Six Branches

by Jeanne Allen

  Once inside, we head to the living room, where several voices drift through the open door. As soon as we enter, a blur of tiny arms and long chestnut hair attacks me.

  “Uh… hi, Daisy,” I squeak out, trying to breathe through the vice she has me in. I remember her from the lunch table the first day I met the twins. Why she is here in their house, I have no clue. Yet another indication we barely know each other. The voice in the back of my head prods.

  Frowning, I struggle to turn and look at where Lucas and Lyle sit on the couch, but Lucas smirks and Lyle raises a single eyebrow. Helpful. With great effort, I detangle myself from Daisy. Her soft blue eyes, which grow round with unshed tears, latch onto mine.

  “Kira is such a bitch,” she declares succinctly.

  I blink at Daisy. Who?

  Jackson chuckles and leads me over to the couch, sitting us on the ‘L’ part kitty-corner to the twins. Daisy trots behind us and settles in next to Lyle. She snuggles into the couch, her thin arm looking even tinier when pushed up against Lyle’s.

  I don’t even compute what Jackson says next. I’m too busy planning the murder of this girl who I liked until five seconds ago when she brushed her arm all up on my Kladí. In the back of my head, some logical part of me screams this irrational and unfounded jealousy. That voice is drowned out as I narrow my eyes at Lyle, who leans in to the small demon-spawn.

  The war drum in my chest beats strong and fast.

  Before I can launch into battle, Sebastian walks in and remarks in his usual placid tone, “Daisy, you better explain who you are, and quick. Rose is about to detach your arm from its socket.”

  He glides over and sits next to Lucas who watches me like one might watch a wild animal gearing up to attack. The muffled, logical part of me realizes he can sense my emotions, but I ignore him in favor of my prey.

  She speaks as she jumps away from Lyle to the other end of the couch. “Rose, you’ve probably realized, but I’m also a Phósopoi, a Kladí like your guys. But unlike them, none of my sister-Kladí have Awakened yet. All I have to go on is the glimpse I had of my Agora when I Awakened. She has the most amazing green eyes I’ve ever seen—”

  She stops herself when she realizes she’s rambling, but her words do the trick. As quickly as it came, my crazy-lady jealousy dissipates. I’m back to Rose-the-Tomato. Even my hands turn red as I twist them in front of me, shifting farther back into the couch.

  Jackson raises his brow at my attempt to shrink into myself and reaches out to rub my back. Like a pampered kitten, I succumb to his hand lightly rubbing circles on my upper-back, calming me enough to face Daisy.

  “I thought Omás were a female Agora with male Kladí or vice-versa?” I cringe at the rude question. I’m batting ten for ten today with my social graces.

  Thankfully, Daisy doesn’t take offense, and instead, she smiles. “No, all humans love differently. Phósopoi are the same.”

  I nod, catching her meaning.

  Jackson continues to rub lazy circles on my back. He doesn’t seem to notice he’s even doing it anymore. As I lean into the touch, the whole room disappears, and I savor Jackson’s fingers casually running up and down my back. It’s not sexual, but familiar, like he’s rubbed my back this way for years, decades. If someone told me a week ago I would not only let a man touch me, but enjoy it, I would have asked them to up the dosage on their medication.

  Jackson’s eyes flick to me, and he offers me a secretive smile I bask in before we both turn our attention back to the conversation at hand.

  I remember Daisy introducing a handsome man with a dyed blue faux-hawk as her boyfriend when we met at the lunch table. “But I thought you were dating the captain.”

  Daisy grins. “Andrew is Phósopi, too. He doesn’t have an Agora and isn’t ready to be a knight yet. We both got tired of fending off unwanted attention from the masses, so we started dating.” She punctuates the last word with air quotes.

  I mirror her grin. My earlier irrational behavior aside, I like Daisy. I’m sad she has to wait around for her Agora, though. I want her to be happy.

  Like you’re happy? I ignore the whispering voice in my head again. I’m not ready to examine my own happiness or the cause of it. Not yet.

