Under The Willow Root

“The mind is like an iceberg; it floats with one-seventh of its bulk above water.”--Sigmund Freud

“Look at you!” Sadra cries when she sees me several days later. She spins me around in a circle. “I wish I could have come sooner. You look…”

“Unnoticeable?” I suggest hopefully.

“No, definitely noticeable,” Sadra says, and lowers her voice. “But nothing like the thrall called Blue. Ismeni could look right at you and have no idea.”

“That’s good,” I say with a sigh of relief. “That’s really good.”

“You may congratulate me,” Sadra declares. “I have taken a beetle and turned her into a hummingbird.”

I roll my eyes. “Congratulations.”

“You need to be more excited about this,” Sadra tells me sternly. “You look entirely unrecognizable--and ravishingly beautiful, if you’ll allow me to reiterate that point. Our biggest worry is going to be fending off boys.”

“Really?” I say shyly, peeking at myself in the mirror.

I like what I see. Instead of muted grays and blues, my dress is a vibrant plum embroidered with butterflies and flowers of a deeper shade. It’s nothing fancy by the city’s standards--definitely a far cry from most of Ismeni’s wardrobe--but it’s something a real girl would wear. Something that’s flattering to me, not to my owner.

“The hair will take some getting used to,” I say, fingering the end of a curl.

“Dark hair is prettier on you,” Sadra admits. “But some sacrifices must be made.”

“It’s such a hardship,” I say with a grin. “I don’t know how I’ll manage.”

“You’ll muddle through,” Sadra says. She throws herself on the bed. “What are your thoughts on staying with the Temple?”

“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “I would love it here, I’m sure, but can I afford to make that kind of commitment right now? There’s still our friends on the Terrace to worry about and my goals haven’t changed. I need to try to go home. Taking a legally-binding vow to serve the Temple for twenty years doesn’t seem like the best way to make that happen.”

“But you’d be protected, you’d have a comfortable place to live, a bit of money...it’s a good life,” Sadra reminds me. “Not to mention you’d have the time and freedom you need to figure out how to get home. To my mind, that seems like the more pressing issue anyway.”

“I know,” I sigh. “But I’m hoping it won’t take twenty years. And if that’s the case, I’ll end up breaking my vow--and the law--which will only complicate things.”

“Well...have you thought that maybe this could be your home?” Sadra asks softly, fiddling with the blanket next to her.

“I haven’t,” I tell her. “Not for real. I have responsibilities at home and friends I left behind who don’t know what’s happened to me.”

“Or people who have since come to terms with their loss,” Sadra points out. “It’s been more than a year. You told me yourself, you don’t know what you’d be going back to.”

“I don’t know,” I acknowledge. “But these dreams I’ve been having...it doesn’t seem like a year has gone by. Time might pass differently there--like in Narnia. Or are we in Narnia?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nevermind,” I say. “The point is, I’m not ready to give up on going home. Not yet.”

“Of course not,” Sadra says with a sigh. “I’m just being a little selfish. I’m going to miss you when you go, that’s all.”

“Oh,” I say, blinking stupidly. I frown. “I hadn’t thought about it like that...leaving you behind. That doesn’t feel right, either.”

“So let’s not think about it,” Sadra says. “It’s a long way off still. Let’s go talk to Mother Wenla about staying with the Temple. Maybe there’s another option.”

I’m a little nervous about telling Mother Wenla that I can’t join the Temple as an initiate, but she’s very understanding about the whole thing. I get the feeling that she suspects “the whole thing” isn’t anywhere near the whole thing, but she doesn’t press. She just tells me to continue to sit in on whatever classes I like while she considers the situation.

“That was very diplomatic,” I remark as we leave Mother Wenla’s study. “Do you think she can actually help, or is she just letting me stay here for a little longer without making me feel like a beggar?”

“Oh, no,” Sadra assures me. “If she knew she couldn’t help, she would have said so.”

