by F. F. John
Titan Nabo Reffour. With his ebony mustache, bushy eyebrows and unwavering golden stare, he’s considered intimidating by many. Myself, included. Dan is right. Father would do anything to get what he wants and from what I’ve learned, his mother was the same. The late Titane Arida Reffour was considered ruthless, having somehow divested at least three separate Titans of their wealth without any violence.
“What was so important that you two intoxicated a child?” Kilali asks with a wide grin.
“I had nothing to do with it.” Bel insists, flopping into an empty chair.
Taking the seat beside her, I explain, “I’ve heard a few things about Lance and a certain scioness, who just so happens to be absent. I simple wanted to confirm the rumors.”
Kilali bends forward in her seat, eyes sparkling with interest. “Ooh, who is it?”
“Yes, I want to know too.” Priye says.
Dan chuckles from his perch at the end of the rectangular table. “Yes, it’s true.”
The four of us whip our heads towards him.
“There’s no way you’d know about this.” Bel says, her voice high with surprise. I’m equally shocked because Dan always chides us for “peddling in filth” when we start to gossip in his presence. Clearly, he’s not above a little tattling himself.
“Listen, I’m not like you two who go out there searching for gossip.” He points to Bel and I on our side of the table. “However, if a juicy tidbit comes my way, I’m happy to listen.”
“All right Dan, you’ve got to share.” I cajole with a soft voice that I reserve for him. For as long as I can remember, the tiny voice from me has consistently worked to get what I want from Dan.
He looks at each of us, the corners of his lips turning down as he says, “No. I. Can’t. Sorry.”
“Oh, come on, Dan. Not even for me?” I blink rapidly and pout for more impact.
Across from me, Priye snickers and tips his head closer to Kilali’s. “Dan’s gonna fall for it again.”
She laughs heartily and whispers, “he always does.”
He twists his mouth, as if that will help him stick to his original refusal to share what he knows.
I blink faster. “Please, Dan?”
He frowns but his mouth relaxes and I know I’ve broken his resolve. “All right, all right.” Bel, Priye and Kilali snicker, with Priye saying, “Knew it.”
That prompts a dirty look from his older brother. “I heard that Pree.” Unbothered, Priye picks up his glass and takes a swig of the crimson contents to hide his chuckling.
“Hey, don’t worry about Pree, he’s so annoying.” I stick my tongue at Priye once more. “Let me ask you a few questions, you only need to answer them with a yes or no.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“Lance and Adaora are an item, aren’t they?”
Dan frowns. “I don't feel right about-”
“Just answer the question.” Bel snaps.
“Yes.” He takes a sip from his cup.
Good, that confirms what I already knew. Time to ask about what I just learned from Madina.
“Someone plans to end the pairing between Lance and Enyama, right?”
Dan twists his mouth and looks upwards, clearly trying not to answer my question. “Maybe.”
“How?”
“I can’t answer that with a yes or no.” Dan says and shakes his head, signaling that he won’t reveal anything else.
Why is he so worried about sharing what he knows with us? Is he protecting someone? That has to be it.
How would Titane Opitz scuttle this pairing? Does she plan on revealing that Lance impregnated a girl from one of the sixty Lower Houses? While unacceptable behavior, I doubt Enyama’s family would risk the prospect of profit over that. If the story became public, Lance would deny it and unless there was proof, the matter would die a sudden death. If, somehow, there was proof, all sides would settle the matter behind closed doors and lots of money would likely be transferred to keep the pregnant girl and her family quiet and extremely wealthy. Profit, and the maintenance of a nome’s power, comes before everything else.
Tired of considering the possibilities, I decide to press Dan. “How are they going to do it?”
“I can’t say anything else.” He closes his eyes as if to ward off my questions.
Exasperated, I say, “I don’t like this game anymore.”
“Me neither,” Bel says. “Just tell us what’s going on, Dan. It’s not as if we’ll tell anybody.”
“What are you kids talking about?” Aunty Tari asks from her side of the table and we pretend to be nothing but upstanding individuals, not young people who have been gossiping about our hosts.
The conversation turns to other things.
Hmm, how I can use this information to my advantage? The relationship between Adaora and Lance isn’t common knowledge yet and it could prove useful eventually. For now, I’ll tuck it away for use at a later date.
Chapter Two
Two weeks later, I’m looking at shoes at Sadarls and getting increasingly irritated. I need a pair of shoes to match a gown that Bel insists is boysenberry. I think it’s purple but she tends to know more about these things so here I am searching for boysenberry-colored shoes. And I’m not finding anything that comes close.
All of this stress for Scion Dren Kriel’s coronation. His father, Titan Amsen Kriel, died two months earlier and now it’s Dren’s turn to become the officially recognized leader of his nome and its businesses. I wonder how many people will show up for the ceremony as there was some harsh whispers about the circumstances surrounding the Titan’s death. He’d received a thorough medical exam from his personal restorer on the day of his death and was declared healthy. Later that day, Father saw him at a celebration of Titane Yetun’s partite relationship. He mentioned the man looked down but still, there’d been no indication of the fatal thief that would take him in his sleep later that night.
