The forest was dark and the trees black and twisted. There was light enough for their tall, skeletal trunks to throw shadows everywhere. Seshovi and Javari and Laki proceeded upon the narrow and twisted path cautiously.
“Rokan! Princess Veyome! Denan! Where are you?!"Laki yelled.
Javari added anxiously, “Answer if you hear us!"
The three kept calling for their friends, hoping. They walked on and on, ducking under stiff and twisted branches at head level, turning to avoid having clothing caught on wickedly sharp thorns.
Seshovi, being more slight of build and more delicate than the others, tired after what seemed seven or so long hours over the perilous terrain of the forest floor. Oh, she knew self-sustaining spells, and they worked well, but she’d already used them, and they only went so far. She was starting to become fatigued. It was harder and harder to raise a booted foot only to put it down again. Her breaths became increasingly shallow, to the point where she was continually gasping for air. Every nerve in her limbs seemed to ache incessantly, throbbing dully.
It would have been so simple to sit down for a moment, or lie down, and just not get back up. She’d been silent for hours by now anyway - they wouldn’t notice the difference, not immediately. After a concise moment of consideration Seshovi rejected that idea. She would help her friends find the others if she died of utter weariness within feet of them. Her world, her awareness, her sense of self-being narrowed down to her feet, to the bones and tendons and nerves in them, to their up-and-down motion, becoming automated like pistons. One-two-three-four-one-two-three-four-one-two-three-four...
Focusing so intently upon keeping up with Javari and Laki, Seshovi didn’t pay much attention at all to the whispered conversation the two were holding, several feet in front of her.
“I don’t like this, not at all," Javari said quietly, glancing back at the black-haired mage. “This search is taking much longer than I’d like, and we need to stop for a rest sometime. Very, very soon."
Laki looked at her with an expression she could not read. “Is that what you think?" he queried.
Javari stared at him, surprised. “What do you mean? She’s completely exhausted, worn out in every single way possible. We two may be able to keep going, but she is most certainly not! Not only is she a mage, which generally means that she in all probability will not have much strength, but she always has been extremely delicate. She will probably pass out at any moment, if we aren’t careful."
“It is true that she is very frail," Laki admitted. “But I believe that she is stronger than you give her credit for, Javari. Perhaps it’s because you’re so accustomed to watching out for her."
“I don’t know -" the mage-fighter began doubtfully.
Laki gently put his finger to her lips. “No. Listen. See the look in her eyes, how determined she is to find them. Sense how she has forged her will into iron to go on for as long as it takes. If we were to stop now, she would most likely realize that we’re stopping because of her. And it’s not only for the sake of preserving her spirit; every moment we paused to rest, though she needs it, the longer we would be separated from the other three and the more the danger would grow."
Javari’s green eyes focused briefly on Seshovi again. “I suppose you’re right, Laki. But," she cautioned, “I don’t like it. And if I feel that she’s on the verge of losing consciouness, I will stop and make her rest. No matter what you say."
"If that happens, of course we would have to stop." Laki brought Javari’s hand to his face and dropped a gentle kiss on her fingers. “Don’t worry. I will stay aware of her condition also."
Javari smiled at him and twined her fingers with his.
“Wait a moment."
Laki and Javari turned at the unexpected sound of Seshovi’s soft voice. Her head was cocked; she had a look of concentration on her face, as if straining to hear something.
"What is it?" Javari asked cautiously.
“I hear something."
Javari knew well from experience better than to doubt Seshovi’s extraordinary hearing. “What is it?"
The mage frowned as she strained her utmost to pick out the sound that she sought from the muted chorus of nocturnal forest animals. Damned breezes.
Gradually, her eyes widened until white showed all round her irises. To keep from disturbing her hearing, Javari sent her question as a curious thought: /What is it? What do you hear?/
For answer Seshovi rushed forward, all her previous exhaustion seemingly forgotten, to stand several feet in front of her two friends and look down the path. Then she turned to Laki and Javari quite deliberately, arm outstretched and finger pointing toward the right-most direction at a crossroads farther ahead in the path. “There," she said simply.
