Page 16 of Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
“Akira, I’ll befine.” Isla bowed again to their teacher and strode purposefully to their table to offer her hands. “Will you accept my presence, Eloquence Starmark?”
“Gladly.” Her hands were so small beneath his that he kept his touch light. “I am certain Tenma Subaru will have need of your expertise.”
She turned to their human counterpart with an expectant smile. “You have questions?”
Tenma looked nearly as wary of Isla as he’d been of the Amaranthine. Leaning forward and lowering his voice, he asked, “How oldareyou?”
Isla drew herself up. “I’m twelve.”
“But this isthirdyear. High school, third year.” He fidgeted in his seat. “Aren’t you supposed to be eighteen?”
“I’ll eventually be eighteen.” After a brief assessment, she dragged their third chair around and placed it on the other side of Tenma. “I completed my coursework at Ingress Academy, but there aren’t many jobs for a twelve-year-old diplomat. So I’ve been assigned to this class.”
“Are you some kind of reaver prodigy?” Tenma asked.
“Let’s just say I’m good at my job.”
She favored them with a smile that Quen found achingly familiar. Ward. Of course. He’d known her father when Michael was this age. He’d been just as brilliant, just as sure of himself. Did Twineshaft know of their connection? Probably. Michael had been one of the cat’s special favorites while he was teaching at Ingress Academy.
Fingers tugged at his sleeve, and he refocused on his companions. “Yes?”
“Please, call me Isla. Both of you. No honorifics.”
“I’ll try,” said Tenma, who may have been blushing. “And you can use my given name, too.”
They both turned to him, Isla expectant, Tenma tentative. So he reached for their hands and closed his fingers around their wrists. Their heartbeats leapt under his touch, a joyous beat. His touch was welcome. Their trust was his. “Isla. Tenma. You may call me Quen.”
After lunch and a lengthy explanation of cleaning duties, upcoming club activities, and the following day’s visit to the Kith shelter, Ms. Reeves called for everyone’s attention. “Our final order of business will be the selection of our class representatives. This is a human custom, similar to the election a spokesperson. The position is voluntary. Three of you will serve as both leader and liaison for your peers. Let’s begin with our Amaranthine representative.”
As she outlined the role’s responsibilities, Quen groaned inwardly. The last thing he needed were more duties that would keep him from home … and from Ever. A swift flicker of movement passed through the room, and Quen slouched gratefully in his chair.
Hanoo-fel stood. “We are agreed. I will represent the Amaranthine.”
One of the human students raised his hand. “How did you decide? And so fast! Can you read each other’s minds?”
“No.” Hanoo plainly made the gesture for a negative answer. “Not at all.”
“Sign language?”
Ms. Reeves said, “Some of our lessons will include nonverbal communication. Until then, have your partners teach you some basics. But we’d all benefit from a demonstration. May I ask the Amaranthine to show us how you reached your decision?”
Quen stifled a sigh and stood with the others, since he’d been part of the process.
Hanoo’s posture shifted, and he flicked a finger. But this time, he also narrated the gesture. “What do you think we should do?”
The bear rolled his wrist and curled two fingers. “All choices are good. Which is best?”
Ploom’s fingers darted. “Who has the years?”
“The years are mine,” said Quen, slowly replaying his gestures. “But I defer.”
One of the horses brought her hands together. “A stronger voice than mine.”
Yoota’s stance changed, and he indicated his packmates. “A wolf understands pack. One of us, surely.”
“Hanoo-fel already has their trust,” said Quen. “Let him thunder.”
Laughter rippled through the room.
