Page 8 of Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
“Sorry! Didn’t notice you there!” he exclaimed, hands upraised.
Wolves reallydidtravel in packs, even here. And his remark stung more than it should have. As a reaver, she’d never had much presence.
“Oh, little sister. I’m as rude as I am clumsy.” Light brown eyes wide, tail tucking, he reached for her hand. Then dropped it as if burned. He babbled to himself in another language, then switched back to Japanese. “I don’t remember if I’m allowed to touch.”
His accent was decidedly American.
Kimiko quickly signaled to reassure him and enunciated carefully. “Local citizens will shy away from the familiarity, but reavers will understand.” Taking his hand between hers, she shyly added, “Brother wolf.”
The Amaranthine’s tail swayed, and Kimiko’s heart swelled. He seemed like such a nice guy.
He glanced along the hall, where his two packmates waited. All three of the young wolves were quite tall, broad in the shoulder, with ebony skin and shaggy black hair. He called to them in English, and their posture shifted to indicate patience. And amusement.
With more confidence, he gathered both her hands into his own. “Ploom-ret Nightspangle, but everyone calls me Ploom.”
“I’m Kimiko Miyabe, and I’mfine, Ploom. Go ahead with your packmates. We all need to get to class.”
Bending until they were nose-to-nose, he softly repeated, “Kimiko Miyabe. I will remember.”
“Find me anytime.”
His fangs flashed in a grateful grin before he hurried away.
She followed more slowly, but not so far back that she didn’t see which classroom the Nightspangle contingent entered. They were in Class 3-C.
The same as her.
Kimiko stepped through the classroom door and sized up the milling students. They looked like a bunch of middle schoolers at their first mixer. Only instead of boys on one end and girls on the other, their class had divided neatly into thirds.
All the Amaranthine stood at the front of the room; humans clustered at the back. And reavers fanned out between them, assuming their traditional role as gatekeepers, guardians, and go-betweens. Kimiko crossed to the long row of windows and, finding the sill wide enough, perched there to see what might happen next.
Moments later, a stocky, graying woman in a willow-green tunic strolled in and smiled sweetly. “Welcome again to New Saga! I’m Ms. Reeves, and I’ll be your homeroom teacher. My reaver designation is diplomat, and it will be my pleasure to guide your learning this year.”
Kimiko tried to place her accent, though it was faint. A lot of diplomats spent their internships in Belgium, so maybe French? She wondered if travel had contributed to the woman’s air of confident competence. Must be nice.
Ms. Reeves surveyed them, blue eyes taking on a shine. “First things first, we must overcome all this shyness. We’ll be sorting you into triads.”
“What’s a triad?” called one of the girls from the tight cluster at the back.
Their teacher acknowledged the question with a nod. “You’ll be dividing into integrated groups of three. Those representing the general populace, please take a seat at one of the tables.”
A few students moved to obey, spreading out.
Kimiko was used to classrooms with long rows of single desks, but this one almost looked like a restaurant, with comfortable seats arranged around three-sided tables. She was paying attention to other differences now. High ceilings, windows lining two walls, smooth wood underfoot, and an utter lack of light fixtures. Hanging baskets filled two corners of the room with greenery, and … yes, she was quite sure she caught a brief flutter and flash of Ephemera hiding amidst the leaves.
“One each, please,” Ms. Reeves called when two girls tried to stick together. “Since triads will remain together for the duration of the year, I will ask our Amaranthine students to decide who they would like as a partner.”
“Do Rivven always get to pick first?”
Kimiko flinched at the popular—if improper—word choice, but the boy seemed more curious than anything.
“The correct term isAmaranthine,” Ms. Reeves said firmly. “And yes. This is both a matter of courtesy and necessity. The Amaranthine will make their decision based on different criteria than you might expect. Things no human can sense or alter.”
“Like scent,” offered one of the reaver girls. “And the clarity and resonance of our souls.”
“Yes.” Ms. Reeves signaled to her inhuman students while she talked. “When you are chosen, it will be because your classmate thinks they can make lasting peace with you.”
Another hand popped up. “What do we do after we find a match?”
