Brave Face

 

All week long, Tenma held himself firmly in check. Watch and see—that was the way to get by. He would go with the flow, giving himself time to grow accustomed to the stranger parts of school life at New Saga. Quen was very kind, if in a distracted way. For all the importance of his connections, the young Starmark wasn’t very … industrious. It was already clear that they were counting on Isla to carry the group.

The girl was so poised. And unfailingly polite. Maybe he should be more embarrassed to be tutored by a girl of twelve, but she’d been quite happy to start him at square one. Her lunchtime lectures were easily his favorite part of the day.

He was getting by. And yet he was disappointed. And maybe that was unreasonable. What had he expected?

Tenma checked his empty mailbox. He kept his eyes on the floor as he crossed the student center. And when he saw others waiting for the elevator, he ducked into the stairwell. For the exercise, of course.

Sluggish steps eventually carried him to the dormitory’s top floor, to the door of the room his parents had paid extra to secure for him. He knew it was their way of showing they cared, but it also showed how little they understood him.

Tenma had spent most of his life in an ultra-streamlined apartment that echoed slightly. His older brother was away at university, carrying their father’s highest hopes. Their mother had been the secretary for a CEO for more than twenty years. Her boss considered her indispensable and paid her well, but he also monopolized most of her time. When Tenma’s family came home after their chaotic days, they found respite in the hush and spare décor. For them, the restraint and stillness were soothing.

Leaving Tenma the only unhappy one.

He’d always stuck close to home, yet he’d felt homesick his whole life. As if he belonged somewhere else. He craved something that his family couldn’t understand, and their contentment had left him lonesome.

Which is why their parting gift was in such poor taste. A room to himself.

They’d spared no expense to prolong his solitary existence—white walls, cool gray stone underfoot, and a distant skylight. His corner suite boasted views of Keishi to the south and east, an efficiency kitchen, and a tiny water closet. Father probably thought he’d want to avoid the dining hall and communal bathing facility. The furnishings Mother ordered in had all the warmth of an office lobby—icy grays, stark chrome, and glass.

The only spot of color was a flyer for the Star Festival, which he’d found tucked into a bag from the convenience store. Glossy and bright. Its array of starry pinwheels was so shockingly cheerful, tacking it up had felt like an act of rebellion.

Tenma dropped onto his bed and turned his head to watch a patch of sunlight creep across the wall. The pattern of panes stretched. Maybe he should read in the student center. He might still be alone, but he could watch the groups that gathered there. Read ahead a bit farther in his textbooks. And keep an eye out for Kith and Ephemera.

Now, there was an idea.

They’d been introduced to the school’s Kith shelter earlier that week. Many of the Rivven beasts were intimidatingly large, but they were also gentle and intelligent. He’d been invited to stroke a wolf’s shaggy pelt, and he’d had his hair lipped by a soft-eyed mare. Maybe the person in charge could use some help in the pens—freshening bedding or brushing coats.

Mind made up, Tenma hurried to change out of his uniform.
 

Eloquence knew every nook and knot of the New Saga campus. These lands had belonged to his father for centuries, but at Hisoka Twineshaft’s suggestion, the Starmark clan had ceded a generous section for the needed buildings. And allowed the peaceful encroachment of many clans. Although theirs was an eclectic, changing mix, Quen wondered if this newest venture finally qualified their compound as an enclave.

He ran through the forest, keeping to a pace that was barely polite. Quen was missing dinner, but this was his only chance to get to the school’s Kith shelter without Ever noticing his absence. Because Uncle Laud had oh, so casually announced that their dogs—the Starmark Kith—were disappointed in Eloquence.

What had he done?

His primary role in the Starmark clan was speaker for their Kith. Quen might not be the most hardworking soul, but he’d never once shirked his duty to his packmates, never once earned their censure. So he would track down the source of their complaint and tend to it. Quickly and quietly. Before word reached Dad. Quen wouldn’t put it past his father to use it as an excuse to put off his attainment.