Laki and Javari did not need an explanation to detail the meaning of that single word. They ran down the path immediately, calling. “Rokan! Princess Veyome! Denan!"
* * *
Rokan and Denan trudged along, weary with hours and hours of hiking over rough ground. While Veyome had insisted on walking at first, arguing by saying that it would be good training for her - which was true, for she was learning to use a sword in addition to magic - she was not very strong yet, and she’d been barely able to stand after four hours or so.
At that point Rokan had lifted her in his arms despite her weak and breathless protests. Even with her light weight, a dull pain eventually began to pound through his shoulders and arms. He’d tried to remain stoic, but perhaps Denan had just sensed somehow that he was aching, for after about another two hours he had broken the flinty and almost unnerving silence that he usually maintained.
“I’ll take her."
Startled, Rokan stopped in his tracks and whirled to face the mercenary. “What?"
“I’ll take her,"Denan repeated. “You’re getting tired, aren’t you?"
“Well, yes," Rokan answered slowly. He shifted Veyome’s weight, then stepped to Denan’s side. “She’s sleeping," he remarked as he transferred the slumbering princess to Denan’s arms.
Veyome stirred and half-opened one eye. “Mmm?"
"It’s nothing," Rokan murmured soothingly, stroking her hair.
“Mm." She settled herself in the cradle of Denan’s arms, head pressed to his chest below his shoulder, and the two young men had resumed walking then.
Now Denan had his head craned upward and was squinting. “What is it?" Rokan questioned. “Do you see something up there?"
The swordfighter nodded his head toward a rather steep slope. Rokan, thinking of Veyome’s lack of climbing prowess, eyed it dubiously. Its rough dirt surface was strewn with gravel and jagged boulders and fallen branches. “Do you want to climb that?" he asked.
Denan shrugged eloquently. “I could just make out a path at its peak."
Rokan sighed. I keep forgetting how tall he is. “I suppose we should, then. In which case we should wake Veyome, and you can carry her on your back. That will be easier."
Denan nodded his acquiescence. Rokan waited a moment for him to wake Veyome, then realized that the swordfighter, having never had any contact with anyone of royalty, had absolutely no idea as to how he should address a princess (much less wake one from slumber).
It is one thing for him to simply carry a sleeping princess, and it is something else entirely to speak to one, Rokan reflected. He stepped forward and gently shook Veyome’s shoulder. “Veyome, skage-zesh," he crooned quietly, calling her by his affectionate nickname for her - wind-child. “Wake up."
“Hmm?" She opened one sleepy eye.
“You have to wake up now, love," he elaborated. “You need to wake up so Denan can carry you up the slope on his back."
With care, Denan set the princess on her feet. She rubbed her eyes and blinked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep. It must have been such trouble for you two to carry me.">
“It was all right," Rokan assured her. “You needed to rest, and we took turns. Besides, you’re really not heavy at all. Light as air."
Veyome inclined her head back to appraise the slope solemnly. “I suppose we should start climbing."
Rokan smiled at the expression of gravity that she had assumed. “Yes, I suppose so. But we –” he gestured to indicate himself and Denan “– are climbing. You are not."
“Why not?" she asked, tilting her head, a perplexed look on her face.
"You can’t. You’re not strong enough to do it, and you’ve never done any sort of hiking anyway."
“This would be good practice for me then!" she countered.
Rokan shook his head. “It’s far too difficult a climb for such a beginner, especially one who needs to develop more strength."
His voice quiet, Denan made a suggestion. “She wouldn’t have to climb the entire slope."
“What?"
Denan hesitated, then repeated, “She wouldn’t have to climb the entire slope."
Rokan’s gaze rested on Denan’s face for a moment, flitted up to the slope, darted to Veyome’s anxious face, and then went back and forth between the latter two for a minute or so. Veyome fidgeted nervously, winding her fingers round each other.
Then Rokan looked sternly at the Falshad princess and spoke, his tone just as unyielding as his expression. “All right. As your trainer and teacher, I have determined that you may climb a certain distance up this slope in order to gain experience in hiking and in order to strengthen you. You must follow me and take exactly the path I take, and when I say you must stop, you go no further. Is this clear?"
