A few hours earlier, Fay and Good Chip were on a spree.
They ate like the day would end if they stopped. Skewers of meat slick with sauce. Steamed buns that left their fingers shiny. Cakes that crumbled sweet grit between the teeth.
Fay's belt pinched and Good Chip's belly pushed against his robe like a stubborn gourd.
"Sister Fay, let's eat more," Good Chip demanded, eyes bright and unfocused.
Fay swallowed and tasted salt and smoke and something cloying that refused to fade. Something was wrong.
Yet when she tried to name it, her thoughts slid off the idea. She forced herself to think of Master Radeon instead.
Of what would displease him. Of what would earn punishment, and what would earn trust.
Good Chip looked unharmed. Just sauce smeared across his mouth from the earlier barbecue, his cheeks flushed with greedy joy.
The sight made Fay's worry feel like overthinking, a tight little knot she could untie if she only relaxed.
