Six Branches

by Jeanne Allen

  Don’t look back. Don’t look back. The mantra repeats over and over in my head. I’m still trying to pretend Sebastian is worried about being late to class.

  My delusion shatters as Sebastian pulls away from campus, turning toward the small agriculture fields Woodrow cultivates. After a few more twists and turns, Sebastian urges his souped-up Harley through a broken link in the fence around the fields, driving the beast carefully until he is in the middle of the long wheat stalks not yet harvested by the Ag students before rolling to a stop.

  As Sebastian kicks out his stand and hops off, the first thing I notice is that the racket from the other bikes has faded into silence. Sebastian’s need for speed seems to have done the trick. We actually out-maneuvered them. Glancing at Sebastian, I find myself in awe of his Fast and Furious driving.

  My legs feel like jelly as I stumble off the Harley,

  Sebastian speaks rapidly in a strained voice so different from his usual calm monotone. “Whatever happens, you need to stay back and follow my lead. They aren’t Kenós, so there’s a chance they might be friendly, but I’m not taking any chances, okay?”

  I take off my helmet, bobbing my head eagerly even though I still have no clue what’s going on.

  Sebastian stares at me, his eyes hardened to points of ice so sharp they prick at my skin as he searches for… something. Whatever it is, he seems to find it because he soon pushes me behind him and turns to face the path we cut through the field.

  The sound of the other bikes grows louder once more, and sooner than I’d like, we’re joined by three large crotch-rockets in various shades of blue. Their owners wear black leather, with helmets concealing their faces. Watching them disembark their expensive machines, all I can determine is that there are two males and one female, and the female is powerful. Even from a distance, I feel the power coming off the female who walks toward us.

  I’m surprised I’ve never met a Phósopoi before if they all give off this kind of heat.

  Sebastian senses my unease and reaches back to take my hand. “You can sense her power now because the pre-Bond opened you to your Agora senses. Only an Agora can sense the power of other Phósopoi.”

  I take a moment to process what he tells me.

  “She’s powerful,” I warn, keeping my eyes on the three people striding toward us.

  Sebastian gives me the barest of nods, his eyes also glued on our company. “Not even a tenth of what you will be, though.”

  His voice comes out soft and logical. While his eyes turned hard, the serene smile still makes an appearance. A disconcerting combination, and I’m glad I only see a small portion of the effect from my position.

  As the three strangers stop about two feet in front of us, I keep my voice to the barest whisper. “Can’t you tell their intentions?”

  When Sebastian doesn’t respond, I angle my head forward to see him better. His eyes find mine as he offers me another minuscule nod. I can’t decipher what this means. Do they mean us harm? If they meant to kill us, they would have attacked already, but Sebastian is still locked into his rigid, protective stance. I also doubt this is a friendly social call.

  Besides, who chases someone down just to say hello? I sigh, frustrated at my own ignorance. When this is over, I’ll lock Jackson in a room until he agrees to spill all the secrets, I silently vow. My mind wanders for a moment over other reasons I’d like to be locked in a room with Jackson. I shake my head, annoyed. Now is not the time to play the lusty teen.

  The group pull off their helmets, and I can hear my own gasp as I take in the sight in front of me.

  The woman who stands in front of us is stunning. Long, golden curls tumble out of her helmet like a freaking Pantene commercial, which is totally unfair since my own helmet probably left my hair sticking out in a million directions. Her eyes are a unique shade of turquoise. It’s a hard beauty, though, like a diamond, no warmth in her gaze as she assesses us.

  The two men with her are just as exquisite. The one on the right is tan and blond. His golden skin and golden hair set off bright-green eyes, which give off a playful air as his gaze roams over Sebastian and then me. He reminds me of Lucas. I’d bet anything he’d share that same charming smile, given the chance.

  The other man is not so charming. He’s tall like his companion but with broader shoulders. Corded muscles trace his bare forearms and a plain black tee strains over his considerable bulk. His eyes are oak-tree brown and menacing. The scar that lines his cheek pulls downward as he scowls at Sebastian, his eyes darkening.

