by Zen DiPietro
“Yes, Auntie.” He liked it when she doted on him.
They said their goodbyes and Arc turned off the comm panel. He let himself slouch into the couch for a moment. He really should get to some chores that were begging to be done, but his body declined to pop up and head for the door. After the past few weeks, he felt weary and travel worn. His house and land needed some upkeep, but they could wait until tomorrow. Just then, his couch seemed entirely unwilling to give him up.
Jerking awake, Arc realized his house had grown dark. He’d fallen asleep. Damn. He’d missed Kassimeigh’s call. He raked his fingers through his hair as he gathered his wits from the abyss of sleep.
He sat up and checked his messages on the comm panel, but there was nothing from her. Not even a text or audio-only missive. Frowning, he wondered if he should call her. Kassimeigh wouldn’t fail to follow through on her word unless something serious had occurred. She was a stickler for integrity even in the smallest of things.
He heard a board creak on his porch. That must have been what had awakened him. Someone must have tripped a proximity sensor for his property and he hadn’t registered the sound. He stood and straightened his rumpled clothes as he crossed to the door. Once he opened it, he froze in midmotion at the surreal sight that defied explanation.
Kassimeigh had been stepping toward the door to knock, but she stuttered to a stop and let her hand fall to her side. Arc waited for her to say something but she stared at him mutely with her blue eyes wide. She didn’t seem to be entirely aware of her surroundings, like someone in shock. Her curly red hair reached new heights of unruliness. Most surprisingly, instead of wearing the shoka of a justice, she wore a pair of loose lounge pants and a casual shirt. Seeing her in such an uncharacteristically haphazard state sent slow-moving ripples of dread harpooning through him.
“Kass,” he murmured. All he could think to do was hug her. As he wrapped his arms around her, a reassuring hum of connection filled him. Her body, though firm and powerful as always, lacked her trademark certainty. She leaned into him but her balance seemed off. Pulling back, he framed her face in his hands and fixed his eyes on hers. “Kass, what’s wrong?”
She inhaled a deep breath and blinked, focusing on his face. “The order has expelled me. I’m not a shiv anymore.”
Kassimeigh found herself sitting on Arc’s couch with a mug of something brownish warming her hands. It occurred to her that this was the first time she’d been in Arc’s house and that she should be looking around. Part of her brain was curious, but a heap of more insistent burdens buried her interest.
Arc disentangled the mug from her fingers and set it on a coaster before wrapping her hands in his. The familiar thrum of contact reverberated through her. Without the shiv keep that had housed and taught her since she was a child, she had no other home or family. She could only think of one other place that she belonged. With Arc.
Inside her chest, down through her stomach, she sensed his desire to take care of her. The sensation felt so foreign. She’d devoted her life to being a protector within the shiv order at the age of twelve. She barely remembered anything else, and the sudden shift created a strange mix of alarm and comfort.
She felt inclined to stay in this torpor, to keep examining everything that had happened to her from deep within her mind. But Arc deserved better. She needed to kick herself in the ass and start planning for what came next. Disengaging herself from her inner carousel of thoughts, she pushed her focus back toward the world around her.
“. . . a blanket?” Arc asked.
“What?”
“Your hands are freezing. Would you like a blanket?”
“No. No, thank you.” She anchored herself to the moment, casting herself away from the shifting tide of her thoughts. She realized how poor her posture was. Tightening her core muscles, she straightened up and lifted her chest, rolling her shoulders back.
Her stronger bearing seemed to reassure Arc, and the frown between his eyebrows eased.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.
She hadn’t quite sorted that out, herself. “I had a meeting with the shiv elders. Since Luc and I completed my mana training, I expected to begin adjudicating again. Instead of a new assignment, the elders told me that my path lay outside of the keep.”