“Yes," Veyome answered very earnestly. Then she covered her hand with her mouth, trying to stifle a giggle. Rokan noticed and could only sustain his authoritarian façade for several more moments until he began laughing, and Veyome with him.
Denan just shook his head slightly. Then he cleared his thorat and proposed, “Perhaps we should start climbing now?"
Rokan nodded. “Yes. I’ll lead."
The three of them began climbing. Rokan picked out the safest and simplest route he could find, keeping a sharp ear for changes in Veyome’s breathing.
Determined to go as far as possible, Veyome followed him closely, careful not to make wasted movements if she could help it - wasted movements meant wasted breath. It’s fortunate that I’m wearing my training clothing, she thought. Her training clothing was a simple outfit of blue leggings and tunic, with worn brown armor over her shoulders and chest.
When Rokan could hear her just begin to struggle for breath, he waited several minutes, then announced casually, “All right, Veyome. You have to stop now."
The young princess didn’t protest, perhaps because she was too tired or simply too out of breath at the moment. Whatever the reason, she didn’t put up any sort of fight. Denan kneeled low, trying to bring his broad shoulders down from his great height enough for the small girl to climb on. Rokan, assessing the situation with a rather amused look on his face, kneeled behind Denan on one knee, laced his fingers together, and braced them on his thigh. “Step up," he told Veyome.
She looked at him, then at Denan’s wide back. Carefully, she stepped up onto Rokan’s hands, then got on Denan’s back - kicking Rokan’s face in the process - and quickly circled her arms around the mercenary’s neck, linking her hands. “Okay, I’m ready to go whenever you are," she declared.
As Denan slowly rose from his crouching position, Veyome glimpsed the bottom of the hill, now a considerable distance below, and realized that from this point onward she was going to be at least 3 feet above the ground on which she’d previously been walking. She ducked her head down against Denan’s back, hiding her face, and pressed herself closely to him, feeling that she was in quite a precarious position. “Let’s go," she said, her voice muffled and pitched slightly higher than normal, as she tried to sound optimistic and eager. Mentally she added, Before I lose my nerves.
Rokan grinned cheerfully. “All right, Denan, you lead now and set the pace."
As they neared the highest point of the rise, Veyome stirred. Stretching as straight as she could and capping her small hands round her mouth, she called, “Javari! Laki! Seshovi!"
“Do you think they’ll hear?"
“Well," Veyome began sweetly, staring at Rokan with narrowed eyes, “if you called their names as well, and we continued to call their names every so often, perhaps they would."
The young knight gave her a teasing smirk. “Yes, princess."
Veyome stuck her tongue out at him, then glanced down cautiously at the surface they had stopped on. “Oh, we’re on the path now. You can let me down."
Denan stooped to the ground wordlessly, and Veyome slid down until her feet were on the narrow road. As the mercenary straightened to his full height of six feet, four inches, and they all started walking, the princess beamed up at him. “Thank you very much."
He nodded. The child was not in the least disheartened by his silence; in fact, it seemed to encourage her to talk enough for the two of them. “This forest seemed so ominous at first, because it’s so dark, but now I can see that it’s really rather nice. From somewhere close by the scent of skashi flowers is drifting to us on that gentle and refreshing breeze, and I can hear some birds," she chattered gaily. “Is it all right if I hold your hand?" she queried, tilting her head and blinking wide, wide eyes up at Denan.
Rokan was smothering laughter during Veyome’s little speech as he watched Denan’s countenance lose its usual solemn, closed expression and gradually take on a look of utter bewilderment. Evidently, he’d never before in his life met such a vivacious child.
The tall swordfighter blinked, then shrugged, his expression once again somber as it usually was, except he had one eyebrow raised. Veyome smiled again and took his large, strong hand in her comparatively miniscule fingers, walking two or three steps with every long stride Denan took.
Rokan, ever protective of the princess to whom he had always been a brother, walked just behind her on her other side. He had to suppress an amused and affectionate smile at Veyome’s behavior. Most people would have been unaware that she saw Denan as anything more than an acquaintance, but for Rokan, who knew her so well, it took no effort whatsoever to realize that she was infatuated with the tall, staid mercenary.