“But what can she do?” I worry. “And what am I going to do if I can’t stay here? I’ll have to find a job somehow and a place to live---”

“Sasha, calm down,” Sadra says. “There’s no point in worrying about it just this second.”

“But--”

“Even if Mother Wenla doesn’t come up with anything, she’s not going to just throw you out with nowhere to go,” Sadra says reasonably. “You’ll have time to worry about it later. Just relax--”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” I burst out.

I find I’m on the verge of tears. It makes me feel stupid, which makes me even more tearful. Sadra stares at me like I’ve just grown a second head. I take a deep breath and force myself to meet her eyes.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“It’s alright,” Sadra says. “I didn’t mean to boss you. We can go ask around the market and see who’s looking for help if you want.”

“No, you’re right,” I say with a sigh. “We should wait and find out what Mother Wenla has to say. I just don’t like not knowing what to do.”

“Probably because you’ve had someone telling you what to do for so long,” Sadra points out. “You’ll get used to it. In the meantime, I am going to enjoy my day off and I urge you to join me in enjoying my day off.”

“I do want to enjoy something,” I sigh. “What would you suggest?”

“Have you danced yet today? Good. I would suggest, then, that we go to the bakery for cream rolls,” Sadra replies. “And then I would suggest that we sell this hideous chunky necklace Orean bought me and buy something smaller and prettier for each of us.”

“Can I add a suggestion?” I ask, smiling now.

“If we both suggest, then there’s no one to receive and heed the suggestion, but yes.” Sadra links my arm through hers and leads me away. “What would you like to add?”

“Cream rolls with jam?”

“Sasha!” Sadra cries. “Would I let you eat a cream roll without jam? You hurt me.”

At the bakery, Sadra orders a ridiculous amount of extra jam and heaps it on my cream roll as a joke, but the joke’s on her--I love it. I’ve never tasted anything better. I scarf it down and lick the jam from my fingers as we make our way through the city.

I’ve been waiting for another outing for days. I was too afraid to leave the Temple without Sadra, though Alesa invited me to go for a walk with her and her friends and one of the younger teachers asked me if I wanted to visit the baths with her. I’ve been using the Temple’s private baths, which are just as good and much less crowded.

Still, now that Sadra is with me, I enjoy the bustle and the way we can’t turn a corner without someone stopping to chat. Many of them, I find out, are strangers. Everyone is so kind and friendly and I can’t believe I was cheated of all of it for so long. The complete disconnect between how citizens treat each other and how they treat their slaves is chilling. They really don’t know, I marvel.

I step out of the way of a litter born by thralls and realize with a guilty pang that I’m no better. It’s been barely a week since I escaped, and I’ve already started to look right through the scores of thralls I come across in the course of each day: the old woman washing dishes in the Temple’s kitchen, the skinny men and boys sweeping the City streets, the young girls replacing bowls of soap and perfume at the baths...everywhere I go, thralls go about their business in mindless, bland silence, ignored by everyone around them. Including me.

I shake off the thought. What can I do for them? Nothing. I barely escaped with my life, and my only safety lies in complete conformity. I have to disappear into the City; I can’t be seen to take any more interest in thralls than anyone else would. Of course such a rationale makes perfect sense, but it makes me feel dirty. I know it’s not strategy or self-preservation that kept me from looking. It was simple thoughtlessness.

“In here,” Sadra says, distracting me from my uncomfortable self-reflection. “I know the jeweler, and he’ll treat us fairly.”

Sadra sells her necklace for what she tells me is a very good price. The jeweler did seem very impressed, but I think Sadra was right--it was a really ugly necklace. Sadra gives me half of the coins in a little purse and shows me how to secure it within a little pocket in my dress that I never noticed before.

“But I don’t know how the money works,” I protest.

“Well, when you see something you like, you take some out and--”

“Very funny,” I say sourly. “I mean I don’t know what’s a good price or how many silver coins make an opal one or how many opals make a gold or anything.”

“You’ll learn by doing,” Sadra insists. “I’ll help. Come on, there’s a jewelry store a few streets over.”

