Selima was itching to get back to Jerusalem. It was not as if she disliked being away from home- but it felt like it had been so long since she had seen her family. She was missing them, and truthfully all this time spent with Simeon got aggravating- not that she would dare speak that aloud to anyone. After all, their marriage was perfect.

When Talora excused herself after feeling faint, Selima raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t look ill, the poor dear. They had been sitting and chatting so long though, (much to Simeon’s likely dismay- as it was a house filled with women) that it could make anyone tired. “Zevah, did you say that you made the tea that I gave to you? I’ll be happy to bring a cup of it out for Talora. I find when I feel ill I gravitate towards that tea specifically, it always brings a bit more color to my cheeks and settles the stomach.”

Selima stood from her seat and happily gathered the tea as well as ginger she procured from a foreign trader. Apparently ginger was also good for the stomach- at least according to the trader. Selima chose to believe him though, why would he lie? Besides, it worked for her when she was ill. And gifts were meant to be used! Even if Simeon grumbled at the ones she chose to bestow to them.

Wandering outside, the woman took a breath of fresh air. It was a nice evening. It was warm, but the breeze kept it calm and relax. It was neither too humid nor too dry. Selima could only find one word to describe it: Perfect.

“I’m so sorry you felt ill, Talora.” Selima said as she moved beside her. She held out the items she brought out, a small smile on her face. “Here, drink this slowly. It’ll help settle and stomach pain you might be having, but most importantly I find it helps me when I suddenly feel dizzy.”

Selima did not often get to speak with just Talora. She more often spent time with her mother, and even then it was not near as much as Selima would like. They were good people and an interesting family, perhaps the most unique among all of Judea. Simeon may bitterly talk about the lack of… tradition that they had, but Selima thought of it more as an abundance of strength.

“At least you chose a good night to fall ill. Now you can enjoy the air.” Selima said as she looked up at the night sky. “I often ask Abir to take a walk with me in the evenings. I find I prefer it much more to the day. Something about the stars just makes it seem that much more peaceful.”

For a moment Selima almost quirked her brow. Abir is a fine man to walk with. She almost spoke of it like she had experience. Selima was unaware of how much time Abir spent with Talora. She had seen them speaking together at different events and dinners, but never did the pair seem to go on a walk together. Though perhaps it was evening and she needed to be escorted somewhere. She had no father or brother, so it wouldn’t be inappropriate Abir as a Protector of Jerusalem to be an escort.

A fine conversationalist. That caused Selima to smile. Selima liked to think that most of Abir’s best traits came from her. She worked hard instilling them within him at such a young age so that he would grow up to be a good man. But the conversationalist was not Selima, but Simeon. While Simeon certainly was… a man of strict conviction especially within his home, in polite society he had such a magnetic personality. His words sounded so strong and so enticing. He was interesting to hear from. Selima was kind and liked to think she wasn’t uninteresting. But in conversation, it was Simeon who shined, and it was a good trait for Abir to inherit.

“Liviana and Davitah had just gotten over a small illness. I, myself, almost did not come because I feared leaving them. But when I awoke this morning Davitah was chasing Liviana all around the house and Livana was shrieking with laughter. Abir had duties to perform with the protectors. So he had to remain in Jerusalem, which was a shame. I know he loves going on these trips. Katriel remained as well to take care of the home while I am away.” At least that is what she should be doing. The reality was not quite that… perfect. It never was, especially not with Katriel. But never would Selima complain- not without risking tarnishing the reputation the family worked so hard to keep.

The smile that Talora gave never reached her eyes. Selima hesitated. What was wrong? Now, Selima did not suspect that something was going on between her son and Talora. She had been oblivious at the wedding, blinded by her own memories, and happy for Maeri and Amiti. Never once did she stop to look at Talora or Abir, at least not long enough to catch any longing gaze.

But Selima was a sharp woman. She knew when something was off. She knew it ten years ago when Abir had decided to wed Katriel. She knew it when betrothed to Simeon, that he was not quite the man he publicly showed himself to be. And she knew it now, with Talora smiling and giving polite words, but shielding her thoughts behind her mask.

The reason eluded Selima. Was Selima making Talora feel discomfort? She had thought to bring her tea to soothe her stomach, but perhaps it was being too… motherly towards a girl that was not her daughter. Selima did try to care for everyone, of blood relation or not. But that could be overbearing to others, she supposed. Or maybe there was something else that Selima did not know of. Maybe she had witnessed something uncouth and was thinking ill of her and her family? Maybe Amiti had spoken to her about what they had witnessed at the temple. Though… that would be… uncharacteristic of him, to say the least. Especially after they discussed never bringing it up again.

Selima couldn’t narrow it down. So instead she returned the smile with one of her own. “The dinner was lovely. Your mother is quite the cook. I will have to remember that recipe so I can make it for my family.”

Perhaps it would be better just to ask the girl. She might not speak the truth, but Selima would believe her anyway. She never liked to doubt people- not without proper reason. And even when she had that reason, she still had faith that whatever they said was for an altruistic purpose, one that she knew not. “Am I causing you discomfort, Talora, dear? I apologize if I am. That is the last thing I would want.”