Arc gently rubbed her forearm as she continued. “They said I will always be family and can visit whenever I wish, but I have to leave them to follow this new path.” She fell silent, watching his fingers on her skin. He’d always been a touchy-feely guy. He offered compassion as easily as most people offered a hello. It was one of the things she loved about him.
“Your new path as a manahi?” Arc guessed.
She nodded. “That’s what I assume. They told me I have a unique gift, and owe it to Terath to see how I can use that gift to serve the planet and its people.”
“Wow. Ending your life as a shiv and tasking you with something both nebulous and huge. That must have been a shock. Why couldn’t they let you figure it out while still a member of the order?”
“They said that as long as I remained entrenched in my old life, I was limiting myself to possibility.” She shrugged. She’d never considered being anything but a shiv. Now that she was confronted with the necessity, an unfamiliar weight of uncertainty burdened her. In a single day, she’d gone from having a laser-sharp purpose in life to having no clue what came next. No idea of what else she’d want to do. Any other profession she might adopt seemed smaller. Less meaningful.
“What are you wearing?” Arc asked, and she blinked in surprise. She looked down at the loose lounge pants and nondescript shirt that might have been part of a pajama set.
Self-consciously, she ran her hands over the pants, as if smoothing them out would make them less anomalous. “If I’m not a member of the order, I can’t wear a shoka. I rarely ever wore anything else. My options for travel clothes were limited.”
“They’re kind of ugly.”
Her eyes snapped to his, and a ghost of a smile flirted with her mouth for a whisper of a moment. Although Arc’s weapon of choice was a bow, he was equally skilled at wielding humor. Somehow, his easygoing nature and genuine compassion gave him the ability to get away with saying things that no one else would.
“My looks weren’t my biggest concern just then. Or ever.”
“Well your looks have always been my biggest priority so you’d better figure out some post-shiv fashion chop-chop.”
Her lips parted in amazement. “Did you just tell me to do something ‘chop-chop’?”
“Uh, no. On second thought, definitely no. I’ve seen the sword you carry. Where is it, anyway?”
She smirked and leaned against him. He wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his comforting, outdoorsy scent.
“The shivs will deliver my things before evening.” She hadn’t wanted to disassemble her room, so she’d accepted Eryl’s offer to have her things packed and sent to her. After changing her clothes, she could only think of getting to Arc.
“I missed you,” she said. For just a second, she could almost imagine starting her life over again.
“Did you? I hardly noticed that you weren’t around. Only every minute of every hour.”
“Do you mind if I stay here while I figure things out?”
“I’d only mind if you didn’t.” His palm rubbed slow circles on her back.
“How do I begin living a whole new life? Where do I start?”
“Are you kidding? You’re the biggest badass I’ve ever known. You fight like a barbarian and you’re a master manahi. You can do any damn thing you want to do.”
I want to be a shiv. She kept her lips closed against her wish, knowing it was the one thing she absolutely couldn’t have. She mourned the abrupt end to the life she’d loved, but she couldn’t focus the rest of her existence on something she could never achieve.
“Great. Then all I have to do is figure out what I want to do.”
“Izzy!” Surprise at seeing her best friend lifted Kassimeigh’s eyebrows. “What are you doing here?” She gestured for Izzy to come into the house and have a seat on the couch.
“I haven’t heard from you in three weeks. I’ve been worried.” Izzy reclined comfortably against a cushion, but a small twist of her mouth betrayed her disapproval.
A prickle of guilt jabbed Kassimeigh. “I’ve been remiss. I’m sorry to worry you. I just haven’t been ready to talk.”
“What have you been doing?” Izzy studied Kassimeigh.
Kassimeigh followed Izzy’s gaze to her admittedly unfortunate clothing choice and generally messy appearance. By contrast, Izzy’s chin-length, light blue hair and stylish outfit gave her a very polished look. Kassimeigh’s awareness of the difference only highlighted her inability to remedy the situation. She’d been busy and hadn’t yet applied herself to finding a new wardrobe.
“Besides letting yourself go,” Izzy added.
