ELIA

Two days later, Elia and Gahrye walked the trails together. They had done it every day after breakfast, and Elia hoped it would become a habit. She was learning a lot, and Gahrye was a fun companion, and very intelligent. And he spoke to her like she was…human. Though she supposed that was the wrong term to use here in Anima. He spoke to her like she mattered. And not as if she were a child. She hadn’t realized how much she felt inadequate around these people.

As they followed the twisting path between the trees and she marveled again at the community that lived among the branches, they passed a merchant carrying a large basket of obviously handmade bowls and cups. They were beautiful, and Elia almost stopped the man. But when he reached them on the path, he looked sideways at Gahrye and stepped out to give them a wide berth as he passed.

Elia frowned at him, but Gahrye ignored it. “Why did he do that?” she asked, stopping on the path to look back at the man, who was now hurrying away from them.

Gahrye tugged at her elbow and muttered, “Ignore it. I do.”

“Ignore what? Why did he act like that? Like you were… sick, or something?”

Gahrye shrugged and squinted at the path ahead, not meeting her eyes. “He’s one of the old men. They have a different way of viewing the world. Much more superstitious. Anima in general are very wary of anyone different. And I’m… different. Off. I even smell wrong. So they’re all careful around me. But the older guys… they think there’s something wrong with me.”

Elia put a hand to his upper arm. “I’m so sorry! I can’t believe he acted like that. What do you mean, you smell wrong? I don’t smell anything on you—and trust me, some of these people stink so even I can smell them.”

They both laughed, but Gahrye’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t get involved, Elia. You’ve got your own journey to walk. You won’t change the old Anima. But… when you’ve been accepted, just remember those of us in your people who are different.”

“What are you talking about? I’m different!” she said.

“You’re also Reth’s mate,” he said dryly, then sniffed. “Or at least, you will be soon. Trust me, that fact alone covers a multitude of sins.”

“So what you’re saying is, you need to find a good wife and then they’ll stop treating you like you have the plague?” she said quietly.

But Gahrye’s face flattened. “I’d settle for any wife at all.”

“But you’re only nineteen!”

“If I was normal I would have mated last year,” he said, his face dark.

“But Reth—”

“Reth is the King, he took the crown right at the age of mating, but was so busy, no one really thought about it for a while. So he got away with it. But even he came under pressure—why do you think we had the Rite?”

“Because that’s how royals get their mates, isn’t it?”

Gahrye laughed. “Ten generations ago, maybe,” he said. “But Reth could have taken a mate any time he pleased. The Rite is political. A back up plan for when the Royal can’t choose, or wants to make a political marriage. The people insisted upon it because he was so far past the normal age of mating… I think some of the mothers were worried he might not ever do it on his own. It wasn’t like he hurt for female company…” he trailed off as he realized who he was talking to.

Elia folded her arms. “It’s okay. I know he’s… popular.”

“But he’s never even hinted at choosing a mate before, Elia. There’s something different between you two. I’ve never seen him attend a female like he does to you. Mating for the sheer pleasure of it, and taking a mate–joining your lives–are two very different things in Anima. He has something special for you.”

“Oh really?” she asked dryly. “Where was the special attention, Gahrye? Was that when he was leaving me alone at breakfast, or taking off in the middle of the night to beat up some lion?”

Gahrye snorted and flapped a hand at her. “Those are just things Kings have to do. You’ll see. That’s his life. Not the way he thinks and feels personally. He does those things because he knows he has to. And, I think he kind of likes being needed. But the way he touches you and keeps you close, the light in his eyes when he looks at you—that’s new. I’ve never seen that before.”

They walked on, both silent in their thoughts until Elia turned back to him. “You observe a lot about people who don’t know you’re watching, don’t you?”

He shrugged again. “When you’re different, you learn to be good at reading people. You have to be—the wrong kind of attention can come at any time.”

Elia sighed. “I don’t get it. What is it about you that’s so different? You seem perfectly normal to me! The most normal person I’ve met here!”

Gahrye groaned. “Says the human, who’s never stepped foot in Anima before.”

“Fine, so explain it to me. You’re good at this. Teach me. Tell me what’s so different about you so I can learn to be judgey and cruel like the others, then reject you for my new friends.”

He grinned, but his heart was obviously heavy as he spoke. “I am Equine,” he said, indicating his thick body and slim legs and arms. Elia nodded. “Equine are usually either warriors or merchants—we’re strong, good runners, we read the winds—which means both that we can scent subtle changes on people, but also that we can read individuals, read a crowd. We make good advisors—and good… well, you would call them salespeople.” Elia thought of Behryn and felt like she better understood why Reth relied on him so heavily. “We’re also beautiful,” he said sadly, “in our beast forms. The only Anima who often transform because we enjoy it and it allows us to travel quickly. From what I gather, we keep our heads better in our beast forms, too.”

Elia’s mouth had dropped open. “B-beast forms?”

“Well, I can’t speak for myself, but… it seems like most Equine still remember who they are when they shift—which many Anima don’t. At least, not in detail.”

“Shift into… beast form? You can—”

“No,” he said darkly. “That’s the problem. I can’t transform,” he said, the words tight and hushed. “I am the only Equine who can’t. I’m a freak.” Then he turned to look at Elia, whose face was still wide with shock. He frowned. “What?”

“You can… transform?”

“No, weren’t you listening: I can’t. I’m a freak.”

Elia swallowed and flapped a hand, trying to find the words. “But… the others… the other Equines?”

Gahrye frowned hard and tilted his head. “Anima, Elia. All the Anima have a beast form. Another body that’s—wait, you didn’t know this?”

“No,” she said faintly, “I didn’t.”