“We’re in a jewelry store now,” I protest.

“Yes, but the proprietor of this jewelry store knows exactly how much money we have,” Sadra explains, winking at her friend the jeweler. “We’ll get nowhere with him.”

We don’t get anywhere in the next store, either, or the next. I don’t mind, though. I like seeing all the pretty things and knowing that I could get something if I wanted to. Suddenly I remember strolling around the mall with Melanie and Tara and feel a lump rise in my throat. I wonder for the thousandth time what they’re doing and what they think has happened to me. As always, I carefully avoid trying to figure out what actually has happened to me.

In the fourth store, Sadra barely glances around before shaking her head and turning to leave. Rolling my eyes, I move to follow and then whip my head around. There, hanging on a little hook along with several other necklaces and bracelets, is my grandmother’s moonstone pendant. The chain is different, but I would know it anywhere. I reach out and lift it from its hook with trembling fingers.

“How much for this one?” I ask the shop owner.

“Seven gold, my sweet,” she tells me with a smile. “And what a good choice! That will look just precious on you.”

“Oh, you found something?” Sadra asks, returning to my side. She peers into my hand. “It’s a little plain. I’m sure we can find something better.”

“No,” I say sharply. “I want this one.”

“You deserve something prettier,” Sadra says, looking at me meaningfully. “Especially for seven gold pieces--that’s absurd.”

“I’ll take it,” I tell the owner.

“You only have four gold,” Sadra reminds me.

“Well, let me borrow three,” I say stubbornly.

“Sasha, we only have eight between us,” Sadra hisses. “There are other stores--”

“Please,” I say desperately. “It was my grandmother’s.”

Both of them stare at me.

“What?” Sadra asks, nonplussed.

“When I was...when that thing happened,” I say, stumbling over my words. “They took it from me. They must have sold it here in the City.”

Sadra sighs and fishes for her purse. “Alright.”

I turn to the shopkeeper, the necklace clutched in my fist. She smiles widely and shakes her head as Sadra offers her the coins.

“That will be eight gold,” she says.

“You just said it was seven!” I yelp indignantly.

She shrugs. “Now it’s eight.”

I shoot a glance at Sadra. She glares at the shopkeeper and hesitates. Her nostrils are flaring, a sure sign she’s about to lose her temper. I bite my lip guiltily.

“Excuse me,” a voice behind us says. “I couldn’t help but hear…”

“Where did you come from?” Sadra snaps.

The newcomer is a well-built and handsome young man, which probably accounts for Sadra’s rudeness. She doesn’t like looking silly in front of attractive people.

“Outside,” the man says, and winks at me. “Like I said, I couldn’t help hearing you.”

I blush. I didn’t realize I was shouting.

“Here,” the stranger says, dropping a handful of gold coins onto the counter. He turns to me. “May I?”

I nod, unable to speak, and let him fasten the necklace around my neck. My hand flies to my throat and I wrap my fingers around the pendant protectively. A tear trembles at the corner of my eye, threatening to escape. My new hero smiles encouragingly and ushers us out of the shop.

“Kirit,” he calls from the door.

A small, reddish form slips from beneath a stool and bounds up to us, planting its paws on my knee.

“It’s you!” I cry. I bend to rub the fox’s ears like I’ve always wanted to do and it licks my hands eagerly. My eyes snap to the young man. I was too upset about my necklace to realize that I know him--or at least, I’ve seen him. Several times.

“You’ve met?” the man asks, raising an eyebrow. Then he purses his lips worriedly. “We haven’t met, have we? That would be embarrassing.”

“I--not really,” I stammer, glancing at Sadra. She shrugs helplessly. I gesture vaguely at the fox. “It’s just--”

“Oh, good. You’d be surprised how many people have ‘not really’ met Kirit,” the man says with a relieved smile. He picks up the fox and cradles it in his arms. “I’m Luca. And this little monster is Kirit. He’s...not shy.”

