Reema squinted at me as if not sure whether to believe me or not. Her dubious expression aged her and she looked years older than ten.
“It’s true,” Opal said. “I was there.”
“Well, I’d rather learn how to be a spy like Uncle Valek,” Reema said. “Do you think he’d take me on as his student?” she asked me.
Opal and Devlen held their breaths. Leif choked on his food.
“Only after you graduated from the Magician’s Keep.”
“You’re lying,” Reema said.
“Reema!” Opal and Devlen said at the same time.
I was unable to stop the laughter bubbling from my throat.
Once he caught his breath, Leif said, “Gotta love the honesty.”
“Yelena, we are trying to teach Reema manners and respect,” Devlen said.
“All right. Reema, you can be brutally honest with me and Uncle Leif at any time. However, you can’t accuse someone of lying. You first have to collect proof, and—”
“Yelena!”
This time Reema laughed as her adopted parents scolded me. Her humor died when Opal told her to get ready for bed.
“You’ll finish the story, right?” Reema asked me.
“Yes. I’ll give you a few minutes to get changed and I’ll be in. Where were we?”
“The curious Valmur was hanging from a vine by only one claw and a jungle cat waited below for him to fall.”
“Oh yes. Now go.” I shooed her away.
Reema hurried down the hallway leading to the washroom and bedrooms. The apartment contained only six rooms, kitchen, living area, washroom and three bedrooms. The office had been converted so each kid would have a room.
Once Reema disappeared into the washroom, I asked, “May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course,” Opal said.
“Perhaps Reema needs to be in a higher grade. That might challenge her.”
“The problem for her is that no one grade fits,” Opal said. “In some areas like math and street smarts, she’s well above her peers, but in others like history and reading...she’s well below. We thought it best to keep her with the other ten-year-olds.”
It made sense.
“And this way she’ll learn patience.” Opal cleared the table.
“I’m ready!” Reema called from the hallway. “Come on, come on!” She dashed into her room.
“Patience, eh? Good luck with that.” I ducked as Opal threw a dish towel at my head.
As I strode toward her room, I glanced at the intricate and beautiful stained-glass murals hanging on the walls. I had never appreciated the versatile aspects of glass until I met Opal. I lingered over one particular swirl of orange that curved into yellow, split into red and looped back, tracing the pattern with a finger. Lovely.
A dim light shone through the small gap between the door and jamb of Reema’s room. I pushed it wider as I stepped inside. And froze.
Reema’s bed was empty. The curtains billowed as a cold breeze blew in from the open window.