by T. J. Klune
“Ruv,” Vadoma said, sounding pleased about something. “Perhaps you can show my grandson here Mashallaha. Alone. Just the two of you. By yourselves.”
And there went subtlety right out the window. “Maybe we could—”
“It would be my honor,” Ruv said, bowing low.
“There isn’t time—”
“Nonsense,” Vadoma said. “You are our guest. Ruv will show you Mashallaha. Tonight, we have a feast in your honor. Tomorrow, you will go to the dragon. And we’ll see what we see.”
“I really must insist that we—” I tried again.
“I’m an old lady,” Vadoma said. “I’m tired now. I must rest. Leave me.”
And I was ushered out by Ruv before I could even say another word.
OUTSIDE THE stacked carriages, I blinked against the harsh sunlight, my eyes having gotten used to the darkened room. It took me a moment to realize that Ruv had his hand on my arm still, and I pulled out of his grip as gently as I could. He didn’t react.
“There are many wonderful things about Mashallaha,” he said. “The greatest wonders in all of Verania.”
“I’m sure there are,” I said. “And your city is very beautiful. But we’ve been traveling a great distance and—”
“Your mother grew up not that far from here. Did you know that?”
Well, no. I hadn’t. And while there was an itch under my skin to go find Ryan, to make sure he and the others were okay, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see where she’d come from. Because regardless of what had brought us here or why she’d left to begin with, this was my history. And I was immersed in it for the first time. Granted, this place and its people hadn’t made the best first impression, what with the racism and the general sense of coercion for me being here at all, but still….
“She did?” I asked.
Ruv smiled at me. “I didn’t know her, obviously, as she was gone before I ever came to be. But I’ve heard the stories. People speak of her with much love and respect.”
I frowned. “I thought they weren’t allowed to speak of her at all. Isn’t that the point of being shunned?”
“She followed her heart,” Ruv said. “And while tradition is important, there is something romantic about it that sparks the imagination. And here you are now, returning to where she left. It’s like a circle has been completed.”
In a weird way, it was. This place didn’t feel like home—it would never feel like home, I was sure of that—but there was something about it. Something that felt familiar. And it wouldn’t take long, right? The others probably wouldn’t even notice I’d been gone by the time we’d get back. And to think about what I could tell Mom I’d seen when I got back to Lockes….
So I said, “Yeah. Sure. Okay. Lead the way.”
And the Wolf’s smile widened.
MASHALLAHA WASN’T big, certainly not compared with Lockes or Meridian City, or even compared to the Port. But it was bustling in a way the others weren’t. Lockes always carried with it the divide between the classes, the rich and the middle and the slums. In Meridian City, the heart that beat within it was diseased and corrupted, and it was every man (or woman) for themselves.
Mashallaha was different in that there was a thrum to it, an order to everything everyone did. There didn’t seem to be any disparity in wealth, no sense of desperation or deviousness. There were no nobles. There were no working whores on the street corners. Oh sure, people hawked their wares, shouting in bright, colorful voices—that was something similar, something I thought was universal in almost every market. But it was the way the people went about it. There didn’t seem to be any slick solicitation, no shifty-eyed I’ll make you the best deal I can. People came, people bought what they needed, and they left.
It was… different.
It didn’t mean it was better, though.
Because I could see the curiosity on their faces, the barely disguised looks in my direction before the gazes turned away and the whispers began. It made sense, really, because while there wasn’t a specific division in say, the affluence of the people around me, there was a major difference between those from Mashallaha and those that weren’t. Those that were from Mashallaha were dark skinned and dark haired, dressed for the desert. Most were barefoot in loose clothing made of thin, sheer material. Both men and women wore colorful scarves around their heads to protect them from the sun above.
Then there were the tourists, the light-skinned people who wore clothing perhaps not best suited for the desert, sweat on their faces as the women cooled themselves with large ornate gypsy-made fans, the men wiping away excess moisture with small embroidered gypsy-made kerchiefs.
And then there was me. Stuck somewhere in the middle. I was not as light skinned as the tourists. I was not as dark as the gypsies. I was somewhere in between. That coupled with the fact that my grandmother was the leader of most of the people around me no doubt added to whatever mystique they thought I had, for better or worse.
It was uncomfortable, that feeling.
I was used to being stared at these days.
But not to the point of where I knew I was being judged for something I really had no control over.
As if he could read my mind, Ruv said, “They don’t hate you. Not really.”
“That’s not as assuring as you think it is,” I muttered as we made our way through the crowd.
He shrugged. “They just don’t understand, I suppose.”
“Understand what?”
“You. Your heritage. The choices made. You are not your mother, but you come from her. She left the roma. Or, more formally, the vitsa. The clan.”
“She left because she loved.”
“And some think she should have loved her people more.”
“Really,” I said. “Because that doesn’t seem fair.”
“Why?”
“Because it shouldn’t be either or. You shouldn’t have to give up one for the other.”
“But life is choices,” Ruv said. “And what is love but a choice? You love your unicorn. And your half-giant. What if the choice came between them or your parents? Who would you choose?”
“Easy,” I said, curling my lip. “I would fight the person forcing me to make a choice.”
