“I don’t enjoy being babied,” Victus lies with a grin.
Trey snorts, “You’re a fuss bucket, Vic.”
“I love her,” Victus says quietly, looking his brother in the eyes with all the banter gone from his expression.
“I know you do. I’m happy for you,” Trey returns with a genuine grin.
“Victus and I must look like awful people to you, Kricket,” Charisma says to me in a melancholy tone.
I turn my gaze upon her; my emotions over what I’m hearing are a jumbled mess. I don’t know what to think or feel. I say the first thing that comes to mind. “It just feels bad right now because your secret’s out. But it can’t be as bad as it was before, can it? It’s not like having your love be an unspeakable thing that you carry around—something you can only daydream about—about the places you’d go with him if you could—the things you’d do—the person you’d be with him. You no longer have to hide behind pretend smiles whenever he’s near, hoping no one else will guess what he means to you—hoping he won’t guess, either, because he’s meant to be with someone else. You must have wondered if you’d ever have a real smile again, and it must have been torture when your paths remained aligned straight ahead, never allowed to intersect, just continuing with the same common symmetry pulling you to him but keeping you apart at the same time.”
“How did you know all of that about me?” she asks, stunned. “Is that one of your priestess gifts? Reading people?”
“No,” I laugh humorlessly. “I’ve just drowned in the dark before too.”
Charisma links arms with me, tugging on mine gently. “I’ll take you up to the house. You need to rest,” she says. Trey takes my other hand and follows with Honey Badger’s reins in his other hand. Victus trails us leading the two dappled gray mounts.
Charisma takes me up the fragrant garden path where tiny violet flower heads litter the walkway of gray cobblestone and green moss. Nearing a water feature, I want to dive into the elegant fountain that creates a centerpiece to the courtyard. I would rather face Trey’s parents soaking wet than in the state I’m in: dust-covered and spix-scented.
Ahead of us, ledgestone steps lead to a long, wide, wraparound porch. The entryway is ledgestone as well, with copper doors. Copper bolts create a beveled framework around them. On either side of the ledgestone are transparent walls like the ones in Charisma’s building, allowing the outdoors into the living area of the building. There are multiple rooflines of a gray material I’ve never seen before. It appears similar to slate, but as I near it, the tiles shift, as the scales of a living dragon do, to seek the most advantageous angles for which to catch the sunlight.
Before I reach the first step, the copper doors open up and a couple walks onto the wide porch hand in hand. I stop where I am. I know immediately that these are Trey and Victus’s parents, because the resemblance of father and sons is uncanny. In fact, they could all be brothers, if this were Earth and they weren’t all ridiculously old. Trey drops the spixes’ reins.
Trey tugs me forward while Charisma drops my arm and hangs back with Victus. I can usually read a room fairly well, but his parents are hard to know. His mom is surprisingly petite by Etharian standards, only an inch or two taller than me. Her hair is very lovely and long, flowing down her back in silky dark brown waves. She could easily be his sister, which is a little disconcerting when you think that parents should be older-looking. Her violet eyes are the shape of Trey’s. I watch as they fill with tears; she fights to keep them from spilling over.
Trey’s dad is a puzzle; I can’t tell if he’s livid or just extremely upset. Either way, it’s too much emotion for me to handle right now. We stop in front of them; Trey gives his father a formal nod of greeting. It’s not returned. Instead, his father grabs him by the shoulders and hugs him fiercely. Trey’s mom caves in as well, hugging them both and crying softly until they make room for her in their hugfest. I stand there awkwardly with my hand in Trey’s until I feel Trey and Trey’s dad reach over and pull me into the hug-a-thon as well. It’s still very awkward, but it’s also sort of sweet, so I manage to tolerate it until Trey’s dad lets us go.
“I’m glad you both made the trip here,” Trey says to fill the void of silence while his parents try to pull themselves together. He waits several moments for them to dab at their eyes with handkerchief-like swatches.