“I see that,” I say with a small smile. “Thank you for what you did. I can’t tell you what it means to me. If there’s anything I can do to thank you...”

“You could tell me your name,” he suggests.

“Oh. I’m Sasha,” I say shyly. “This is Sadra.”

“Sasha and Sadra?” he asks with a grin--as many people do now that my name isn’t a secret. It’s getting old. “I like it.”

“We’re cousins,” Sadra says ruefully. She seems to have recovered her composure. “Our parents obviously didn’t think it through very carefully.”

“I think it’s charming,” he assures her. “Are you new to the city?”

“Sasha just arrived this week,” Sadra rushes to tell him. I shoot her a quelling look.

“I’m sorry you got such a poor welcome,” Luca tells me. “Some of these merchants are little better than bandits.”

“Oh, that’s just business,” Sadra disagrees with a toss of her hair. “Let this be your first lesson in bargaining, Sasha. You have to make them think you’ll walk away. If they know how much you want something, they’ll take everything you have.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” I say. I rub the moonstone with my thumb. “It was such a shock.”

“Well, we got out of it with our purses intact,” Sadra says, squeezing my hand. She smiles at Luca. “Thanks to you. We’re in your debt.”

“It was no trouble,” Luca says with a careless gesture. It looks like it’s meant to be elegant, but the effect is spoiled by Kirit sticking his nose in Luca’s face. “Can I walk with you a while? You could tell me more about how you lost your necklace. If you want to, I mean.”

I hesitate. Seeing my discomfort, Sadra jumps in.

“I’m sorry, we should really be getting back,” she says regretfully. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“At least tell me where I can find you,” Luca pleads. He gives me a dazzling smile. “For Kirit’s sake. He likes you.”

I blush furiously. I’m all lightheaded and I can’t think straight.

“W-well,” I stutter. “The Temple doesn’t allow--”

“Aha!” Luca cries. “You’re Temple initiates. What year?”

“Sasha’s not an initiate,” Sadra corrects him, and grins wickedly at me. “Not yet, anyway. Which means you can call on her whenever you like.”

“Sadra!” I hiss, elbowing her in the ribs.

“I’ll do that,” Luca promises, placing his free hand over his heart. “Goodbye for now. Sasha...I’m very glad to have heard you yelling at that woman.”

Completely tongue-tied, I just nod and return the gesture. Sadra does the same and we hurry away, giggling like schoolgirls.

“I told you!” Sadra crows once we’re out of sight. “Hah! He couldn’t take his eyes of you.”

“I thought I was going to throw up,” I gasp.

“Honestly, Sasha,” Sadra says. “As if you’ve never spoken to a man before.”

“Well, I haven’t,” I tell her. “Not like that.”

“What!” Sadra cries. “Even before? How old are you, anyway? I can’t believe I’ve never asked.”

“I’m…” I have to think about it. “Seventeen, I think.”

“You think?”

“It was almost fall where I came from,” I explain. “When it happened. I’d just turned sixteen. When I woke up in--in that place, it was spring. So I’m not sure.”

“Huh,” Sadra says. “Well, seventeen or almost eighteen, then. In any case, you’re definitely old enough to receive the attentions of that very fine looking young man.”

“Is it safe?” I ask anxiously. “What if he finds out...you know?”

“Are you going to tell him?” Sadra asks. “Because that’s the only way he’d find out.”

“No, of course not, but what if he asks things I can’t answer?” I argue. “He’s bound to ask about where I come from and why I came to the city...all sorts of things. I can’t just lie through every conversation.”

“You worry too much,” Sadra says. “Just stick to our story and if you can’t answer, just don’t. Say it’s too painful to talk about.”

“It just seems like such a stupid risk,” I sigh.

“Or a nice addition to your disguise,” Sadra suggests.

“That would be cruel,” I say with a frown. “There’s no point in seeing him again if I’m just going to use him.”

“Well, then it’s an opportunity to make a new friend,” Sadra insists. “You can’t cut yourself off from everything and everyone. It’s not healthy and it’s not very smart, either. You may need help at some point, and I can’t be your only option.”

