“Oh,” I give a casual shrug. “You’re referring to the dip I took in your fountain? It was…refreshing,” I add, watching his face for any sign of malice.
Manus’s look of concern remains. “That you can see humor in what occurred last night says much about your character, Kricket, not to mention your upbringing. I apologize for our lack of security.”
“I had security. I had Trey,” I reply softly, not looking at Trey.
“Yes, excellent work, Kesek,” he says to Trey with admiration in his tone. “You both know Haut Kyon and Ateur Victus.” Manus gestures with a smile as we greet them, inclining our heads. “This is Ateur Braedan and Ateur Gustoff.”
Ateur Braedan is startling in that he doesn’t have Rafeish violet eyes, but green ones like a Comantre. His dark hair is a little wavy, too. Ateur Gustoff is even more startling because he is the oldest looking Rafe I’ve seen so far. He looks like he could be in his fifties, which probably means he’s freakishly old. His hair is short, too, only just covering his neck, but still dark without a hint of grey in it.
“Greetings Ateur Braedan, Ateur Gustoff,” I say while inclining my head. Then my eyes fall again on Kyon sitting upon his spix, watching me.
“Have you ridden before, Kricket?” Kyon asks, looking me over.
“No,” I reply with a grimace. “Where were you when I was ten, Manus, and I wanted a pony?” I ask, hearing them all laugh. But, then a spix the size of a Clydesdale is led in front of me and my heart starts pounding against my ribs.
Manus grins indulgently. “A pony…that is a type of equine, is it not?”
“Mmm,” I nod, trying to hide my fear, but I jump when Trey touches my arm. Leaning near my ear, his silky voice fills me with desire as he says, “I’ll lift you into the saddle. Put your foot in my hands.” I try to ignore the thrilling ache his nearness elicits. Resting my hand on his shoulder and lifting my foot to his hands, I resist the urge to let my fingertips linger on him as he lifts me into the saddle that has no pommel on it.
“Here are your reigns, Kricket,” Trey says, and I try not to focus on his perfect mouth. “Hold them in one hand, like this.” He positions my hand on the reigns.
“Okay,” I murmur, not looking at him, but feeling myself blush stupidly from his touch. I wait as he adjusts the stirrups on the saddle to accommodate my shorter legs. Then, Trey mounts the spix next to mine.
“Are you ready, Kricket?” Manus asks, smiling.
“Yes,” I reply, feeling sweaty.
“Just use your legs to apply pressure to its flanks,” Trey instructs. Watching Trey, his legs squeeze the sides of his spix gently and the animal moves forward easily.
“You mean I can’t just put a token in it?” I ask quietly, seeing his lips twitch in a grudging smile as he pulls his spix to a halt, waiting for me to try it. “Okay,” I breathe, squeezing the spix’s sides gently with my legs and immediately feeling the animal walk forward.
Smiling broadly at Trey, I ask, “What’s this one’s name?”
“What?” he asks with a crooked smile.
“Does it have a name?”
“A name?” Victus asks, grinning like I’ve asked a novel question.
“You know…like Sugar or Daisy—Killer…Mister…Ed?” I trail off, looking around as they all begin to laugh again.
“It’s a spix,” Ateur Braedan says, like I’m an adorable idiot.
“How do you know which one is which then?” I ask curiously, not offended.
“They’re numbered. That’s twenty-two,” Trey explains, pointing to the brand on the back of my spix.
I wrinkle my nose when I see the brand. “Number twenty-two, huh. That’s lame.”
“What would you name it, Kricket?” Trey asks me, trying to hide his smile.
“Urr, I don’t know,” I say, patting the spixes neck softly. “She’s very beautiful…maybe Andromeda.”
That gets more laughter before Trey can say, “She’s a he.”
“Oh,” I smile at my faux pas, “then definitely Adonis.” Walking my spix beside Trey’s, the conversation gradually turns to other topics. I listen while they discuss growth rates of pixelaries in the class five district.
“What’s a pixelary?” I whisper to Trey.
Pulling his spix nearer to mine, Kyon answers me, “It’s a plant that produces fiber to create material.”
“Like cotton?” I ask, trying to show him that I’m not afraid of him.
“Yes,” he smiles at me, “but it is more versatile than cotton. It does not leach the soil like a cotton plant does.”
“Are you a farmer?” I ask Kyon, wondering just what he does in Alameeda.
“Not in the traditional sense. I own an interest in several agricultural ventures,” he says, his blue eyes gazing ahead of us as we approach a wooded area. The path through the trees only allows for two spixes to walk side by side. Kyon maneuvers his spix to squeeze out Trey’s, forcing Trey to fall back behind us with Victus.
“I’m sure the Brotherhood keeps you very busy,” I say, not knowing anything about what I just said and realizing I’m his prisoner until the path widens again.
“It does,” he agrees. “But, I do spend most of my time on my estate near the Loch of Cerulean.”
“What do you do there?”
“It’s on the sea, so I sail…fish, walk on the shore…it’s peaceful,” he says, and I can’t keep from giggling. “Why are you laughing?”
“Sorry,” I reply, lifting my hand to cover my mouth. “I was just trying to imagine you walking on the beach, collecting seashells and the visual was…out of character.”
“I underestimated you, Kricket,” Kyon says softly. “You’re so much more than I could have imagined.”
“What?” I ask, startled by his compliment.
“Having to fight all your life for survival hasn’t made you less…it has made you more.” His blue eyes meet mine. “But, wouldn’t it be nice to no longer have to struggle for survival?” he asks, and my heart twists because he does see me.
“It would, Kyon,” I agree softly, lifting an eyebrow. “But, that’s not going to happen any time soon.”
“Not here. In Alameeda, things could be different,” he replies, allowing his spix to come closer to mine. I glance behind me to see Trey frowning, but I doubt he can hear what Kyon is saying.
“Oh…right,” I reply softly, “I should just agree to be your consort and you’ll take care of me. What did you call it? A symbiotic relationship?”
“I’m sorry I said that. I propose a partnership between you and me. You need someone to advise you, Kricket.”
“And that’s you?”
“Who else will give you straight answers?” he counters, looking serious. “I know more about your gifts than anyone here. Though I have many questions…because there’s no one like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can just…do it, can’t you? No preparation or trances you just…see.”