Unthinkable.

Slowing as he approached the entrance, he inclined his head to the pair of felines guarding the back gate. They sprawled languidly across the entrance, reminiscent of ginger housecats, but much, much larger. Whiskers quivered, and the female’s eyes narrowed, but her attitude hinted at amusement.

More confused than before, Eloquence slipped into the courtyard.

New Saga’s Kith shelter was a series of deep alcoves, shaded pens, and sheltered roosts lining a circular courtyard at the rear of the school grounds. Even though the center was open to the sky, overhangs and awnings kept the sun and rain out, and high walls checked the wind. He’d helped with the plans, and he’d shared in the labor alongside his brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles.

It was quiet. Not a whiff of trouble. Then why…?

Here he comes.

Flay’s voice rang clearly in Eloquence’s mind. He could hear their Kith; any member of the dog clans could. Wolves, too, given their close kinship.

My eyes may be dim, but my nose works.

That was Edge, bondmate to Flay. These Kith had been companions of Father’s when he was a youth, and the centuries had turned their muzzles white. 

Hurry along. You must see my new pup.

She sounded happy. Flay was the sort to dote on every little thing.

“Have you adopted another barn cat?” Eloquence ducked inside the alcove they’d claimed for their den.

Nestles like a lost kitten. Edge’s tail thumped the straw. About time you found him.

For shame. But Flay’s tone couldn’t have been gentler. As if she didn’t want to wake the figure huddled at her flank.

This one understands the need for pack, said Edge.

For shame, repeated Flay. To place your seal upon him, then leave him so lonely.

“You can tell the ward is mine?”  Eloquence had realized Tenma was there as soon as he rounded the corner. His nose worked, too. But he was surprised the Kith had interpreted the simple barrier he’d created for the boy as a mark of belonging. That had never been his intention.

Yet his classmate curled tightly at his feet—glasses crooked, salt upon his cheeks, wholly unguarded. Now that he was paying attention, Eloquence decided that Tenma’s scent had a wistful quality. “Has he spoken to you?”

Freely. Flay nosed the boy’s hair. He finds us good listeners.

Meaning he’d been a poor one. Hadn’t Tenma been running late and redolent of straw that morning? “How many times has he slept here?”

Last night. Tonight if you abandon him.

“I deserved that,” Quen sighed. “Thank you for getting my attention.”

Edge stuck to practical matters. He needs a better den.

And a better friend. Eloquence sank to his knees and gently shook his classmate’s shoulder. “Tenma. Wake up, Tenma.”

The boy rolled away from Flay’s warmth and stared muzzily through off-kilter lenses. “Quen?” he mumbled. “Umm … hi?”

“Why are you bedded down with my Kith?”

“Umm.” Tenma snatched back the hand tangled in Flay’s red-brown fur. “Yours?”

Eloquence sat beside him. “Edge and Flay are part of the Starmark clan. They’re my packmates.”

“Sorry.” Color was creeping into the boy’s face. “I didn’t think anyone would mind.”

Plucking straw from Tenma’s hair, Quen promised, “They don’t. They like you. In fact, you have their protection.”

“Aren’t they here to guard the school? They protect everyone.”

He was fully awake now, but his guard was still down. Or maybe Quen’s was. “They’ve decided you’re special.”

“I’m not.” He seemed to shrink. “Not me.”

Flay growled. Edge whined. And Eloquence was ashamed of himself. Choosing words that would leave them each a little pride, he asked, “Will you hear me out?”

Tenma nodded.

“I’m having trouble balancing the responsibilities I have at school with those of the den. Perhaps you could help me?” Quen brought his hands together, as if to capture an elusive midivar. “Bringing the two together might give me some peace.”

“If I can help, I will.” Tenma tentatively reinforced his words by cupping his hands under Quen’s. “How?”

“Come home with me. Meet my brother.”