But her feet carried her deeper into the town, south as the maid had said. All the while telling herself it was foolish, she didn’t even know what Skyve looked like. All the while wondering how upset Yhkon was, probably watching her as she walked away.
With the rain still falling, she was wet through by the time she found The Curled Dragon, with the help of more specific directions from a passerby. Keeping to the corners and walls, she entered the diner, scanning the customers. No teenage boy with two little girls.
Back in the rain, Talea inwardly lectured herself. She ought to go back. What good was it for her to wander around a strange town, cold and wet, looking for someone she wouldn’t even be able to recognize?
Yet she kept going. She didn’t want to go back.
A dress shop caught her attention, the fancy gowns in the window making it clear that it was upper class and nobility that shopped there. But Skyve was taking his little sisters shopping, wasn’t he? Anyway, it would be shelter from the rain. Talea slipped inside, immediately intrigued by the vivid colors, sparkling jewels, and elegant lace that surrounded her. There wasn’t a single dress anything like the sort she wore. They were all brighter, fancier, more flattering. What would it be like to wear such ornate finery every day? To walk into such a shop and buy whatever caught her fancy?
Well, according to Yhkon’s idea of Calcaria and the status she would have there, one day she would know what it was like.
The excited squeal of a little girl came from somewhere else in the shop. “Oh, Anber, come see this one!”
Anber? Talea moved toward the voice, until she saw two girls admiring child-sized dresses fit for a queen. Dark hair, dark eyes, tan skin. They were Irlaish. As was the teenager who approached shortly after she did, eyes black and glinting, thin lips in a sort of impatient smirk. “Of course you two would like the most expensive shop best.”
The older of the pair grinned at him. “Doesn’t Mother say that you get what you pay for?”
Talea edged backward. Resh had said Skyve was mostly Irlaish, and looked the part. With two little sisters, by the names of Anber and Glisi. Could it be him?
She idled nearby, remaining discreet, until the boy wandered away from his sisters with no particular path, sighing. With a deep breath, she caught up to him. “Um, Skyve?”
He turned around. Those black eyes swept over her in a single, calculating glance that seemed to note every detail and analyze it. The conclusion his calculations came to didn’t seem to be positive, based on his deepening frown. “Yes?”
As if the situation weren’t awkward and daunting enough, without him glowering so critically at her. “Sorry, but you are Skyve Lagat?”
“I am.” His head tilted slightly. Not curiously, not in an endearing way like Rikky. Rather, suspiciously. “Who are you?”
“I’m Talea.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry about uh, this, but, well…” Unsure how else to proceed, she stuck out her hand for him to shake.
He looked at it, then at her, without saying anything or making any move to reciprocate. Finally, with a slow, lazy sort of blink, his expression lost its suspicion. “I’m assuming something unique will happen if I take your hand.”
Hopefully she didn’t look as stunned as she felt. “Um, well—”
“You’re obviously a laborer. And you must know I’m upper class. There would be no other logical reason for you to so boldly introduce yourself, unless you were some form of mentally unstable, and while you’re not exactly astounding me with your wit, it’s fairly obvious you’re sane. So my natural conclusion is that if I touch your hand,” he abruptly grabbed her hand, observing the flurry of sparks with interest but no surprise, “something like this would happen.”
After another moment of gawking at him, she narrowed her eyes, and snapped her mouth shut only to open it, tone nearly matching his with sarcasm. “Alright then, Mr. Upper Class.” Probably better to be humored by his bluntness, and play along, than be offended. “I’m sure you know, then, that it’s because I’ve got the ability too.”
“Of course. Are there eight of us?”
How exactly did you pull that fact out of thin air? “Yes…” She shrugged in acceptance of his intuition. “They said you were smart.” Let me guess, “I assume ‘they’ are…”
“I assume ‘they’ are some warriors, perhaps, assigned to protect us. Or maybe more generally, the—”
She jumped in. “No, your first guess was right. They’re called the Wardens, they call us wards, there’s one of them for each of us.”
“I take it you’re the leader of us wards, in some capacity.”
Oh good, let’s just jump straight into it. “Supposedly. You figured that, how…?”
“Well,” he wasn’t even looking at her anymore, “why else would they send you? Come on, let’s get my sisters and go to my house, where we can talk privately.”
Wow. She didn’t let even a hint of indignation or hurt enter her appearance, lest he notice and take some cruel satisfaction from it. Then again, she had the feeling that his keen perception wouldn’t necessarily extend towards the subtle mannerisms of human emotion. She could probably burst into tears and he would suspect a physical injury as the cause.
Anber and Glisi, upon being introduced to Talea and being told she was going home with them, had different reactions. Anber, the older, gave Skyve a sly look, and said, “So are you two friends…?” Skyve looked like he might literally gag at the insinuation.
Glisi, on the other hand, puckered her brow as she took in Talea’s appearance. “Isn’t she a laborer?”
Talea swallowed, breaking eye contact with the little girl.
Skyve’s reply surprised her more than anything he had said thus far. “You say something that snobbish again, Glisi, and you’ll get to try doing the maid’s duties for a week. Talea is not a laborer, and even if she were that gives you no right to be so foolishly haughty. Understood?”
“Yeah,” Glisi mumbled it under her breath.
“Speak up. And, you owe Ms. Talea an apology.”
With a huff, Glisi lifted her chin and spoke clearly. “Yes, I understand. And I’m sorry, Ms. Talea, for my rudeness.”
Talea cleared her throat, painfully aware of the wide gap between her etiquette and appearance, and theirs. “That’s alright.”
The four of them left the shop. The rain was heavier. Talea hunched her shoulders, prepared for the half mile long walk through the wet to their house, but Skyve didn’t leave the shelter of the dress shop’s canopy. Confused, she waited, not willing to ask what he was doing—the rain showed no signs of stopping anytime soon—lest it make her appear even more the ignorant laborer.
She didn’t have long to wait for the explanation. A coliye drawn carriage across the street approached them. The driver jumped out, a large umbrella in hand, and held it over the heads of the girls as he helped them, then Skyve and Talea, into the carriage. She climbed inside hesitantly, hoping it wouldn’t be too conspicuous by her fumbling or expression that she had never been in so much as a wagon, let alone a lavish vehicle such as this.
It took only a few minutes for them to arrive at the Lagat’s stately home. It was even more impressive inside, not much different than Lord Vissler’s mansion. Apparently upper class lived almost as royally as nobility.