Oh well, old people eventually die no matter how skilled a restorer they have on call. And in Titan Kriel’s case, he was close to two hundred years old, according to Aunty Tari. He didn’t look older than sixty to me. Sadly, he just didn’t have any more time.
And here I am, wishing I had more time to find the perfect shoes for tomorrow’s coronation. I’d have had shoes custom-made to wear to the occasion. It’s the next main event on the year’s social calendar and it’s imperative that I look good.
No, that’s not quite right.
It’s imperative that I look better than every other girl there. Dren’s coronation day marks the beginning of my Premiere. That’s the three-month-period before my 17th birthday, during which time I must be seen in the best outfits at all the best society events. My Premiere will culminate with a birthday celebration and my new living quarters; which Father is having built for me on the grounds of our estate.
“May I be of assistance, Scioness?” A sales associate says in the high-pitched voice that they are all taught to affect. It’s supposed to signal to members of a nome that the individual is one of us, but we all know better. Sales associates, like this lady, come from the poorer families of the Lower Houses. These are a group of sixty families that are not as wealthy or powerful as the Group of Twenty. The Lower Houses provide educated workers who assist in managing nome businesses. This is unlike people from the Lesser Lands who provide the physical labor needed in certain industries that still rely on human bodies instead of robots and other machines.
I shake my head and keep moving amid the towers of rotating shoes. Sales associates simply want to make their commission and this one couldn’t help me even if she tried. She slinks away, leaving me to watch the three-dimensional images of shoes spin with mounting frustration. The store just doesn’t have what I want. I stare at the black lacquer walls. They’re finished with a crocodile embossing that shines under the store’s harsh lighting.
Determined to give it one last shot, I walk over to a wall and punch the button to once again reveal all the pu
rple-toned shoes Sadarls is carrying this season. Maybe my perfect option slipped by earlier and by some miracle, I’ll find it now.
“Having some trouble?”
This voice comes from behind me. It doesn’t belong to the plummy sales associate and it doesn’t have that falsetto that sales associates usually have. Instead, the sound has a smooth yet husky tenor to it. The notes pluck invisible strings in my chest and they flutter to an irregular beat.
Desperate to see if the person looks as good as he sounds, I force myself to stand still. What if he’s ugly? What if he’s short? What if he’s chubby? The disappointment would be too much to bear. A voice that nice should belong to someone perfect.
Whatever the case, I can’t appear too eager. My nome’s master, Master Erel Portan, has always cautioned that, in all things, a scioness and future titane must never appear rushed. He’s been with my family since before I was born, serving as a provider of counsel to my father and an educator to me over the years. He’s taught me that to appear too enthusiastic about anything or anyone is to open myself to attack from those who want to take me and my family down as many notches as possible. And, as we are the second most-powerful nome, almost everyone in the Twenty would like to take our place.
He clears his throat and I’m not certain if he’s checking to see if his voice worked the last time, or if he’s signaling to me that he’s waiting for an answer.
I’m surprised to hear laughter spills from the stranger and he says, “I always find it amazing that with all your choices, you ladies can never find a pair of shoes. Guess too many options aren’t a good thing for many of you.”
I can’t help but smile. There’s nothing profound about the statement, yet, something about it is funny. Too many options just aren’t working for me. In fact, I realize that they never have: whether it’s shoes or something else. On the other hand, when there’s one thing I want or need, I can easily hone in on getting it.
Turning around, I finally see the stranger. His dark hair looks black in the store’s lighting and it’s cut close to his head. Thick eyebrows frame piercing eyes that seem to see into the very essence of who I am. Freckles dot the area above his high cheekbones and his nose. A strong jaw and a prominent chin cap off his facial features leaving me in awe of how handsome he is.
I also can’t believe that I’ve never seen him before. Is he from a nome? If so, I must have seen him somewhere. The tendrils of a worrisome thought trickle into my mind. What if he’s from one of the Lower Houses? That would make the prospect of a relationship, much less a conversation, almost impossible. That thought causes me to sour until he gives me a shy smile and my chest flutters again. He’s so cute.
He rubs his head before looking down at his sneakers. They’re a pair of blue and gold Imejis from last season. They aren’t cheap by any means and were a limited collection. This guy has got to be from a nome to have been able to get a pair. I’m going to kiss Priye when next I see him because he’s the reason why I’m familiar with those shoes. Priye loves Imeji Cole - a player on his favorite venture team. Bel and I got him a pair of those sneakers. With a wave of my hand I make the rotating cloud of shoes disappear and take a bold step towards him.
“Boys don’t have to worry about wearing the right shoes with an outfit. All you need are a few pairs and you’re fine for any occasion.” I say, trying to take control of our interaction. Portan’s voice rings in my mind, Never be a passive participant in a conversation you’re engaged in. It’s a sign of weakness.
His shyness eases as he lifts his head. “Maybe so. I definitely don’t worry about such things. All I need is one pair of black shoes.” That voice again. The sound of it causes my breath to hitch in my throat. “But, I’m certain that whatever you choose to wear will look great on you.”