The object of her affections himself was quite confused by Veyome. She’s so cheerful all the time, like Kala was, he thought. He blinked, realizing that the Falshad princess was gazing up at him with a bit of anxiety. He cleared his throat and asked quietly, “Is something wrong, princess?"
She had observed the pensive expression on his face. “What’s the matter?"
He was taken aback by the question. “Nothing."
“What were you thinking about, then?"
“Something past."
Veyome looked down at the path, solemn. “I’m sorry that I was intruding with my questions."
Denan smiled a little to himself. One could almost forget Veyome was a princess, with her cheerful attitude and child’s innocence, until she made an endearingly formal speech of some sort as she had just now. “No, it’s all right."
Immediately she tilted her head back to look up at him. “Oh! You smiled just now!" she cried, as if she’d made a joyful discovery. She laughed brightly. “You should smile more often."
He was somewhat astonished, both by her reaction and by her suggestion. “I should?"
Veyome nodded. “Yes. What made you smile?"
Hesitantly, he answered, “I was just thinking about someone. Someone who was like you."
“How so? That is, if you don’t mind my asking?"
"It’s all right." Denan looked up at the stark black branches of trees that seemed to tear the grey sky, remembering. “I was thinking of my younger sister. Her name was Kala. She didn’t look very much like you. She had blonde and brown hair, almost bronze in color, and dark brown eyes. But her eyes were like yours in that they were very wide and bright."
Veyome cocked her head, quiet as she seldom was. Denan decided to take this as a sign that he could carry on, and continued in his low voice. “Like you are, she was very cheerful, and she saw the good in everything. Rarely did she believe that the bad outweighed the good in anyone she knew - in fact, I don’t think she thought that of anybody she knew." He smiled slightly in fond remembrance. “She was also very small and slender, and she had a small oval face; we would tease her by calling her veka - elf."
Ah, Rokan thought, catching the foreign word. It sounds like he’s from Girala, then. That would explain his appearance and accent. Interesting.
“Kala was amazingly good-natured," Denan went on softly, his voice becoming gentler as he spoke on and on. “And she had an empathy for nearly everything that ever lived. She would come home with the injured and sick - beasts, birds, people. Sometimes the people were just children who needed to stay somewhere away from home for a night or two. We never refused anyone - we couldn’t, not with the way she could plead with her eyes, making us succumb with just a look." He chuckled a bit, startling Rokan.
Veyome just smiled. “Oh, she sounds so agreeable. I wish I could meet her." She paused, unsure of herself, then tentatively asked, “What happened to her?"
Denan was surprised by this display of perceptiveness. Slowly he answered. “Kala died seven years ago."
Veyome’s hand flew to her mouth; she stood still for a moment, stunned. Several feet behind them, Rokan was still and silent.
The princess broke the frozen tableau by impulsively embracing the tall swordfighter. “I’m sorry," she whispered, tears spilling down her face.
Denan was quite surprised; then the hard and tensed angles of his face relaxed slightly. Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder, then let his hand rest there. Quietly he said, “It’s all right."
“I’ll be your little sister, if you’d like that."
The mercenary’s dark, distant eyes softened, and the coolness thawed from his face completely. “I would."
“You could call me skage-zesh, like Rokan does. Or maybe something else." Veyome tilted her head back to look him fully in the face. The shimmering trails of tears still marked her cheeks; despite that, she was smiling. “I’d be very happy to be your sister." She squeezed her arms round him again, resting her cheek against his torso. “I can tell that you’re grieving. You don’t show it very much, but you carry it on your shoulders like a great burden," she explained earnestly. “I know it won’t ever fully leave you, because that’s not the kind of thing people can forget, but I want to lighten it for you.
“You shouldn’t keep such things to yourself," she went on, as the three of them began to walk again. “You can’t keep such powerful emotions bottled up - not forever, anyway. You should share them with at least one other person." She glanced up at him somberly.
“Why -" Denan hesitated, then decided to simply go ahead and ask. “Why do you want to help me?"
Veyome’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, why not? Why shouldn’t I - oh!" she cut herself off, looking rather distressed. “I’m so sorry. It’s really none of my business, but I keep intruding. I’m sorry."
