The next morning she awoke to the clanking of dishes, Beltza was setting up breakfast for her on her bedside table. She recognized her father’s own ...hina and silver cutlery, did the Borealans not have their own? They looked savage, perhaps they still ate with their bare hands, how unsavory. She rose to a sitting position groggily, rubbing her eyes and rearranging her silk nightgown as Beltza stood to attention.“Ugh, what time is it? Who told you to enter my room and disturb me?” Beltza looked. “Try to suck in the flame. Once you’ve sucked enough, inhale through your nose. That’ll be easy for you.” She coughed her first time, but tried again, breathed out the window, and smiled. “I’m not high.”“Wait.” I took another two hits, handed it over, and helped her. “Keep going.” She took two hits, and said no more. “Okay. You good?” I asked. She giggled, and closed her eyes, shook her head hard, and stopped. “WHOA.” She was obviously loving the high. She fell back on the bed, and laughed real. More

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