "Madam, I adore you, but sometimes I'm at a loss to know why."
"You do not like being—what is it? Ah—bossed around." Her rare smile flashed, and for a moment a much younger woman peeped out. "I do not like it, either. But I am much older, so you will indulge me."
"I think a great many people have indulged you over the years." But he gave Benedict a nod, and while his brother went to the door, he crossed to the old woman. He lifted his eyebrows: Here I am. Now what?
She wasn't smiling anymore, but neither did she wear the imperious mask she so enjoyed. Solemn and assured, she stretched up both hands and placed them on his cheeks.
"Li Lei!"
Li Qin's startled exclamation had Rule turning his head. The other woman had dropped her magazine and looked distressed.
"Hush," Madam said, but her voice was gentle. Firmly she turned Rule's face back toward her.
He frowned. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing that can hurt you." Her eyes were that extraordinary dark brown that looks black, the whites almost invisible. He found himself staring at that darkness, fascinated.
Her palms grew warm. Very warm. He heard Cullen's voice, and Cynna's, and the timer going off. None of it seemed to matter. He floated…
Her hands fell away. He blinked.
"Madam." Li Qin's voice reproached her.
"What did you do?" Cullen demanded. He stood a few feet away, glaring at the old woman. Cynna was beside him, a frown tucked between her eyebrows.
"I cannot fix it." Her voice was crisp on top, but underneath he heard sadness.
Rule shook his head, dispelling the traces of whatever she'd done to him—but not the anger. He'd been taken over in some fashion, and he didn't like it. "If you're talking about the demon poison, neither can a Wiccan high priestess nor a Catholic archbishop, among others."
"Bishops, monks, priestesses—bah. They are good with questions, not so good with doing." With that opaque comment, she reseated herself. "You may introduce me. Cullen, I know. This other—"
Li Qin, amazingly, interrupted her. "You risked much."
The old woman gave a small shrug. "Some secrets will not remain secret so much longer, I think."
"That is not what I meant."
"I want to know what you did," Cullen said. "And what you tried to do."
"So do I," Lily said from the arched entry to the dining room, her face pale. Rule couldn't tell what had drained her color— anger or fear.
Madam Yu's eyebrows rose imperiously. "We do not always get what we want."
Li Qin folded her hands in her lap, placid once more. "I am sorry. In my distress, I brought confusion. The risk was not to Rule, but to Madam. She attempted—"
"Li Qin," Grandmother snapped.
"—to absorb the poison into herself," Li Qin finished, untroubled by the scowl directed at her. "At times, she mistakes herself for indestructible."
"Bah." Madam Yu rose. "I am hungry. We will eat now."
LI LEI YU didn't often indulge in sentimentality, but as she looked around the dining table she felt quite tender. Her granddaughter and namesake had assembled an interesting family for herself. Rule Turner sat at the head of the table, as was proper. Me wasn't entirely over his anger, of course. Cage a wolf—or a strong man—and you could expect snapping teeth. He owed none of his current cage to her, but she had suppressed his will, however briefly and benevolently. He was wary of her.