With that, he turns me into a little school girl and I feel my face flare. Breaking eye contact, I look all about me as I try to catch my breath. Bel would smack me silly if she was here for being so girly.
“I’d offer to help, but I’m no good at such things.” He says and when I look at him, he has a sly grin on his face. “I’m only here because my sister wasn’t well enough to accompany our mom. I know literally nothing about shopping and was dragged here kicking and screaming.”
For some reason, I visualize an older woman dragging him kicking and screaming into an airship and chuckle. He raises a questioning eyebrow but I opt not to share the silly images in my head.
A sliver of an idea slips into my mind and rapidly takes hold. “Is your mom just shopping in general or does she have a specific event in mind?”
“My family was invited to a coronation and mom needs a new pair of shoes despite the many she already has.” He says with an amused shake of his head.
My body tingles with relief. I’m happy to know that his family is one of the Twenty. That’s the only way they’d receive an invite to the coronation of a new Titan. Knowing he’s from a nome makes the prospect of a relationship more likely and fluttering fills my chest. But, which nome does he belong to? And is his mom a Titane or just some secondary family member in a nome? In order to get the information I need, my next set of inquiries need to be delicate. Otherwise, I’ll come across as nosy and that wouldn’t serve me well.
“Oh, Dren Kriel’s coronation.” With feigned pity for Dren in my voice, I say, “It’s such a shame that he has to ascend to Titan so soon. He’s only … gosh, how old is he again?” A question like that could reveal whether my handsome stranger is familiar with Dren or Dren’s peers.
His shrug is disinterested. “All I know is that the Kriel boy is a few years younger than me.”
Hmm, Dren is eighteen so this guy could be twenty? Twenty-one? Whatever his age, he’d be around Dan’s age, who is twenty-three years old. If I can figure out his name, maybe I can get Dan to tell me what he knows about him.
A lady in an azure blue pants suit walks into my peripheral vision and we both regard her. Her eyes fall upon me and widen before a sheepish smile lights her features. “Pardon the interruption but, Invier, I’ll be in the store next door when you’re done.” She adjusts the collar to his white button up shirt and turns on her heels.
“My mom.” He explains, plunging hands into his denim pockets.
“I can tell.” I say with a smile. “And now, I also know that your name is Invier.”
He returns my smile with a grin before asking, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. What’s your name?”
“Why don’t you tell me when we meet at the coronation.”
His lips part but I head to the door before he can speak. Hopefully, my move will pique his interest and the coronation will prove more interesting than I previously expected.
Don’t look back, I warn myself, though I really want to see the look on his face.
And now, I have a few hours to make sure I’m indeed the best dressed person at tomorrow’s event. In my head, I create a list of things to do - have my personal shoe designer create the perfect shoes overnight. I’m going to go straight to his home right now. The second things I need to do is find out everything there is to know about Invier.
Those should be easy enough to accomplish.
Chapter Three
It’s been twenty-four hours since I met Invier and I still don’t know nearly enough about him. From my delicately-placed inquiries, I’ve learned he lives an uneventful existence because there’s very little out there about him. He’s the scion of Nome Floran, and following in the steps of other Florans, he’s training to become an adjudicator. There’s little to no dirt on him, which is good. Maybe that means that unlike many of the other boys his age, he’s mostly stayed out of trouble. I can only hope that Invier’s pristine reputation is not a result of his family carefully cleaning up behind him as some do.
“Care to share your thoughts?”
Bel’s question distracts me from my over-thinking. I give her a small smile before gazing out at the coronation hall. Strips of clear, coiled glass hang down
from the ceiling. Three floors of seating for the various members of the Twenty take up three walls. There doesn’t seem to be an empty seat anywhere. As usual, Father and I are seated with the Mezans. There’s been no sight of Invier, but I continue to search for him, recalling his bright eyes, his freckles and those lips.
“Ahem. What’s on your mind, Neat?” Bel pokes me with her elbow.
There’s no way I’m telling her about Invier. She’d tease me endlessly for having yet another crush. My last crush was Scion Endal Zephole and he was very easy on the eye. We had a brief thing last summer but it ended when I realized I wouldn’t meet certain of his expectations. He moved on to Dogenne Ivena of Nome Lebier and Olia says they’re to be paired next year.
“Absolutely nothing.” I take Bel’s arm in mine and scan the hall once more. All I see are a blur of faces encased within white walls. I look straight ahead at the northern wall and the throne before it. Constructed from a clear composite material, the throne chair would swallow Bel and I if we sat in it. The throne sits above the floor on a platform and alongside everything around it, glitters under the bright lighting. My gaze turns to the wall behind it and I realize that what I thought was white is actually much more than that. The color flickers from white to silver with every slight movement of my head. The change is subtle, but observable with a little attention. This must be the new three-dimensional paint that I’ve heard about. I’ll be sure to put it on the walls somewhere in my new living quarters. It’ll add a nice touch.