Together, they walked a long marble hallway, past more family paintings in hand carved wooden frames.
When they reached the end of the hall, Mimi let go of Emilia’s hand to push open a stout wooden door.
The kitchen was enormous, with stainless appliances and counters. Windows overlooking the lush rear lawn brought warmth to the otherwise utilitarian space.
“Daddy,” Mimi cried joyfully.
Emilia looked up in surprise to see that Ra’as was leaning against a counter, wolfing down some sort of pale paste from a plastic container.
“Hey there, nutmeg,” he said, wiping his mouth and placing the container on the counter beside him.
Mimi ran up to him, arms in the air and he swung her up to his chest. The tiny girl only served to accentuate Ra’as’s huge, muscular form.
“How was your day?” he asked her.
It was impossible not to notice the way his ears pricked up, or his tail wrapped around his daughter’s waist as he spoke to her.
“Good,” she said softly, looking down at his chest.
Oh. She didn’t want him to know she hit Emilia with an arrow. Well, Emilia certainly wasn’t going to tell him. But this was her father, he would know something was wrong.
“Your archery teacher says you’re doing a very good job,” Ra’as told her.
She lifted her chin and gave him a radiant smile.
He placed her gently on the floor.
“I’ve got to get back to my office, I have another conference call,” he said, dumping the container in the sink and heading back to the hallway. “Cook left dinner in the fridge, all you have to do is heat it up.”
Emilia watched after him, stunned.
How could such an obviously wealthy and important man not have the liberty to eat dinner with his children? Or even notice when something was wrong?
“The fridge is here,” Mimi said solemnly, pointing at the refrigerator.
Well, if they had a cook, then dinner would probably be something wonderful. Emilia figured Ra’as must be eating that weird pale glop because he was on some kind of diet.
It made her sad, but it also kind of made sense. You didn’t have a body like his without hard work.
But when she opened the heavy door, she was greeted by the sight of rows and stacks of basically identical boxes, each labeled with a household member’s name and the day of the week, as well as a nutrition list.
Emilia was sure she had never seen so much food look so unappealing in her entire life.