Denan smiled a bit at her anxiety. “Really, it’s all right. I don’t mind at all. In fact –” he gently squeezed her hand in a rare and sudden burst of affection “– I appreciate it greatly. Thank you very much, princess."
Her eyes widened, and then she burst into a dazzling smile. “Oh, that makes me so glad."
“If you don’t mind my asking, princess...why do you want to help me?"
Veyome’s solemn gaze went down to the ground. “It saddens me to see you so hurt. I like you a great deal, Denan. I want to see you be happy. At least, I want to make your sadness less somehow, so you can be more ready for happiness when it comes."
“I see," Denan said slowly.
Veyome turned her face upward and saw the corners of his mouth curving up gradually. She was confused until she realized what he was doing and returned the smile with one of her own. His full smile is slow-growing, she thought, and it doesn’t come very often, since this is the first time I’ve seen it, but it’s wonderful.
From behind them came the sound of a man clearing his throat. “I hate to ruin this beautiful, tender moment, I really do," Rokan remarked, with just a hint of a smile on his face. “However, it seems that we will have visitors quite shortly."
“What do you mean?" Veyome asked quizzically.
The young knight gestured at the path in front of them with a sweep of his arm. “Listen."
All three of them stood motionless, barely breathing, and concentrated their hearing in the direction Rokan had indicated. They could hear a faint drumming sound slowly but steadily increasing in volume, pounding on the path, punctuated by the occasional crinkle as the unidentified being crushed a dry leaf.
Two high, brief, singing tones cut the air. Rokan and Denan had drawn their swords, and now they dropped easily into guard positions.
Veyome glanced askance at them. “I could try and set up an illusion," she offered tentatively. “An illusion of an army in wait for them here, maybe."
“Would there really be a point? It could be dangerous, especially if it’s a mage more powerful than you or one of the more dangerous magical creatures."
“Well, if it’s not a more powerful mage, and if it’s not a dangerous magical creature, then it could be useful. Especially if it were, oh, a sword fighter or other weapon-user without any experience in magic."
Rokan sighed, although he couldn’t help but be entertained by the fact that the small princess was so eager to attempt to assist. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t really hurt. I suppose the worst that could happen is that the mage or whatever-it-may-be would either drain the illusion, rendering it completely useless. Or they would throw it back at you, which really wouldn’t do very much damage because it’s only an illusion. Either way," he finished, “I suppose it would be all right."
Actually, an illusion could do a great deal of damage thrown back at you depending on the mage deflecting it, but it’s not as if I’d allow it to make contact with her.
Veyome smiled. “All right. I’ll do my best." Closing her eyes, she cupped her palms together and began to focus her fledgling magic.
“Veyome!" a blithe voice called. “You still need work on your illusions!"
Blank with shock, her vivid blue eyes flew open wide. Then she ran forward, yelling, in a voice thick with tears. “Javari! Javari!"
Laughing with relief, the blonde mage-fighter soon came running around a turn into sight, followed closely by Laki. Veyome, laughing and crying all at once with uncontained joy, embraced both of them tightly. Rokan and Denan followed the Falshad princess at a relatively stately pace, though they still were hurrying. Laki shook their hands enthusiastically, grinning, and Javari hugged them.
As Javari drew back from him, Rokan inquired, a hint of anxiety in his voice, “Where is Seshovi?" He seemed far more serious than he usually was.
Javari gestured at the path behind her vaguely. “She coming," she assured Rokan, then pointed out the mage just coming over a rise and round the curve in the path. “There she is. She’s rather weaker than most people, so she’s just pacing herself."
Rokan nodded and managed to completely stifle a cry as he saw Seshovi stumble, then right herself.
As she stood again, the mage’s awareness was still utterly centered on her feet. One-two-three-four-one-two-three-four. Glancing up from beneath lowered lashes, she saw that Javari and Laki had joined their missing companions. Almost there, she thought, and her pace quickened slightly. Impatiently she blinked tears of pain and fatigue away from her eyes.
As she approached the group, Rokan, who was nearest, couldn’t contain himself any longer. He turned and stepped towards her.
