Page 101 of The Exquisite Torment of Loving Your Enemy
“Fria. I’d better go. I’m going to be late.”
“Don’t go,” said Osric.
“What?”
“Skive off with me.”
“I’ve never skived off in my life,” said Fairhrim, scandalised. “Besides, I’ve got important meetings today.”
“What sort of meetings?”
“Admin,” said Fairhrim, with the slightest wrinkle of her nose.
“You worked all night. You triggered your Cost. And you were stabbed by a Fyren. Take a day off.”
Fairhrim was torn. “I’m already off tonight. I’m going to the opera.”
“Will the sky fall if you miss the admin?” asked Osric.
“That would take a greater sin. But it would be irresponsible.”
“Be irresponsible. Be irresponsible with me.”
Fairhrim thought about it. Calculated. Looked at her torn dress and its bloodstain. Ran a palm over her damaged fingers.
She held up her tacn and summoned her deofol.
The white genet materialised. It narrowed its eyes upon seeing Osric.
“Hullo, darling,” said Fairhrim.
“You were hurt,” said the genet, observing her dress.
“I’m fine.”
“You were only meant to be dropping off a present.”
“Things got—complicated. I’ve a few messages for Swanstone.”
“Is it to inform them that you successfully converted gift-giving into a blood sport?” The deofol turned to Osric. “This is your fault, isn’t it?”
Fairhrim launched into her instructions before Osric could admithis culpability. “Tell Whitman to chair the Research Excellence Committee meeting for me. Tell Corinne and Nym that I’m putting them in charge of the lab today. And tell Quincey to clear the rest of my schedule: I’m taking a day off to care for somebody.”
“Who?” asked the genet, with a darkly suspicious look at Osric.
“Me,” said Fairhrim.
“Oh,” said the deofol. “That’s acceptable.”
It butted its forehead against Fairhrim’s and disappeared.
Fairhrim twisted her hands together. Squirmed. Looked up.
“The sky hasn’t fallen,” she said, in light of her sin.
“No,” said Osric.
“I’m skiving off,” said Fairhrim. She pressed a disbelieving hand to her mouth. Her eyes were wide. This was clearly the height of naughtiness.
