Page 24 of The Cannibal

9

THE SOCIALITE

“You know you aren’t supposed to talk to anyone before the Appraisal.”

“I didn’t realize I needed an appointment to see my daughter.”

The Guild where he had made a reservation was supposed to be gentlemen only. Though there was no fuss about rules when they heard the name. No one wanted him to ask twice.

The room was mostly mixed types of leathers and dark wood, paintings of hunts and no variety. Which was their prerogative, but their main crime was that it was ugly and lacking in distinction. They could have at least added a splash of color. This is what happens when you let men decorate by themselves.

“It isn’t about me or appointments, you know it.” I shifted in my seat, checking over my shoulder again.

“Paranoid, are you?” My father flashed a charming smile. “My arrival isn’t a secret. Unless you wanted it to be?” His tone was mockingly oblivious.

“They don’t know you like I do, you will send people into a panic,” I scolded.

“Me?” He pointed to himself. “Why would I cause a panic?”

“Father,” I sighed, “you aren’t supposed to come in contact without the other representatives⁠—”

“Do you have something with a little more body? Perhaps vintage?” he asked the evening host, who nodded before whisking away to the bar.

“Are you listening to me?” I strained.

“Of course, of course.”

“You saw Alina,” I said. I didn’t phrase it as a question, because it gives him an opportunity to get around it.

“I was just explaining myself. Can’t a man have that at least?” He held his hand out to take mine, using his other to cup it. “My little peony, you are jumpy like a rabbit. You remember what we say about rabbits⁠—”

“I know,” I swallowed, not able to resist another glance over my shoulder.

“Are you embarrassed by me?” He sighed. “I know it’s cumbersome to entertain your father, but I missed you so dearly.”

I threw a glance at him. “I missed you too,” I said softly, “it’s just been a while.”

“You’re nervous,” he said. “I knew it.”

“No! No, that’s not it.” I bit my lip.

The waiter returned with a bottle. The dark container hiding the fermented delicacy within. The natural wax drippings were dusty from storage, and the label written with hand calligraphy.

“Seventeen, twenty years in the bottle, Diabetes Mellitus,” the host presented the bottle, “it has that wonderfully rare sweetness, high in pyruvic acid.”

“Ah, sounds delightful.” He inspected the label, squinting slightly as he appreciated the presentation.

Even though my father was here for less jovial reasons, I found myself breathing a sigh of relief. I was high maintenance, I knew that, but I didn’t realize how hard it was without simple comforts. I would do almost anything for Alina, that was no mystery, but I wanted to be with her and my comforts.

Life did not have to be about suffering, as she may believe. I hoped that I could show her that she can do her life’s work while also enjoying finer things. Perhaps she thinks of herself as a hypocrite, since she is such a staunch utilitarian, and her confliction with Vipera as a class and race. But that is why she has me, to show her.

I asked myself if perhaps it was money I missed. But I knew it was more than that. It was community, options, the urge to show off just a touch.

But most of all, I missed my father.

He never raised his voice at me or made me feel lesser than. My memories of him may be scarce, but each time he came home my heart felt so warm. He would bring me gifts each time he returned. But with Silas’s recounts and warnings, the child inside of me wanted to know for myself if I’d seen him through a limited view.

Silas didn’t see the value in reaching out. But if my father could see some sign of goodness from Silas’s Nest, he may be open to appeal. My father was a businessman, so I must think like one too. To make him see the value in what we built. We could avoid bloodshed completely and start anew. He could be reasonable, I trusted. So far, he didn’t even appear to be upset. Despite what others thought, it gave me some comfort knowing he was making an attempt to reach across the aisle.