Within mere feet of them, Seshovi slipped again, her body tipping forward. Instinctively, Rokan took several quick steps, stretching out his arms to catch the pale, exhausted mage.
* * *
Her first waking thoughts were,We finally found them. Will I never have that dream again? I hope so.
She opened her eyes and blinked, temporarily blinded in the yellow light.>
Her friend bent over her upon seeing that she was awake, green eyes dark with concern now illuminated with relief. “I’m so glad you finally woke up." She stood, walked to the door, and stuck her head out, yelling, “Hey! Raven’s awake!"
As Danica sat back down, Raven grasped her hand urgently. “Danica."
“What is it?"
“It finally fucking ended."
Danica raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? What did?" How hard did she hit her head on the ground when she passed out...?
Raven realized that she probably sounded like she was babbling. “The dream, the dream," she elaborated. “The searching dream."
The confusion instantly cleared from Danica’s face. “Oh! What happ–” She stopped abruptly as several people burst into Raven’s bedroom.
“Raven! Raven! Are you all right?" Kiren queried anxiously.
“I’m fine, I’m fine."
Yash whistled. “Damn straight you are."
“Oh, shut up and stop hitting on her," Kiren snapped.
The handsome blonde winked at Raven, then grabbed Kiren by the shoulder, pulling him close. “If you like, I could hit on you instead," he murmured in the other boy’s ear. “I would enjoy it just as much."
“Damn it, Yash!" Kiren tore himself from his friend’s grasp.
Raven raised an eyebrow as Yash chuckled. Enmed spoke coolly. “Ignore him."
The girl in bed nodded, then slowly sat up. The room spun violently and she struggled against the urge to throw up. Danica, seeing her acute nausea, swiftly pushed Raven back down into the mattress. “Don’t sit up."
“Yes," Raven said breathlessly, sinking into the softness. For a moment or two she struggled for sufficient oxygen, gasping, then fell silent as she managed to fill her lungs. “Gods. Now I think I must have some idea of what it’s like to be an invalid."
Danica pressed a hand to Raven’s forehead. “Hmm. Still quite warm."
“Where am I?"
“Your house."
“What about my parents?"
“Well, when we brought you home, they were ready to cancel their plans, but we told them that you just needed rest and that we’d stay with you, so they left."
“Saa. All right." Raven frowned in thought. “Brought me here? Who carried me then? I didn’t wake up at all until just now."
Rakesh, sitting beside her bed across from Danica, answered her query. “I did."
Raven blinked in surprise, then remembered that she’d passed out just as Kiren had introduced the two of them to each other. Poor guy. I guess I fell onto him, and then he felt obliged to carry me. She cleared her throat and said, “Thank you for taking the trouble. I apologize."
He shrugged. “No problem."
Looking at the window, Raven glimpsed the darkness outside through the blinds. “What time is it?"
Kiren checked his watch. “It’s about seven."
The concert ended at 3:30, Raven thought. “Say what?! I’ve been out for over three fucking hours!"
“I guess so."
“Gods," Raven groaned. Something else occurred to her. “Hey, are all of you hungry?"
Yash’s lips curved in a seductive smile. “I know I am."
“Not that kind of hunger, sex freak," Enmed muttered.
"Is that so? Pity. Having a meal soon does sound good, though."
Enmed rolled his eyes.
“All right," Raven said, sitting up slowly. What do we have in the house? she wondered. Let’s see...I think we have everything for chicken pasta, with a salad - no, maybe steak would be better...
“Hold it!" Danica’s voice was sharp. “As much as I love your cooking, Raven, because it is amazingly delicious, I’m not letting you get up with the way you are. Lie back down. Now."
Raven looked at the expression on her friend’s face and complied wordlessly.
“All right, we need some food," Danica declared. “I’m calling for some pizza. Who wants to drive and pick it up?"
Yash shrugged. “I’ll get it," he offered. “Enmed, you’ll come along with me, right?"
“Whatever."
“Why, thank you."
“Fine." Danica disappeared from the room in search of a phone.
“Kiren, your girlfriend is very scary when she acts like that," Rakesh commented.