I groan. “Why are you always right?”

“Because I’ve walked this earth for two years more than you have, during which time I have accumulated vast stores of knowledge and wisdom,” she says seriously.

“This is stupid, anyway,” I say, shaking my head to clear it. “I’ll probably never see him again. He was just flirting.”

“Oh, you’ll see him again,” Sadra says confidently. “You were too busy being bashful to see the way he was looking at you.”

“Be honest, you just think he’s good-looking,” I accuse her.

“And charming and kind and generous,” Sadra adds. “And, moon above, did you see his--”

“Sadra.”

Sadra teases me all the way back to the Temple. I pretend to be annoyed, but really I kind of like it. For the first time in what seems like a century, I feel like a teenager. I feel like myself--or at least a version of myself. I wonder who I would have become if none of this had ever happened. Then I shrug. I’ll never know what would have been, and I feel good right now.

We join the Temple’s students for dinner in the dining hall and sit with some of Sadra’s friends from when she lived here. Sadra wastes no time in filling them in on the juicy details of our adventure at the jewelry shop, except the details are much juicier than I remember them. The other girls congratulate me and pelt me with questions, which I dodge. It’s awkward and overwhelming and embarrassing, and I love it.

We stay up late with the other girls, and together we convince Sadra to stay the night. She and I squeeze into my bed and whisper and giggle and drink bottle after bottle of sweet wine until we fall asleep. I wake up briefly in the middle of the night to find Sadra snoring gently into my hair, making it flutter over my ear. I sigh happily and I curl my fingers around my necklace.

It was a good day.

“It will be a shock,” I hear Emily say from outside the door. “Are you sure you can do this? I don’t want her to be upset.”

“Yes, Emily, for the eighteen thousandth time,” someone snaps. It’s Tara. “God, lay off. You’re not her babysitter anymore. You’re not her keeper.”

“I am, actually,” Emily says tightly. “Until she gets better.”

I wait eagerly for Tara to come in. When she does, I try so hard to say hello even though no one seems to be able to understand me anymore. At my garbled bark, Tara freezes, her expression morphing from annoyance to horror to pity to complete blankness in less than a second.

“Hey, you,” she says softly, and sits on the bed beside me. “I wanted to come sooner, but my mom thought I’d be in the way. I hear you’re quite the medical mystery.”

She pauses, like she’s expecting me to respond, then hastily keeps talking. My mouth works constantly with a life of its own, lips smacking and puckering and twisting in odd grimaces. I can see it’s making Tara uncomfortable, but I can’t stop. Eventually, she runs out of things to say and leaves after giving me a gentle, completely un-Tara-like kiss on the forehead. I watch her go, wishing I could cry. I don’t want to do this anymore.

“Sasha, wake up. Sasha.”

I wake to Sadra shaking my shoulder and hovering over me anxiously. I blink groggily and sit up. When I rub my eyes, I find them wet. I look at Sadra in surprise.

“You were crying,” she explains. “Bad dream?”

“Yes,” I say. “I wish I knew what it meant. Maybe I’m crazy and none of it is real--this place or the dreams or hearing my grandmother in the tunnel. Maybe my whole life I’ve been locked up and dreaming everything.”

“Well, that’s pretty dim,” Sadra says disapprovingly. “Maybe you’re a sleeping oracle who spouts off the things I tell you and the listening villagers take it for prophecy and build their entire society and moral code around my witticisms.”

“Sadra, I’m serious,” I groan.

“So am I,” Sadra says, giving me a shove. “If you’re going to make things up, at least make it entertaining. You have no way of knowing in any case.”

“You can’t blame me for wondering,” I say grumpily.

“I don’t blame you,” Sadra protests. “Not at all. If it were me, I’m sure I’d do the same. But it’s not me, so I can see clearly that it won’t do any good. The best I can do is remind you. Which I’ve done, and now I have to go. I’m dancing in the theater district all day.”

