Free Unraveled by Gennifer Albin

the wood’s grain to stem the trembling
     in them.
    Cormac presses the com near his end of the table, ignoring me. “Next course, and send
     a maid to the dining room.”
    “But then she’ll know about our domestic problems,” I say.
    “I’ll have her removed when she’s finished cleaning up your mess,” he says, and I
     fall back against my chair.
    This is why I’m kept alone, because I’m always screwing things up for innocent people
     like Jost and Enora. The maid enters the room and gawks for a split second at the
     wall, but she replaces her surprise with practiced indifference and goes about cleaning
     up the soup.
    “It slipped,” I call to her. “I’m terribly clumsy.” I keep my eyes on Cormac as I
     speak and he nods once like an approving master. I am but his humble servant once
     more, like everyone else in Arras.
    Once the maid leaves I wait for him to make the call to have her altered or removed,
     but he doesn’t place it. I’ve performed to his satisfaction.
    The main course is a selection of vegetables—carrots, potatoes, a squash of some sort—in
     a heavy tomato sauce. The first bite reveals complex tones of red wine and I savor
     it, before pointing out the obvious.
    “There’s no meat.”
    “I’m trying to eat less of it. Doctor’s orders,” he explains.
    “You’re immortal.”
    “I am not immortal.”
    “You’ve used other people’s time threads to stay alive for hundreds of years,” I argue.
    “That’s not immortality.”
    “What is it then?” I ask.
    “That’s privilege.”
    It must be nice to be a man.
    “And privilege allows me to choose such spirited company,” he continues.
    I smile at him. “I can throw this plate against the wall if you like.”
    “There’s been enough collateral damage for one evening, I think.”
    I shrug and pretend to pick up the plate but he doesn’t crack a smile of his own.
     The Cormac who could appreciate my spirited company seems to be fading with each dramatic
     new development in Arras. At least the old Cormac was fun to fight with. Now his behavior
     is unpredictable.
    “Despite your behavior this evening, I have a present for you.”
    “It’s not my birthday,” I tell him. Still no smile.
    “You missed two while you were away,” he reminds me. “I’m catching up.” Now he is
     smiling, acting sweet, his attitude totally reversing in seconds. I can’t wrap my
     head around it.
    “Does that count?”
    “I’m having it brought with the dessert course,” he says.
    “Is my present edible?” I ask. Chocolate might be worth getting excited over.
    “Generally it’s considered poor taste to eat one’s presents.”
    “Unless it’s chocolate.”
    “It’s not chocolate.”
    “Damn.”
    When they arrive with the final course, my dessert is placed in front of me. I can’t
     stop staring.
    But my present won’t meet my eyes.
    “Amie will be residing at the Western Coventry for the foreseeable future,” he says.
     I look to Amie for a sign that she’s happy about this, but she’s watching her plate.
    “What do you think?” he asks.
    “You said it wasn’t chocolate. There is clearly chocolate on this plate,” I say, smiling.
    “The dessert is chocolate,” he says.
    “Amie loves chocolate.” It’s the only thing I can think to say in this moment. Her
     eyes flicker up to me and she gives me a tentative smile as though a real one would
     be too costly. She can’t be here. Amie is a means of distraction.
    “I see you have that in common,” Cormac says. He gestures to the desserts in front
     of us— torta di cioccolato . The same as at my first meal at the Coventry. Now I’m eating it with my sister.
     The sister who was never supposed to wind up here.
    “It’s delicious,” Amie says in a polite, if small, voice.
    “There’s more. Don’t be shy about it,” he says. “My girls are too skinny.”
    My stomach sinks at the way he casually throws out my girls . Neither of us belongs to him, yet