— No problem, then I’ll keep working here! — the peasant replied briskly, gncing quickly around the room.

  She walked over and opened several windows, letting a fresh morning gust sweep inside. The wind gently tousled the loose strands of her hair, like a mother brushing her child’s cheek in py. Turning back, she returned to the sack and began checking its contents. Among the materials, she found a simple bucket stuffed with pieces of cloth. There were also several brushes and bags filled with a heavy powder.

  For whitewash? Or pster again? They didn’t look like the ones from yesterday.

  The dark-skinned girl pulled one out, turning it in her hands and squinting at the writing, trying to make sense of it.

  — Damn it… — she muttered irritably when she couldn’t find anything helpful.

  All that time, Yanael sat by the wall with one leg drawn close to her chest. She watched Ivy work. The girl bored tirelessly. Small, hardworking. In some strange way, Yanael admired her. It almost seemed as if the peasant was simply… better. Stronger somehow. As if Yanael wished she could be a little like her.

  Admiration.

  Yanael tapped her forehead several times with her knuckles, trying to knock any romantic thoughts out of her head. Was it because she considered herself a lesbian? Maybe. But right now the whole thing irritated her.

  Meanwhile, Ivy pressed her lips together and finally decided to open the bag. As soon as she inhaled the contents, a sharp smell of lime hit her nose, and she sneezed loudly, turning away.

  So that was for the floor. Ideally, they’d need sand too — that kept cracks from forming — though it wasn’t strictly necessary.

  — Hey, do you have to buy sand around here, or is there somewhere to get it? Back in my vilge, we had plenty. Anyone could take it for repairs.

  Ivy asked while pulling out the bucket and pcing it beside the familiar bag from yesterday. Now she needed water.

  Straightening up, the girl gnced around quickly and looked toward the second door. Starting the floor here wouldn’t be a good idea with the table and the only exit in the way.

  Another day of cleaning and preparation in the second room first — that would make more sense.

  Having decided that, the peasant sealed the bags tightly, tossed the clean spatu into the bucket, grabbed another bag of wall mixture, and lifted both. With them in her hands, she headed toward the second room, gncing at Yanael as she passed.

  — Elves don’t really like building much, it seems, — Yanael replied. — So there’s none of that around here. You have to buy it.

  When Ivy looked at her, the elf immediately turned her eyes away awkwardly, almost guiltily. Now she worried the peasant might think something strange. Sitting there staring like that… no shame at all.

  Ivy probably thought she was crazy. Or just some disgusting slut.

  Which wasn’t that far from the truth, so why even worry?

  Ivy paused at the doorway and turned back to face her. Her full lips pressed together thoughtfully. Things like this should be discussed with the owner right away — fewer problems ter. After all, she worked here, even if she did the bor herself.

  — The floor should be coated with a special mixture so it isn’t so cold and the stone won’t absorb moisture. To keep the mixture from cracking after a few years, you’d normally add sand. Cy helps hold warmth better. That part’s optional — your choice. The area here is pretty dry, so it might st longer anyway, but I can’t promise.

  She gnced down at the floor.

  — Not today, though. There’s time to think about it. And it’s better to start in the second room — the floor will need time to set.

  After saying that, the peasant turned halfway and tried to push the door open with her elbow, since both hands were full.

  — I don’t understand any of that. I’ll leave it up to you, — Yanael replied with a tired smile.

  She hesitated, rubbing her hands together as she forced herself to ask what had been on her mind.

  — Why didn’t you leave? I feel like anyone else would’ve run off already. We didn’t even talk about your pay. I just… don’t fucking get it. Do you want something from me? Something I don’t know about? Something you can’t admit?

  Right now, the repairs seemed to matter far less to Yanael than to Ivy. She could live in conditions like this without compining.

  Yet the worker cared more about fixing the pce than the owner herself.

  Where had anyone ever seen something like that?

  The whole thing felt very, very strange.