  I step closer to my Kladí, breathing into his shoulder. What little courage I had flees at the sight of those violent eyes. I know what kind of men come with eyes like those. Sebastian caresses the hand that clutches at his side, soothing my nervous energy. Since when am I such a coward?

  Since I found out there are mutants out there with superpowers, the bitter voice replies from the back of my mind.

  “Region and name, Kladí,” the woman barks. Her harsh tone and cold eyes ruin the delicate beauty of her features.

  Sebastian sighs and throws back his shoulders, staring the rude woman down. “Sebastian Taylor, Region Five.”

  The woman’s eyes narrow, and even the green-eyed Lucas look-alike grows grim at Sebastian’s answer.

  “We have no notice of you in this territory. Who gave you permission to enter?” she continues, her voice growing more authoritative.

  Sebastian’s muscles tighten even more. I go to step back to give him space if the encounter turns violent, but I think better of it, realizing how cowardly it would be to step away now. I shuffle back towards my Kladí, determined to help in any way possible.

  Sebastian reaches back to stop me, his hand tight on my forearm, in a gesture that says, Stay behind me.

  I do what he wants, but peek around to watch the faces of the other Kladí. Again, I sense something from our new companions. First, they’re all Kladí. I also sense they’re somehow… different from my guys. Even though they’ve come into their Gift and must have Bonded with their Agora, what I sense from them isn’t as powerful up close as it seemed from far away. Not even the female is as powerful as I thought. I have a strong feeling my boys are much more powerful even in their unBonded form.

  “Our captain asked you a question, Kladí,” the big guy spits out, his voice carrying an undercurrent of threat.

  “I, and my brother Kladí, received permission from High King Ahmad to Free-Travel amongst the Regions for the purpose of searching out our Agora.”

  The woman’s eyes widen for a second, settling on me before flicking back to Sebastian. “You expect me to believe High King Ahmad cared enough about your pathetic little Agora to grant you Free Passage?”

  Her tone reeks of derision, and a hot rush of indignation and anger replace the cloud of fear that had me frozen me since their arrival. It’s not the way she dismissed me that catches my ire but the way she talked down to my Kladí. My Kladí.

  After my first time at the guys’ house, I researched what definitions I could find. Agora means center in ancient Greek. Kladí is the branch. The Agora, me, is the center of the group, the Omás. And here I am cowering behind my Kladí, letting some arrogant Phósopoi disrespect him in front of me. Not today, beeznitch.

  I let my anger bolster my returning courage and strengthen my spine with false confidence. Stepping away from Sebastian, I evade the hand he snakes out to draw me back. “Are you calling my Kladí a liar?”

  “Oh, she speaks. She’s kinda cute, too. Too bad you won’t last long,” Golden Boy mocks. His green eyes dance like Lucas’s, but they lack his warmth and kindness. The two men may share a playful nature, but without kindness, this one lets his personality twist him into a bully.

  The one they called captain laughs bitterly. “I’m not calling him anything, sweetie. He is a liar. And not a very good one.”

  Her disdain changes the simple words into something threatening. These people are not our friends.
/>   “As much as I’d like to do the honors myself and drain her, we are under orders to turn any unknowns over to King Richard. He has his own methods for dealing with border-hoppers, especially those from his own region.” She says the last part with such glee it leaves no doubt these methods will be unpleasant.

  I don’t know what a border-hopper is, though I can guess, but I believe Sebastian when he said he has permission to be here. I hope this King Richard is more willing to listen than his subjects.

  Sebastian doesn’t show any surprise at all by the woman’s orders, his face remaining stoic. I belatedly realize he told me he could sense their intentions. He knew from the moment they arrived that they meant to take us to their king.

  I resist the urge to smack myself in the forehead. Of course, he knew. He also tried to keep me behind him, out of sight and less likely to provoke the Kladí. What kind of Agora am I if I can’t even piece together such a simple plan? I suck. I’m kind of glad we skipped Jackson’s class right now, because I don’t deserve that 4.0.