“That sounds nice,” I say wistfully. “I’ll be dancing here all day.”

“Unless Luca comes to steal you away,” Sadra says. “And he will.”

I can’t help the smile that creeps across my face. “I hope so.”

“He will,” Sadra says again. “Don’t worry. And when he does, do some digging for me, will you? I’m sure I’ve seen him before but I can’t think where. It’s making me crazy.”

“I’ll try,” I say dubiously.

“I’ll be back in a couple of days,” she tells me. “Have fun.”

I see her out and then change into dancing gear, grimacing at the throbbing pain in my head and stomach. I never knew my stomach could throb. I gulp down most of the pitcher of water on the nightstand and gag at the scent of wine wafting from the empty bottle. So this is a hangover, I think. Not at all worth it. I lie back and put one of the pillows over my face. I’ll get up in a minute.

When I wake up, I have absolutely no idea what time it is. My face is all greasy and my mouth tastes like a diseased rat died in it. My stomach rumbles and I honestly don’t know if I’m hungry or nauseous. I spend another ten minutes staring at the door, wondering if I have the energy to make it that far, until one of the girls from last night appears.

“Oh, my,” Feli says. “You don’t look at all well. Should I tell that charming young man downstairs to come back later?”

I shoot upright and immediately regret it. I clutch my head, groaning, and fall back.

“Luca’s here? Now?”

“He’s in the small courtyard,” Feli confirms, and comes in to pull me up by the wrists. “Come on, we have to get you cleaned up. I’m not actually going to send him away.”

“But I’m disgusting,” I protest. “I can’t see him like this!”

“Agreed,” Feli snorts. “Don’t worry, Kana and I are experts at this. We’ll have you out there in an eye-blink.”

“Don’t you have rehearsal or something?” I whine.

“Sasha, it’s nearly dinnertime,” Feli informs me. “Stop arguing. You are going to go out and enjoy yourself and then come back and tell us all about it. I can’t wait until I get my talisman. Ooh, you and Sadra are so lucky!”

I don’t have time to ask what she’s talking about. We meet Kana on the stairs and from there I’m swept into a whirlwind of wet washcloths, perfume, powder, and fabric. Somehow I find myself stumbling into a courtyard ten minutes later dressed in someone else’s dress--Kana’s I think--my wig, and Feli’s shoes, which she snatched from her own feet as we scuttled through the kitchen to make up for time lost running back for my wig. They really are experts, I muse dazedly. Incredible.

“Hello,” I say hesitantly when I find Luca.

“Hello,” he says back, and we stare at each other long enough to start feeling uncomfortable.

“I hope it’s alright that I came to see you,” he finally says.

“I’m glad you did,” I rush to assure him. “I, um, was hoping you would.”

“Then I’m glad I did, too,” he says with a smile.

Silence. Agonizing, deafening silence.

“Ah...where’s Kirit?” I ask, inwardly cringing. Was it this hard yesterday? I don’t remember it being this hard to talk to him yesterday.

“Oh, he’s...somewhere,” Luca says vaguely, looking around. “Oh, no--excuse me.”

Luca dashes away and disappears around the corner before I can blink. I stare after him and then look around. Sure enough, Feli and Kana are peeking through the kitchen window. I make a helpless gesture in the direction Luca went and get only emphatic finger jabbings in the same direction in response.

Sighing, I go after Luca. I want to stomp, but I’m sure it would hurt too much. As excited as I was at the idea of seeing Luca again, I’m not loving the reality. Right now I want nothing more than to just go back to bed. For a second I consider sneaking back into Temple and doing just that, but Feli and Kana would probably kill me.

I meet Luca coming back with Kirit cradled in his arms. Kirit’s ears are pinned back and his teeth are bared, but his face is averted from Luca’s scolding. I clap a hand over my mouth to keep myself from laughing out loud.

“You can’t do that, little man,” Luca says sternly. “He could have eaten you in two bites. Happy little fox babies do not tease grouchy old mastiffs and stay happy.”