“Violence.” Ruv shook his head. “It’s not always the answer.”
“No, but it sure feels good to kick a villain’s ass.”
“And Ryan?”
“What about him?” I asked, tone flat.
“If it came down to saving his life—”
“I would fight the person forcing me to make a choice,” I repeated.
Ruv grinned at me. “You care for him.”
As if there was any doubt. Ryan was a pain in my ass, and I in his (literally), but I wouldn’t change a godsdamned thing about it. Except for him being a jerk right now. And the fact that I was probably also being a jerk.
“Ah,” Ruv said. “How fortunate.”
“I don’t get you,” I admitted.
“You don’t know me,” he said, leading us away from the market. The noise of the crowd behind us gave way to the creaking of the walkway under our feet, the lap of the water beneath the city. The buildings that rose around us cast the path in shadow. It was cooler here.
“And I’m not going to. Not like Vadoma wants.”
“What Vadoma wants is to help the world survive.”
I snorted. Because that sounded terrible. “She also wants you and me to get funky.”
He laughed brightly. Even I could admit it was a nice sound. “Yes. There is that. Funky.” The word sounded strange from him, like he was tasting it for the first time. “She spoke of you. Often.”
“She doesn’t know me.”
“Perhaps not. But her blood is in your veins.”
“You all keep saying that. But blood isn’t everything. It doesn’t define us.”
“No?”
“No,” I said. “Because Tiggy and Gary and Kevin aren’t my blood, but they’re mine. The s
ame with Ryan. And the King and the Prince.”
“And Randall and Morgan? Even after their secrets?”
“Yes,” I said. “Because even if I’m angry with them, even if I don’t agree with the choices they made, I could never cast them away. Because they’re my family. And that bond will always mean more than blood.”
His smile seemed more genuine then. Softer, somehow. “You are a strange man, Sam of Wilds. I like that about you.”
“Thanks? I think.”
“It’s refreshing.”
“I can’t tell if you’re hitting on me or not,” I said. “Because most times when that happens, people are usually more blatant about it.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“Sometimes. Usually by people who want to kill me.”
“Why?”
“Don’t really know. Just a thing that happens. They threaten, I smile, they flirt aggressively, something blows up or someone gets kicked in the face, and then there’s a lot of screaming and running involved.”
“That’s… not surprising, actually. From what I’ve heard about you.”
“And what else have you heard?” I asked, curious.
“You really have no idea what the people say about you?”
“Not really. I don’t… care? Mostly. I mean, if it’s bad, yeah, then maybe I want to know so I can do something about it.”
“Like those people in Lockes. Marching and shouting.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh no. That’s just Lady Tina DeSilva. She’s my archnemesis.”
“The little girl? In the dress?”
“Hey! She might be little, but you’ll never meet a blacker heart. She is festering with a diabolical mind that seeks to do nothing but cause me pain and misery. She lives for nothing more than to destroy me. And one day, I shall strike her down with the force of the gods—why are you laughing at me?”
He wiped his eyes. “I’ve never seen someone get so worked up over a teenage girl before.” He continued to laugh and leaned over to brush his shoulder against mine.
“Yes, well, she is—”
“Isn’t this awkwardly cozy?”
“Fuck me sideways,” I muttered before turning around to see Gary and Tiggy standing behind us, Tiggy with his arms over his chest and Gary cocking a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. Which—
“When in the hell did you get eyebrows?” I demanded. “Unicorns don’t have eyebrows. How did you—are those painted on?”
“Of course they are,” Gary said, switching between arching the left eyebrow and the right. “I needed them for this exact moment to look suspicious when interrupting your lovers’ tryst. Now tell me, Sam. How sweet does the betrayal taste? I mean, I assume it’s sweet because of the gypsy diet.”
“Oh my gods,” I said, putting my face in my hands.
“Ah ha,” Gary crowed. “Exactly what I would expect a guilty trollop to say! Tiggy, Sam has broken the sanctity of his marriage.”
“Sam,” Tiggy said, and I didn’t know that I’d ever heard my name said with more disappointment in my life. I actually felt guilty for something that hadn’t even happened.
“Okay, one, I’m not married…”
“Oh, so now we have excuses, ladies and gentlemen! Next you’re going to tell me that you didn’t even do anything wrong!”
“…and two, I wasn’t even doing anything wro—godsdammit.”
“Uh-huh,” Gary said, arching both his fake eyebrows at the same time, looking like he was surprised, but also like he was plotting to take over the world. “Spoken like a true adulteress. For shame, Sam. You have Knight McBottoms Like a Champ waiting for you, but after one lovers’ spat, you find solace in the arms of an exotic stranger while on holiday in a strange land. It’s so sordid, I’m almost impressed. Hell, I am impressed.”
“No.” Tiggy frowned deeper.
“Sweet molasses,” I said weakly. “Okay, look. All Ruv was trying to show me—”
“Oh, it’s Ruv now, is it?”
“Yes, Gary. That’s his name.”
“Oh. Right. Continue on.”
“He was trying to show me where Mom grew up. That’s it.”