  As if summoned by my inner berating, Jackson appears, walking out of the tall stalks that surround our small clearing. His honey-brown hair is windswept and hangs over his eyes, but the rest of him is perfectly put together in his professor gear of chinos and a crisp button-up.

  I frown, puzzled at his sudden appearance. Even if he somehow learned of our encounter, his class is all the way at the other end of campus.

  Oh, duh. I roll my eyes, definitely not using my brain to its full potential today. Jackson’s Gift is speed. He ran here, hence the windswept hair. No idea how the rest of him remained unruffled, but I brush off my curiosity to focus on how glad I am he came.

  He walks toward us with the grace and elegance I admired that first day in his class, which seems like a millennium ago. As soon as he reaches us, he takes my hand. Offering me a smile, his forest eyes melt away some of my anxiety. For whatever reason, I know he’ll make things okay. He has that effect on me.

  I’m beginning to feel safe and comfortable with all the guys, but Jackson is different. Maybe because I named him the leader of our Omás in my head, or maybe it’s his quiet authority that I respond to. Whatever the reason, I’m able to relax for the first time since I heard the sounds of our pursuers.

  Jackson’s smile widens as the tension eases from my body. His eyes linger on my face for a few more seconds before he turns back to the intruders. His entire demeanor changes as he faces them. His back straightens, his face becomes a blank mask, and all emotion leaks from his eyes until they turn a dull green I’m not sure I like.

  My heart aches for Jackson. I know instinctively this ‘mask’ is too easily put on to be a first for him. Whatever his past, for some reason, he needed to hide his emotions, and hide them often.

  The woman gasps when Jackson steps forward. The faces of all three attacking Phósopoi switch from arrogant disdain to a disturbing mixture of awe blended with sheer terror. The aggressive one whose violent eyes intimidated me before now steps back, ready to bolt. The change in the trio is so drastic it’s almost comical. If I weren’t utterly confused, I’d be smirking at their discomfort. Lucas is one hundred percent a bad influence.

  Clenching her shaking hands at her sides, their leader finds her voice. “P-Prince Jackson! Wha—What are you doing here?”

  Jackson responds but the ringing in my head blocks out his words. Prince? I knew the guys kept secrets, but a prince? I mean, then there’s the fact I didn’t even know the Phósopoi operated under a monarchy. No, make that monarchies. Two different kings were mentioned and one was given the title of High King. Then there’s the fact that Region Five was mentioned as King Richard’s. So, there must be at least four other monarchs.

  I’m still pondering the implications of this when my ears pick up on the conversation going on around me.

  “As I said. We will not be leaving with you, and we will not be needing your assistance.” The last words Jackson spits out like they’re dirty, obviously less than impressed with the three who cower under his disapproval.

  He’s so… princely. I eye the version of Jackson in front of me, unsure I like Prince Jackson but try to keep an open mind. He might be acting a part to intimidate the others into leaving us alone.

  They don’t listen.

  “Your Highness, excuse my insolence, but you are far from Region Two and without your knights. You are not yet Mature—”

  “I am perfectly able to defend myself and my Agora,” Jackson interrupts.

  It seems the enemy changed tactics completely.

  When the captain makes like she’s going to interrupt again, Jackson continues. “If it puts you at ease, I have already sent for backup. My Bond-brother is Matured and on his way here. His name is Jin—perhaps you’ve heard of him? They call him the Assassin.”

  All three Phósopoi turn white as cherub-feathers at the mention of our Omás member, the one I haven’t met yet. I’m pretty sure Jin is still a few days away from coming to Minnesota, but Jackson makes it sound as if he’s traveling here right now rather than arranging for the journey. Clever.

  I side-eye Jackson, who gives me a quick wink. He’s playing them. Prince Jackson is devious. I might be warming up to this side of my Kladí.

  The mention of my apparently deadly sixth Kladí does the trick because the opposing Phósopoi take their leave. They scramble to their bikes and ride away in a hasty retreat.