“He’s a baby?” I ask. Luca’s head shoots up and he smiles sheepishly.

“No, he’s mostly grown,” he says. “But just barely. He has a lot to learn.”

“Are you a Beastspeaker?” I ask curiously.

“Yes, of course,” Luca says. “Thankfully for Kirit, or I wouldn’t have been able to keep that...bear back there from tearing him apart.”

I giggle. “His name is Bear. He’s the gardener’s dog. He’s sweet, really.”

“Maybe, but if anyone can drive a beast to its baser nature, it’s Kirit,” Luca tells me.

“I don’t believe that,” I say, reaching out to scratch Kirit’s chin. “Just look at that face.”

“That face is full of lies,” Luca informs me. “Just wait until he steals your dinner or tears up your favorite dress or something. Then you’ll know.”

“I still don’t believe you,” I laugh.

“Well, you will,” Luca says. “And when you do, I think I should get some kind of reward for trying to warn you.”

“That sounds fair,” I say with a smile.

Silence. Again. And my headache is back. I was ignoring it so well before. Luca is staring at me. Please say something, I think desperately.

“You don’t look so good,” he comments finally. When my smile falters, he hastens to add, “I mean--you look like you don’t feel well. Can I get you something?”

“Food,” I say without thinking, then blush.

“I can do that,” he says, looking relieved. “Just follow me.”

We leave through the Temple gardens to avoid any chance of running into--well, anyone. I saw Feli and Kana spying again through another window as we were talking before. If things get awkward and pathetic again, and I’m sure they will, I don’t want to have an audience.

“I think I know what’s wrong with you,” Luca says as we make our way through the busy streets.

“You keep doing that,” I say exasperatedly. I not sure if I’m annoyed or not. “Can’t you just lie and say I look pretty?”

“You’re beautiful,” Luca protests. He grins at me conspiratorily. “But feeling miserable. Sharp pain in your head, rolling stomach, dull ache everywhere else. The smell of food makes you feel sick, but you’re starving. Am I right?”

“Yes,” I say, honestly surprised. “How did you know?”

Luca laughs. “It’s not hard to tell. Was it wine or spirits?”

“Wine,” I say glumly. I put my hands to my face. “I’m so embarrassed. I never drink wine or spirits but then last night...and you came and I was still in bed and Feli and Kana had to dress me like a baby to get me out there...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. He takes my hands away from my face and pulls one through his arm. “We’ll get some food and take it somewhere quiet to eat and you’ll feel better. Then you’ll feel bad again, but I’ll make sure you’re home by the time it happens, I promise.”

“That sounds perfect,” I say heartily.

We buy kabobs of meat and vegetables as well as a stoppered jug of fruit juice and take it to the public gardens for an impromptu picnic. Now that I’m not trying to hide my hangover, we talk easily. As I feared, Luca does want to know all about where I come from and how I came to be in the City. I tell him the story that Sadra and I devised: I’m Sadra’s cousin from a distant village, and my parents were killed by bandits. I even tell him an edited version of what happened to me, that my necklace was taken from me by the people who brought me to the City. I make it sound like they were supposed to help me but then betrayed me.

I turn the conversation away from dangerous subjects as soon as I can and ask about him. He tells me he breeds and trains the Prince’s horses and hounds. Kirit, he explains, is one of the many foxes bred by his grandfather on their country estate.

“Foxes make wonderful hunters and ratters,” he tells me eagerly. “Companion animals, too. My mother has three, and they’re completely devoted to her.”

“How do you tame them?” I ask curiously.

“They’re not tamed,” Luca corrects me. “They’re domesticated. There’s a difference, you know. We’ve been breeding them for--what is it--nearly eighty years, I think. My great-great grandfather originally bred them for their furs but then my great-grandfather thought they could be useful for more than their skins. By now the foxes we breed are as different from wild foxes as dogs are from wolves. Well, perhaps not that different, but they will be one day. How Kirit sees the world is nothing like how a wild fox sees it.”