“I have not let myself go. I’m just having a vacation.”
“Vacation?” Izzy’s generously wide mouth pursed into a dubious frown.
Kassimeigh’s shoulders bounced upward. “I’ve never had one. I’ve never been at loose ends or lacked purpose. I’m supposed to be experiencing life like everyone else does, so I’m taking a whack at vacation. And I’ve been catching up on the last three decades or so. Living in a shiv keep, I’ve had little contact with pop culture.”
“You aren’t even three decades old yourself. Wouldn’t two decades of research suffice?”
“Before I joined the shivs, I lived in a cabal. We didn’t tune in to pop culture either. If I’m to integrate into society I need to be able to relate to people. Pop culture is great for establishing common interests and awareness.”
Izzy’s lips pursed thoughtfully. “Okay. That’s actually very logical and systematic. Hmm. What have you found so far?”
“Fashion styles, popular actors, movies, music and the bands that play it, comm programming, and dating trends. That sort of thing.”
“Dating trends?”
“You know, like how many dates you should go on before you decide to—”
“Right,” interrupted Izzy. “Gotcha.” Izzy’s eyes wandered over the room’s furnishings and snagged on the comm panel. Leaning closer, she noticed the frozen image on the screen. “Are you watching viral video programs?”
“Yes. Apparently, hurting yourself by doing ridiculous stunts and playing horrific practical jokes are popular behaviors that people want to share with others. Oh, and pairing up alcohol consumption and nudity. I don’t get it. In my line of work, those are things that people usually try to hide.”
Izzy laughed. “You’re not thinking of trying those things out, are you?”
“Of course not. There’s experimentation and then there’s idiocy.”
“Good. Although those things are popular in the media, it is not representative of how most people normally behave.”
“It’s strange that people are not only unashamed of this stuff, but seem to be proud of it.”
“I agree with you. But it can be fun to watch.”
“I suppose. Entertainment is something I really haven’t considered since I was a kid.”
Izzy’s expression softened. Kassimeigh wondered if Izzy’s empathic sense had kicked in. Izzy Gin had become the premiere reader on Terath by being more than an expert in psychology, sociology, and some other –ologies. All readers were. But Izzy possessed the very rare talent of empathic reading. That special sense made some people uncomfortable, but never Kassimeigh. She considered herself quite fortunate to have such a proficient counselor as her friend.
Instead of offering advice, Izzy stood and began to meander around the living room, studying the furnishings and simple decor. “Arc’s house is nice.”
Kassimeigh considered the home. Outside, it looked like most rural homes. Because the people of Terath valued nature deeply, the most esthetically pleasing homes blended right in. Décor schemes usually reflected that preference and brought a sense of the outdoors into living spaces.
Arc’s home adhered to this practice and offered roomy, uncluttered comfort. Kassimeigh appreciated the overstuffed furniture and the color palette of browns and greens. Beyond the living room was a well-appointed kitchen and a cozy dining room. Two bedrooms and a nice washroom sat at the end of a short hallway. If Kassimeigh had ever furnished a home of her own, she’d have liked it to be just like Arc’s. Well, she might have added a room for weapons and combat training. Otherwise, his home was ideal.
“Yes, it’s a great place. Fortunately he doesn’t mind me staying here.”
“So you two live together now? How’s that going?” Izzy plucked at a leaf of the flowering ivy plant that sat on the table alongside the couch. Kassimeigh did not buy Izzy’s nonchalance. She knew the reader was deeply interested in her answer.
“Surprisingly great. Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising because Arc is so easy to be around. For the first two weeks he cancelled all his engagements but now he’s back to teaching archery on his regular schedule.” Kassimeigh considered Izzy’s particular word choice. “But I don’t know if it’s accurate to say that we’re living together. I’m staying with him. We haven’t discussed the permanence of the arrangement.”
“Do you want to find your own place?”