  I decide to tackle a different line of questioning. “Why did I almost attack Daisy? That’s not like me. I’m—I mean, I’m not usually—”

  So bold, I almost say, but I don’t know if I want to appear weak around my Kladí. They don’t seem like the type of men to fall for girls like me. Even though we’re destined for each other, or whatever, a big part of me still can’t fathom how I’ll measure up to these guys.

  Especially a prince, a bitter voice adds before I silence it. Not going to even delve into that particular Pandora’s box. Not right now.

  “It’s the pre-Bond,” Sebastian explains. “Until you can Bond with your missing two Kladí, you will feel a certain level of… protectiveness over us. It’s totally natural and expected. You don’t need to be embarrassed; we knew it would happen with Forrest and Jin still in New York.”

  He speaks so calmly, it becomes impossible to hold onto my shame. But in the absence of embarrassment, confusion takes its place. I don’t like being ignorant, especially if it pertains to my life.

  Determined to discover as much as possible now, I continue my investigation. “Why wait? Can’t you go find your Agora now? Jackson found me.”

  Daisy opens her mouth to answer, but Lyle cuts in. “We waited two years to find you. Typically, Kladí lucky enough to have an Agora don’t know the location of him or her until the last bond-brother or sister Awakens, and even then, it can take a while for the Agora to show. We knew you would be at Woodrow two years ago.”

  “But I transferred in this semester.”

  “Exactly. We waited two years, and we would have waited longer if we had to.”

  “Wow.” I underestimated how serious this stuff is.

  Sure, soulmate sounds serious, but it’s still hard to comprehend without physical evidence. Evidence like the guys’ willingness to wait indefinitely at Woodrow for me to arrive.

  “Two years is nothing. Usually, Kladí wait longer for the members of their Omás, and much longer for their Agora,” Daisy interjects.

  “What do you mean by much longer?” I offer up my own air quotes.

  Lyle, Sebastian, and Lucas all grow rigid and narrow their eyes at Daisy. Jackson’s hand on my back stills, and he turns to shoot her what I’m sure is an equally exasperated look.

  She rolls her eyes, and I try not to giggle. “She’s going to find out eventually.”

  “Find out what?” I press.

  Now is not the time to keep things from me. I have a right to know whatever it is, especially if it pertains to my life. Daisy eyes the boys, who nail her with identical don’t you dare glares.

  She offers me an apologetic smile, raising her hands in defeat, then gestures vaguely at the trio a la glare-at-Daisy. “Sorry, not for me to say.”

  I let out a frustrated sigh and stare up at the ceiling. More secrets. I feel, rather than see, the guys turn their attention to me. When I bring my head down, they’re the picture of sheepish apology.

  Well, Lyle and Lucas are.

  Sebastian has his usual quiet, wise man thing going on. “Rose, we—”

  I hold up my hand to cut him off. “I know what you’re going to say, Sebastian. You will tell me what you can. I trust you to have a good reason for keeping things from me, but it’s still frustrating.”

  My sharp tone startles me, but I’m at the end of my rope with this mystery business, and it’s making me less than kind. I mean, this is my life we’re talking about, not answers to next week’s pop quiz. I glare at the boys who surround me but can’t hold the scowl for long. The more I peruse my men, the more my annoyance turns to appreciation. Like I’m a magnet drawn to the opposing charge, my eyes drag over my Kladí: the Charming Goblin, the Stoic Mother Hen, the Wise Man Alpha, and Professor Prince.r />
  The strings of the pre-Bond urge me to dig deeper, to go past the hot-as-sin exteriors to the men underneath. Even with all of their annoying human faults and quirks, like keeping secrets, I’m still drawn to these men on a level I can’t quite grasp yet. All I know is our burgeoning connection has begun to slowly eradicate my many doubts and insecurities but not completely.

  I have more issues than can be dealt with in one day, even with super-mutant soulmates, but I’ve heard enough information to quell some of my earlier panic so I’m able to relax somewhat. Silence reigns supreme as I settle back into the couch, refusing to think about anything outside my own contemplation.

  Our pre-Bond strings hum with contentment, and I sense the same emotion mirrored in the eyes of my men.