“That’s amazing,” I say wonderingly. “What about your father? Will he continue breeding them?”

“My...father died when I was young,” Luca says without looking at me. “But I’ll take over for my grandfather. We’ve given some of the foxes to our friends as gifts, and word has spread. It will be a very lucrative business one day.”

“Your great-grandfather must have been a clever man,” I comment, “to come up with something like that.”

“Like a fox himself,” Luca says with a grin. “That’s what my grandfather says.”

“Was he a Beastspeaker too?” I ask curiously.

“My grandfather is,” Luca says. “His father wasn’t. Grandfather says he doesn’t think his father would have thought to start breeding only the friendly ones if he had been. Since he wouldn’t have needed to, you see.”

“Is Kirit especially friendly, or are all the foxes like him?” I ask, rubbing Kirit’s belly.

“He’s more outgoing, I suppose,” Luca says. “They all have different personalities, just like anyone, but I wouldn’t say he’s unusually friendly. Unusually silly, more like, even for his age.”

“I think he’s wonderful,” I declare.

“Of course he is,” Luca agrees, and reaches over to grab Kirit’s nose and plant a kiss on it. “I complain about him a lot, but I love him.”

My heart melts. I spend several minutes petting Kirit and listening to Luca’s stories about him. I don’t want to say anything in case something embarrassing comes out. Having a cute guy sit there right in front of me saying cute things about a cute animal is lowering my IQ. I realize I’m staring at him and quickly look away.

“I’m trying to train him like our other foxes,” Luca finishes. “But I think it’s not going to work.”

“Why not?” I ask. “I would have thought a Beastspeaker could train any animal.”

“Not if you want the animal to be useful to anyone else. It’s because I’m a Beastspeaker that it’s not going well,” Luca says, shaking his head. “He doesn’t stand for the training because he knows he can just talk to me. Grandfather has to hire trainers for the same reason.”

“But I thought you said you train hounds and horses for the Prince?” I say with a frown.

“I oversee their training,” he amends. “Mostly I keep track of progress, make sure the animals aren’t being mistreated, that kind of thing. The majority of my work is with the breeding program. How are you feeling? I’ve been babbling this whole time--do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” I say. “I’d like to see more of the gardens, though. I’ve only seen a little bit with Sadra.”

“Of course,” Luca says enthusiastically. “It’s all amazing. People come from all over the Empire to see these gardens, you know. They’ve been cultivated by Greenloves for over two hundred years.”

I nod appreciatively, though I’m not entirely sure whether Greenlove is a kind of gift or a family name. I’ll have to ask Sadra later. I never like asking other people things if I can help it. I’m afraid I’ll ask something that should be completely obvious or common knowledge and make people wonder about me.

I’m trying to learn the things that should be completely obvious or common knowledge, but the going is slow. Alesa has started teaching me how to read, at least. Apparently it’s not that uncommon for poor little country maids like me to be illiterate, but it still makes me feel stupid. I hope I can learn enough before Luca notices.

“Are you still feeling alright?” Luca asks as we admire a display of roses. “You’ve been letting me talk about my new colt’s conformation since we left the arbor.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “It’s just a lot to take in. It’s so beautiful.”

“You’re sure the wine isn’t sneaking back to remind you of your sins?” Luca jokes.

“Maybe a little,” I admit. “But maybe we can send it away again with more food?”

“They won’t be expecting you back at the Temple?” Luca asks.

“I don’t think so,” I say uncertainly. “Except maybe Feli and Kana, but they can wait.”

“Well, if that’s so, there’s an eating house nearby that has the most delicious lamb stew and an exquisite singer in residence,” Luca says eagerly.

Aside from the lingering hangover, I have a wonderful time. It’s not exactly how I imagined myfirst real date, but I love it. Luca is funny and attentive and smart, and he listens to what I say and asks intelligent questions even when I’m sure that nothing but stammered gibberish is coming out of my mouth. It makes me want to tell him more-- everything about myself that I can think of. But I know I can’t. I can’t tell him anything.