“Really,” Gary said dubiously. “Then why did Vadoma tell us that you were indisposed at the moment because you were having some alone time with Ruv?”
“She what,” I said flatly.
“She said you doin’ stuff,” Tiggy said, uncrossing his arms and cracking his knuckles, all while glaring murderously at Ruv.
“Exactly,” Gary said. “Stuff. Why, if Kevin hadn’t been there to hold Ryan back, I’m positive Ruv’s head would be lopped off by now. You’re lucky my ex-husband is so thoughtful. And muscular. Gods, he’s so muscular, the way he was able to hold back Knight Delicious Face as if he were nothing. Mmm. Did I ever tell you about the time Kevin put his—”
“Yes, Gary.”
“Are you sure? It was when he ate my—”
“Yes, Gary.”
“Ah, well. No matter. The past is the past, and the love we shared has flickered out like a candle in the wind. Apparently like your love, given that you’re here all slutty-cozy with a man whose penis you are not familiar with… at least not yet.”
“Did you know about this?” I asked Ruv.
He shrugged. “I cannot control what the phuro says. She does have a mind of her own, you know.”
“Not after I’m done with her,” I muttered. “Gary, you go back and tell the others there is nothing going on. Tiggy, you can stay with us.”
“Right,” Gary said. “Because I only saw you rubbing your shoulder with his shoulder, which everyone knows in a romantic comedy is a sign of affection that leads toward a dick being shoved down someone’s throat.”
“Oh my fucking gods,” I said, gaping at him. “What the hell have you been reading? You know what? I don’t even want to know. Obviously it’s something that has no literary merit whatsoever and should be burned. Tiggy, you go back and tell Ryan that I’m just seeing my mom’s old home. Gary, you stay here so I can keep your freaking mouth shut.”
Tiggy brought two fingers to his eyes, then pointed them at Ruv. “I see you, tiny human.”
“Eep,” Ruv said, but managed to cover it up well enough.
“Don’t you worry, kitten,” Gary said. “I won’t let our Sam here be swayed by gypsy dick. Not even if I have to throw myself on it and sacrifice my butthole so that Sam remains faithful.”
“I wish I could tell you they’re not normally like this,” I said to Ruv. “But that would be a lie.”
He laughed. “They care about you very much.”
“Too much. Way, way too much.”
“House, then back,” Tiggy said to me. “Or I come after you.”
“I’m not going to—”
“You don’t want that.”
“No, sir,” I said quickly. “Sorry, sir. Yes, sir.”
Tiggy waited a beat more before grunting. He reached up and ran a hand down Gary’s mane. “Pretty Gary,” he murmured. Then he glared at Ruv before whirling on his heels and walking back toward the market.
“I do love that half-giant,” Gary said fondly, watching Tiggy go. Once Tiggy had disappeared, Gary turned his head slowly, right eyebrow cocked so high that I thought he was going to strain some muscles in his face. “Now. Where were we?” He obnoxiously pushed his way between Ruv and me, almost knocking me on my ass but not appearing apologetic in the slightest. “There,” he said. “That’s better. Don’t you think? After all, Ruv, I would hate to see what you would look like with a sword through your chest. Or maybe I wouldn’t. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Are your friends always this violent?” Ruv asked me.
I didn’t even have to think about it. “Always. So are my mom and dad. And the King. And the Prince. And Randall and Morgan.”
“We tend to maim when Sam is involved,” Gary agreed. “Hop to it. I’d like to get back before sunset, as there is a feast being thrown in my honor.”
“
I don’t actually think it’s in your honor—”
“You really want to go there right now, Sam? Because we can go there right now if you want.”
I didn’t want to go there.
IT WASN’T much. The house where my mother had lived. Not like where Vadoma lived now. It was set off a narrow walkway, the planks beneath our feet a bit more rickety than those on the main thoroughfares. But it was late afternoon, and the sun was in the west, and the light fell in a perfect line between the buildings until it hit a bed of flowers, colored in reds and greens and oranges and golds. And even though she hadn’t been here for over two decades, I knew this was where she’d come from. This was her touch. It felt almost sacred.
“They were hers,” Ruv said beside me in a quiet voice. “Or so Vadoma says. Her flowers. She loved them, apparently.”
“She loves them still.”
“Does she? That’s… well. I know you don’t trust me. And I know you don’t trust Vadoma. And that’s your right. But before Vadoma was the phuro, she was a mother. And she loved her daughter. Her hands were tied by tradition far older than she could ever be. Older than you or I will ever live. She had to uphold that tradition.”
“She didn’t, though.” I looked at the small house with the faded siding. It wasn’t ostentatious. It looked like a home, nicer than anything we’d had in the slums. And she’d given that up for my father. “She didn’t have to force my mother away.”
“She comes here,” Ruv said. “And tends to the flowers. Every week, she is on her hands and knees caring for them. I asked her once why she had let her own flowers die after her daughter left, but not these. Why she wanted the reminder in front of her face, so brightly colored, of how she banished her own daughter.”
“What did she say?”
“She said it was where she felt closest to her. That even though she was gone, even though she was far away, there was still a piece of her here. And she was going to hold on to that piece with all her might.”