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The return trip to Madhyam somehow felt a great deal faster than the initial voyage to Rājadhānī. Tristan chalked it up to a combination of things—Encroachers seemed to stay out of their way, the winds and sands moving in their favor, and everyone received at least one full night’s rest. With so many bodies, it was easier to split the night watch between all of them.
Tristan shared his gigashank with Zahra, and they filled the time with idle chatter. His thoughts were consumed by the immense amount of work that lay before him, not allowing for anything deeper than brief observations and inquiries.
Cailu had asked him to essentially resolve the same issues on San Island that plagued San Francisco; homelessness and orphaned kittens. Battling Encroachers and Defiled were one thing, but resurrecting a broken economy? That was a task that could take years of designing and implementing. Just how long did Cailu want him to stay on San?
When they did reach Madhyam, the group made a point to visit Ishani at Tristan’s suggestion. It was the least he could do for Zahra after all of her help. They were welcomed just as warmly as their first visit with Zahra’s mother.
“Three men in my house! What an honor!” Ishani fussed between them, her eyes glittering with wonder. “Please, allow me to serve you a small meal before you continue on.” She rested her hands over her stomach and performed the traditional bow.
Tristan returned it, and Cailu was nearly in sync with his movements. Tristan cleared his throat to catch Matt’s attention and was glad when he followed suit.
“It would be our pleasure,” Cailu replied. “Your daughter has been a tremendous help.”
Ishani straightened her back and clutched her hands to her chest. “You bless us both. Sands walk with you, sir.”
There was an unspoken rule on Ichi when someone invited you to stay. The guests were meant to relax and let the members of the household do all the work. But even with Zahra’s help, preparing anything for thirteen people would be no easy feat.
“Ishani, if you’d permit me to, I’d love to help you prepare everything.” Tristan smiled. “I know there are a lot of us.”
“Oh! Me, too!” Cannoli said. She’d been far more chipper during their journey back than Tristan had seen her in a long time. He hoped it was a good sign.
Ishani studied them for a time, eyes flickering to the full group as her tail rocked back and forth in thought. At last, she nodded. “Yes, I would be glad to have your assistance.”
“And mine, of course,” Zahra chimed in. “It is still my house after all.”
Ishani swept an arm over Zahra’s shoulders and hugged her daughter close. “Of course, my sweet. This will always be your home.”
They moved to the modest kitchen while the rest of the group made their way outside. Cannoli set to work on passing out drinks and preparing small plates while Ishani gave Tristan and Zahra instructions for cutting and seasoning meats. While they worked, Ishani’s questions began to roll in like the tide.
“We heard of Magni’s death a little over two days after it happened,” Ishani began. “An Ejderha arrived begging for Sanctuary. How did it happen?”
Zahra pursed her lips. “The Ejderha didn’t say?”
“It is best to hear a tale from a tongue you trust,” Ishani replied.
“Cailu challenged Magni to a sanctioned duel and won,” Tristan said. “He left the throne to Naeemah.”
“Then it is true. That is wonderful news!” Ishani stoked the flames at the stove, hooking a large pot over the coal. “And what of Sanrai?”
Tristan looked up from his diced onyans and over at Zahra.
Zahra’s expression softened. “Sanrai returned to the sands, Mother,” she said softly. “She refused to see reason.”
Ishani froze, her hand hovering over a ladle. A string of expressions passed over her face, her eyes searching into an abyss they could not see.
Even after the hell Sanrai had put them through, Tristan’s heart broke for her mother. He couldn’t imagine how receiving news like that felt, and he desperately searched for the right thing to say. Sanrai was powerful, intense, calculating. She’d driven them out of the city not once, but twice, and very nearly killed Ceres.
“Zahra did everything she could to bring her sister home.” Tristan was careful to keep his words even. “You raised two incredible daughters, Ishani.”
Ishani’s lower lip quivered, and a string of tears trickled from the corners of her eyes.
Zahra stepped forward and embraced her mother in a tight hug.
Tristan quietly set the knife down beside the cutting board and stepped into the hallway. He was surprised to find Cannoli on the other side of the threshold, hugging the doorframe and peeking inside.
Cannoli’s cheeks pinked, and she rapidly blinked her bright ruby eyes. “I-I just didn’t want to interrupt anything,” she whispered.
“I know. You’re not the type to eavesdrop.” Tristan grinned.
“Tristan… how do you do that?”
He blinked. “Do what?”
“You always know just what to say to make someone feel better,” Cannoli murmured. She looked into the kitchen and back at him. “Not just to me, but what you said to Ishani about Sanrai was so kind. Even though Sanrai was never nice to us. Not once.”
It was Tristan’s turn to blush. He ran a hand through his hair and crossed his arms, realizing only a second later that it was a gesture he’d picked up from Matt. He sighed and shook his head. “I just try to put myself in their shoes.”
Cannoli cocked her head to the side and touched her chin. “Why would you want to wear their shoes?”
“No, not actually wear their shoes.” Tristan covered a laugh behind his hand. “What I mean is, I think about what I would want to hear in their situation. Like finding you here. You wouldn’t want me to call you a spy, right?”
“No. I would have felt awful if you thought that.”
“Exactly. It’s important to see things from the other person’s perspective, I think. No real magic to it.”
Cannoli rocked on the balls of her feet. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It takes a lot of practice.” He leaned to the side, seeing if he could catch Zahra’s eye.
Zahra locked his gaze and waved him into the kitchen. Ishani dabbed at her eyes with a cloth and inhaled a deep breath.
“Back to work, then?” Tristan asked Cannoli.
“Yes.” She touched his shoulder and flashed him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Tristan. For the advice.”
“You’re welcome.” He cupped a hand over hers. “Though, a smile like that will make anyone feel better, Cannoli.”
Cannoli giggled and ducked into the kitchen.
“Apologies for my poor manners, Tristan,” Ishani said as he returned.
“Please, you have nothing to apologize for.” He shook his head. “Besides, cutting onyans makes everyone cry, right?”
Ishani laughed, her mood brightened, and they continued to prepare the afternoon meal.
They were able to serve it in good time, and the conversation was light-hearted and cordial. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits and laughed easily. Tristan was happy to enjoy a meal outside of the citadel. The experience was a lot closer to an intimate family gathering rather than the battle strategy style meetings that every meal in Rājadhānī brought with it.
Tristan finished eating before the others and procured his sketchbook from his [Cat Pack]. With the enchanted pen, he sketched a smiling Zahra. Something about her had changed since they first met. She now carried herself with a grace Tristan recognized in Naeemah, and the determined spark in her eyes had changed to one of excitement. She’d succeeded in her mission, and it showed.
Flipping the page, he made one more drawing. A piercing, ruthless gaze. Lips slanted in a dry, knowing smile. Dark tattoos carved into umber skin. Sanrai looked as alive in his sketch as she did in the shadow of the citadel.
As the others readied to leave, he handed the sketches to Ishani. “These are for you.”
Ishani accepted both pieces of parchment, her lips parting in a silent ‘o.’ Eyes wide, she looked at Tristan. “You protected my daughter, and now you grant me such beautiful gifts. Tristan, I have no way of repaying you.”
“You already have, Ishani.” Tristan touched her wrist. “May the wind carry your desires—”
“And the sun warm your back,” she finished for him, clutching the drawings to her chest. “You are truly Saoirse’s gift to this world, child.”
As they departed Madhyam, Tristan let himself believe Ishani’s words, just a little. He knew he’d need them in the coming weeks.
sometimes it's the little things that count