“Like what?" Kiren asked, sounding a little facetious.
“When she’s very pissed off, but doesn’t freak like usual, and instead talks very, very calmly. Like she just might explode at any moment. On you. And after the smoke clears, there will be nothing left of you except a small pile of ashes, if you’re lucky."
“Believe me, I know."
Raven chuckled wryly. “Yeah, she can be quite the bitch that way."
“How do you feel?"
“Honestly?"
“Yeah."
She didn’t mince words. “Like shit," she answered, shrugging.
Kiren scowled at her. “Hey, don’t act like it’s no big deal, because it is one, all right?"
Raven rolled her eyes. “Yes, father."
“Fifteen minutes, Yash," Danica announced as she re-entered the room.
“Is pizza the best thing for Raven right now?" Kiren questioned.
Danica folded her arms. “Look, I sure as hell can’t cook anything like Raven can. If you can, go right ahead and do it. I don’t see what’s wrong with pizza. She just needs food, period."
“Eesh, sorry."
Rakesh grinned at Kiren. “Oh, didn’t you know, pizza’s the best thing for her right now. A crunchy crust, gooey cheese, all slathered with grease. Throw in a soda, too."
Kiren rolled his eyes. “Great, now in addition to her killer headache we can give her a goddamned heart attack, because who knows how she’s gonna react to the pizza after seeing how she reacted to your ugly face."
“Hey!" the boy so offended exclaimed indignantly.
“No toppings," Danica promised her boyfriend.
"You don’t have to talk through me, Shazo," Raven pointed out in her usual dry tone. As he reddened and stared at her bedspread in sudden fascination, eyes tracing the seams, Raven added in a somewhat gentler voice, “Thanks for worrying ’bout me, though."
“You’re seriously scaring me."
Danica nodded her assent. “You’re not supposed to be sick. You’re the eternally healthy girl, as in you’ve never missed a day of school because you were sick, and you probably eat the healthiest diet of anybody I know, and you exercise, sort of. Yeah, you’ve had headaches before - I mean, who hasn’t - but a headache that makes you pass out? Not right."
Raven shrugged carelessly. “I’ll be fine tomorrow."
I don’t really think so, Rakesh thought. He could see the lamp’s light reflected in beads of sweat on Raven’s face. Beneath her dark skin she was alarmingly pale. Rakesh also noticed that she was gasping for breath to a certain extent - not enough to be alarming, but if one watched her, it was fairly noticeable.
“Hey, hasn’t it been fifteen minutes?" Raven queried. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I haven’t eaten since breakfast, so I’m a little hungry."
“What?" Danica exclaimed.
At the same time Kiren demanded, “Why the hell not? If you’ve been feeling bad all day then you shouldn’t skip a meal!"
“Well, sorry, Mommy and Daddy, didn’t feel like eating."
“Why?"
"Felt nauseated while I was cooking lunch."
Danica glared at Yash. “What are you standing there for? Get going and get the damn pizza!"
“All right, all right."
"Two mediums."
“Okay. Come on, Enmed."
The blue-haired boy eyed him darkly. “Why?"
"To keep me company, of course."
"You mean, so when we go inside, you can drape yourself all over me and pretend we’re gay to freak the hell out of the counter guy."
“Now, why would I do that?"
“Because you’re the most flamboyant playboy that ever lived."
“Well, that idea sounds fun," Yash murmured thoughtfully, smoothing down his hair.
Fumbling in her slim black wallet, Raven managed to extract a twenty-dollar bill, then held it up, trembling arm outstretched. “Yash."
“Hmm?" He turned toward her. “Oh, you don’t have to pay, love. I will."
“No. We’re in my house. If I could cook, I would, but apparently I am unable to, so I’ll pay to buy dinner." As Yash hesitated, Raven sighed impatiently. “Take the fucking money."
Yash raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “All right, babe. Thanks." He took the proffered bill, threw an arm round Enmed’s shoulders, and dragged him out the door. “We’ll be back soon!" he called cheerily.
Raven watched after him with a rather bemused look. “Why does he just...hit on everybody?"
Rakesh shrugged. “He just does."
“All right."
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