Page 17

“Bob, Medusa, and Perseus are already in the Upperworld,” Liora explained. “They won’t be back for at least two weeks.” She turned to Asterion and Ria. “I know you guys just got here and we haven’t sorted out childcare for Korinnae so we won’t have you join this mission.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Zara added. “Just stay home and wait until we get back so you can get settled in. But, are you going to be okay without us?”

“Fine,” Asterion said.

He was not fine.

Chapter 4

Ria

Ria had never cooked in this kitchen before, so she opened the cabinets one by one until she found what she needed. She found flour behind the third one, sugar in the fifth. There was also a complete set of pans and pots on one of the bottom drawers, as well as various sizes of bowls. Everything was new and untouched, and there were even a dozen fresh eggs in the shiny new fridge.

Pancakes were the one thing she could make without a recipe as her mother had taught her when she was nine, standing on a step stool at the counter. Ria had burned every single one that first morning. Her mother had eaten them anyway and told her father they were perfect, and her father had said they were “definitely cooked.”

The house was so quiet that she could hear her own breathing over the whisk. The only other sound came from her phone, propped against the fruit bowl, playing the latest track from one of her favorite Korean girl groups. She continued to whisk until the click-clack of tiny hooves made her stop and turn toward the doorway. Korinnae stood there in an oversized shirt that hung past her knees, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand.

“Good morning,” Ria greeted.

“Morning,” she yawned. “What are you making?” Her sleepy little eyes moved from the bowl to the stove, then back at Ria.

“Pancakes. You want some?”

The calf padded over. “Can I help with making them?”

“Sure. Clean up first.”

Korinnae headed to the sink, washed her hands enthusiastically, coming back with wet sleeves. “Ready,” she said.

Ria handed her a wooden spoon. “Stir this while I heat the pan. Slowly, though. If you go too fast, it’ll splash everywhere. Make sure it’s all mixed up, with no dry bits.”

“Okay.”

Turning the stove on, Ria placed a pan on top of the burner, then added a splash of oil. Then she checked on Korinnae, who was laser-focused on ensuring the batter was smooth and every speck of flour was incorporated into the wet ingredients.

“Good job,” she said, as she took the bowl. Glancing around, she gestured at the stool in the corner. “Now grab that and come and watch.”

By the time the first scoop of batter hit the pan, Korinnae had perched herself on the stool and began to pepper Ria with questions between each flip. Why did the bubbles mean it was ready? Why couldn’t you flip it twice? What happened if you put chocolate in it? Could you put chocolate in it? Could they put chocolate in it right now?

“Next time,” Ria promised as she slid the last of the pancakes onto the serving plate. “But we’re all done. Let’s eat.”

Korinnae drowned hers in honey and ate with enthusiasm. Ria sat across from her with her own plate and her coffee, and for a few minutes, the kitchen was just the sound of chewing, the scrape of forks, and the tinny beat of the song still playing from her phone.

Korinnae pointed at the phone with her fork. “I know this one.”

“Yeah?”

“You played it at the Ridge. When we were practicing.”

“Good memory.”

“Can we practice again later?”

“If you want.”

“I want.” Korinnae chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Does your mom like this music?”

Ria looked up. “My mom? She likes everything with a good beat. My dad says she has no taste, but he married her, so…”