  The sudden absence of threat gives me emotional whiplash. I’m also left with about a thousand more questions. Hello… monarchs? Of all the government structures available to a secret race of human mutants, they go with monarchy? And not one, but several?

  Then there’s my growing suspicion my Kladí, Jin, is a dangerous man. Not sure how to feel about that realization, I push away my concern, determined not to pass judgment until I meet the man.

  Besides, I have bigger problems to address. Like the fact my professor, who is also my housemate, and, I guess, my soulmate, is a mother-fluffing prince.

  Why the chicken-and-rice did nobody tell me?

  I don’t get answers right away. As soon as the trio of doom leaves with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs, Jackson bends down and throws me on his back. I barely blink before he starts running. Hastily, I latch my arms around his neck as the wind whips through my spider-silk hair while the rest of me remains unruffled.

  Jackson barely goes at a jogging pace, but I don’t like the world blurring past us, so, I shut my eyes and press my head into the crook between his neck and shoulder. Jackson shudders at the contact but doesn’t say anything.

  After a few more minutes of darkness, Jackson’s hands tug my arms out of their death grip. My eyes crack open, and I slide down his back. Guilt worms at me when I notice the marks my desperate hold made.

  Jackson doesn’t comment; he begins walking away. In front of us is the familiar, cheery yellow of the Better Homes bachelor pad. He really did run all the way from campus.

  The Speed Gift is trippy.

  I shake my head before I go off on a thought-tangent about the irony of that sentence.

  “Jackson,” I call softly, still rooted in the front yard where he dumped me.

  Jackson’s shoulders stiffen. He stops and turns around. A small whimper escapes as I stare into the blank eyes of my soulmate. He still wears his prince mask, and it bothers me.

  But I stopped him for other reasons.

  “Sebastian.” My voice sounds a little desperate, my emotions thickening the word, and I blink back the pressure behind my eyes.

  Trying to be strong and forcing myself into denial is no longer working. The thought of leaving Sebastian alone in the field, even though the gruesome threesome had left, finally breaks my resolve.

  The mask slips, and Jackson’s eyes warm to the deep pine-tree color I love. “He’ll be fine; it was you they wanted.”

  Flickers of emotion flash through those deep eyes, but they come and go before I can identify them.
/>
  “No, they didn’t want me at all. You didn’t hear her. She called me pathetic.” Okay, maybe I’m more bitter about that than I thought.

  Jackson sighs and closes his eyes. I get the sense he’s not used to explaining himself often. How prince-like. Now that I know his secret, I’m starting to recognize the parts of his personality that seem a byproduct of his apparent royal upbringing.

  “She was lying,” he says simply, reaching out to grab my hand.

  Unconsciously, I let him but grind my feet into the ground when he tries to tug me toward the door. “What do you mean?”

  Locking Jackson in a room is sounding more and more appealing. And not because of the strong urge to wrap my arms around him again. The man hides too many secrets. They all do.

  “You are very powerful, Rose, and you have no training on how to hide that power—something we will remedy immediately. A Knight can sense that power as clearly as an Agora if it’s strong enough. In the last few centuries, fewer and fewer Agora are born to us, especially ones as powerful as you. You’re a rare discovery. She was trying to find a reason to send you to Richard. He would have rewarded her handsomely.”

  Too many things are wrong with this new information, but I stick to what I know. “How do you know? You claim I’m powerful, but I don’t—”

  “Because I’m your Kladí. I know all there is to know about you.” He seems so sure of the fact and mildly offended.

  Indignation bleeds into my skin and heats my cheeks, which I’m sure are colored as cherry red as they were when we first met. He does not know me. Despite being soulmates, we still met less than a week ago. They might have grown up expecting this, but I grew up believing myself human and expecting human things, like years of dating one man before even considering forever with him.

  One week is a ludicrously short amount of time to feel the way I do about these men. The more I ponder my situation, the more panicked I get, so I stop that train of thought.

  Jackson tugs me toward the house again. “Let’s go inside. The others are waiting. Lyle is probably having one of his fits.”