BA’SH
Ba’sh looked around the table, feeling an odd sense of balance that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
He sat at the head of the table, of course. Pia was in her usual spot on the right side and Jax on the left.
But Yasmine was at the table too, sitting to Pia’s right.
The little one had pulled her chair up close to the nanny’s chair so that she was practically in her lap. Yasmine didn’t seem to mind, even when Pia’s little hand tucked itself into hers.
Across from them, Jax looked more relaxed than he had in days.
The kitchen staff bustled in and out of the room, carrying in a Hearth Day dinner’s worth of food.
“Goodness,” Yasmine murmured as a waiter set a wine glass in front of her plate. “Is this a special occasion?”
“It’s like this every night,” Jax told her.
It was a beautiful waste, one more indulgence Ulfgard could trim back in order to make improvements that the whole planet could enjoy. But the day Ba’sh had dared to imply that changes could be made, there was an uproar. Fine dining in the planetary palace was a tradition, and if he scrapped it, jobs would be lost.
Yasmine nodded to Jax, but Ba’sh didn’t miss the slight furrow in her forehead, as if she too were instinctively calculating the costs and questioning the wisdom of such indulgence.
He was about to speak to her about it and then remembered himself. She was his employee, not his new friend. The nanny’s opinion of the palace operating budget was inconsequential.
When the meal was served and the staff had vacated, he looked expectantly at the children.
“Who would like to begin?” he asked.
“Me,” Pia said quickly.
“Okay Olympia,” he said, smiling at his daughter.
But there was a buzz from the other side of the table, and he saw Jax trying to surreptitiously check his bracelet.
“No comms at the table,” Ba’sh said sternly.
Jax frowned and swiped off the bracelet, then looked up at his sister.
“The worst part of my day was vibraforte lessons,” she said firmly. “And the best part was playing hide and seek with Yasmine.”
That tracked. Pia hated the vibraforte, but children had to have an appropriate activity. The girl had excellent rhythm and pitch. One day, she would thank him.
He was glad she liked Yasmine, though. Pia was more agreeable than her brother, but like her father, she had a bit of a tough shell to crack.
He watched as Pia smiled up at Yasmine, as if the nanny had her half-mesmerized.
You and me both, kid.
He stifled that train of thought and turned to Jax.
“And you, son?”
Jax shrugged and scowled down at his roast fowl as if it had wronged him.
“I heard from the school,” Ba’sh purred warningly.
“The worst part of my day was shoving Doff Lydmann in vast-ball,” Jax said, in a cardboard voice.
Ba’sh wanted desperately to ask the boy why he had done it. But the family psychologist said that teens and young kids generally couldn’t answer that question, their impulse control wasn’t equal to premeditated reasoning.