  Daisy picks up on our little moment and smiles at me wanly, a flash of deep longing running through those clear blue eyes. There are no words for the tumultuous emotions running through the pre-Bond and into my skin, seeking to seep into my very essence.

  I speak three languages and still have no words.

  I look up at Jackson, who seems as caught up in the moment as I am. He gives me a soft smile and slides his hand to palm my hip, drawing me into his arms. He places a kiss on top of my head, but instead of freezing up like I did this morning, I lean into the embrace, savoring the sweet gesture.

  My eyes meet Daisy’s, drawn into the painful longing whispering across her carefully closed-off expression. I want to offer her some comfort but have nothing to say. Offering a prayer to whatever god the Phósopoi worship, I sincerely hope Daisy finds her soulmate as quickly as mine found me. If two years is nothing, I dread how many years Daisy might wait.

  She seems to understand my silent message because she offers me a weak smile, and after a beat, shakes herself. Her expression gradually brightens to resemble the light-hearted friend I met at lunch, which seems like ages ago.

  With our emotions under control, the questions overcrowd my thoughts once more. I hastily throw out the most recent one. “Who’s Kira?”

  Daisy’s eyes darken again, and she frowns. “My cousin, unfortunately. I’m so sorry about what happened today.”

  What happened? Then it clicks. Kira must be the name of the blond Kladí. The one who called me pathetic. Okay, definitely still bitter about that.

  “Not your fault.” I struggle a moment but eventually succeed at pasting on what I hope is a warm smile.

  My mind races with a replay of what happened earlier. Was it only this morning? I shudder at how easily we could have been taken. Or drained. Whatever that means.

  Daisy huffs. “She wasn’t always a raging bitch. She changed when she got accepted as a Captain of King Richard’s Warrior-division Knights.”

  The mention of King Richard reminds me of something. “You’re a prince!”

  I move away from Jackson to turn and point an accusing finger at his chest.

  Behind me, a muffled chuckle comes from Sebastian, and a loud burst of laughter escapes Lucas.

  Lyle, of course, remains silent.

  As does Jackson, though his neck grows a rather telltale shade of pink. I stifle a giggle of my own. Mr. Cool and Collected Professor is shy about his title. He looks so awkward I sort of feel bad about my outburst.

  I try to distract him and the peanut gallery by asking another of my thousand and one questions. “Sebastian mentioned this is Region Five, and you’re a prince. What does that mean?”

  My plan works. Jackson settles back into his usual aura of quiet authority and answers my question. “You once asked what sort of government our people adhere to. As you may have gathered by now, we have hereditary monarchies. The human countries are split up into different regions. Phósopoi maintain an outward appearance of complying with human authority, but in reality, we answer only to our own rulers. Most of us are too powerful to be concerned with the human governments.”

  I ponder his answer. I’m beginning to get the idea the Phósopoi are not a small subgroup operating within the established world cultures but rather, an entire people-group operating outside cultural norms and provincial regulations.

  There must be more Phósopoi than I thought. “How many regions are there?”

  “Thirteen, but one is for the city of Phóspolis. So, really, twelve.”

  Definitely more Phósopoi than I thought. How do they manage to stay hidden for so long?

  I bury the question. Too many other things occupy my mind. “Where’s Region Two?”

  While I’m insanely curious about Jackson’s life as a prince, I worry he’ll shutdown if I press too hard.

  “Canada.”

  Sure enough, he offers no other insight.

  “It’s the biggest and most important region,” Sebastian elaborates.

  My nose wrinkles as I try to process all this new information. “There aren’t that many people in Canada, and it’s not the biggest country size-wise, either. Shouldn’t China be the largest? Unless—”

  I’m about to say unless there’s no Phósopoi in China, but Daisy cuts me off. “Not many humans. Canada boasts the highest concentration of Phósopoi, and many of our most powerful Omás come from Region Two. Phóspolis is also in Canada. Even though it’s its own region, Queen Jacqueline still has some sway.”

  Her eyes twinkle as she watches Jackson’s neck grow progressively redder. When he stiffens at the mention of his mother’s name, her eyes practically ooze mirth.