“Do you think I should? Is living on my own something I should experience?” Izzy was the only person, besides Arc, that Kassimeigh would ever ask to weigh in on her personal choices. Izzy had never steered her wrong in the past.
Izzy blew out a breath and shook her head. “Life’s more than just collecting experiences. That’s a big part of it, yes. But some experiences preclude others and it’s up to you to decide which are best for you.”
That wasn’t terribly helpful. Izzy sounded an awful lot like a shiv just then. Not that Kassimeigh intended to point that out. “And what’s best for Arc, as well.”
Izzy’s eyes lit with amusement. “You’re definitely living like the rest of us now. Worrying over your relationship.”
“So how’s Carston these days?”
Izzy laughed at the turnabout. “Fine, I’m sure. He’s off training the Guard with Will. We don’t talk much when we’re not in the same place, and there’s no comm in Apex, even if we wanted to. We’ll probably meet up in a couple weeks or so.”
“That doesn’t sound like yearning.”
“We care about each other and have fun together. We like it that way.”
“But you don’t seem to miss him. Are you bored of him already?”
“You can’t judge one relationship by another, Kass. You and Arc have one kind, and Carston and I have another. Carston and I have fantastic chemistry. We have a great time together. We like it that way.”
“Permanently?”
Izzy inclined her head slightly, acknowledging Kassimeigh’s point. “Good times and chemistry don’t make for a lifetime commitment. I get what you’re after and yes, our relationship will find its end point eventually.”
“Does he know that?”
“He’s not a deep thinker and doesn’t examine things that closely. That’s one of the things I like about him. But don’t worry, he’ll realize he’s on the same page as soon as he meets the woman that knocks him off his feet.”
Kassimeigh shook her head slightly. “It must be very unique to be in a relationship with an empath.”
“No more so than being in one with a shiv or a freaky-strong manahi. Or someone who’s both.”
“But now I’m not a shiv, and yes, I’m dealing with that, and no, I don’t need to talk about it at this point. When I do, I’ll let you know.”
> Izzy smiled ruefully. “I should have known you’d see that approach coming a mile away. If you ever do need to talk, I’ll be there at a moment’s notice.”
“I know. It means a lot.”
“Good. So now we need to deal with the situation at hand.”
“Which is?”
Izzy indicated Kassimeigh’s clothes with a sweep of her hand. “This. Whatever this look is, it is not becoming. We need to get you outfitted appropriately.”
Kassimeigh considered her pajama-like attire. She hadn’t gone anywhere in the past weeks, and hadn’t given her clothes much thought. Arc hadn’t minded her borrowing his shirts, but Izzy was right. She really needed to tackle the clothing issue.
Kassimeigh sighed. She was not the shopping type. She should have ordered clothes for delivery while she’d had the chance. “I suppose that’s reasonable. I just don’t know what to buy. I tried to research some typical clothing but there are too many options. Arc offered some suggestions, but they were . . . not good.”
She’d say nothing more about his outrageous, though admittedly funny, input.
“Fortunately for you I am a master shopper.” Izzy beamed. “You’re going to look fabulous.”
“This is not fabulous.” Kassimeigh studied the reflection of herself in a skirt and blousy tank top, frowning with chagrin. “I feel ridiculous.”
“It looks great on you. But if you aren’t happy in it, then it’s not for you. Try something else.”
Kassimeigh gratefully returned to the dressing room and tore off the offending garments, dropping them into a heap on the narrow bench. The dressing room clearly wasn’t designed for someone of her height and arm span. Every time she pulled something over her head, she banged her elbows on the walls. Or maybe all dressing rooms were so inhospitable. She had no means of comparison.
She pushed aside several hangers of Izzy’s picks. She wondered if Izzy was just having some fun by dressing her in things she would never consider wearing. Or maybe she simply wanted to offer many options. Either way . . . short skirts were absolutely not happening. How was she supposed to swing a sword in something like that? Ridiculous.