  She’s taking way too much pleasure at my Kladí’s discomfort. I shoot her a warning glare and clear my throat. But I let it go when Lucas, Sebastian, and even Lyle show equal signs of amusement.

  I pat Jackson’s hand and try to direct the attention away from him. “What’s a border-hopper?”

  My Ask-Another-Question-Tactic works again as Daisy jumps at the bait. “We have three major laws and all the monarchs meet every four years to form the Council. If a monarch breaks one of the three laws, the accusation can be brought to the Council by another monarch. The Council votes on the issue with the High King or Queen passing judgment.”

  She pauses to take a breath, and I nod in understanding.

  “Other than that, each region runs autonomously,” she continues. “Most of the monarchs have fairly different ways of controlling their people. So, to avoid all the Phósopoi moving to the region of the monarch we agree with and Bonding with them, it’s illegal for a non-Royal to cross into another region without permission. Some monarchs, like the ruler of Region Five, which you know as the United States, even limit travel within their region.”

  “Bond? I thought only Agoras Bond with Kladí?”

  Daisy’s eyes lose a bit of their glimmer at my question.

  Sebastian takes over and answers when she remains quiet. “Not all Kladí are born with an Agora. In fact, most aren’t, though we don’t know until we Awaken. Most Phósopoi end up being Agora-less Kladí like Kira and her friends.”

  My eyes widen. I didn’t think it was possible to have a Kladí without an Agora. Doesn’t the Agora help their Kladí regulate their power?

  Sebastian nods at me. “I see by your expression you’ve caught on to why this is a problem. In the old days, when all the Kladí had an Agora, there was no problem. But nowadays, Kladí will die from their own Gift if they don’t Bond before age twenty-five, unless they’re destined for an Agora. This is why Agora-less Kladí need to enter into a contract-Bond with a Royal. Royal Agora have the ability to Bind Kladí to them for a certain period of time, a few years or centuries, depending on the contract. The Bound Kladí gets the benefit of a longer life, but they are at the mercy of their Royal.”

  At the barrage of information, an ache forms at the base of my neck. This is all too much; it seems too unreal. I’m about to call it quits when Daisy continues the TedTalk.

  “Anyway, back to your original question.” She eyes me and I nod to show I remember. “The Phósopoi who travel without permission are called border-hoppers, and if one is caught, they�
��re at the mercy of that region’s ruler.”

  This has been a night of revelations. Somehow though, all of this new information seems to fit. It might be my inner Scholar persona, but it seems logical, expected even. I decide to gather one more piece to the puzzle before I stop and hide away to process the overload piling up in my head. “What does High King mean?”

  I’m guessing it’s more than simply a ruler of one of the regions.

  This time, Jackson answers. The blush fades from his neck. As adorable as it was to watch, he recovered from his earlier embarrassment. His voice comes out strong. “The monarch of Region Thirteen is the only one who is chosen, not born into the title. When the old High King or Queen dies or cedes the throne, the remaining twelve vote on his or her replacement. The High King or Queen can be one of the current twelve, who would then pass their crown to their heir, or another Agora. It’s the only way a non-Royal can gain power, to be voted in as monarch of Region Thirteen.”

  The governmental structure of the Phósopoi amazes me. They managed to blend monarchy, oligarchy, and diplomacy into one ruling system. It’s rather impressive. My scholar brain could probably continue the interrogation for another few hours and still come up with more questions. I’m curious about knights, King Richard, territories, and why Jackson keeps blushing, but I’m too overloaded with today’s events and revelations to ferret one question out of the pile.

  Daisy must notice my discomfort because she jumps off the couch, grabs my hand, and tugs me toward the door.

  The immediate reaction of my Kladí is almost comical. All four jump up and reach out to grab me back from my kidnapper. They pause their rescue mission when I stop Daisy by the door, turning us back to face my knights in shining armor.

  The sight of all four of my guys glaring at my hand linked with Daisy’s is oddly endearing. I’m also relieved I’m not the only one with the crazy jealousy problems.

  Daisy notices, too. She sighs and rolls her eyes, but releases my hand. “Oh, my God. This is going to get annoying. If it’s not one way, it’s the other. I swear I’m never touching any of you ever again.”