"Yes, I gathered that."
For a long moment Javier studied Kiram in silence. Then he looked down at his hands.
"So, this is how it has to be between us?"
"I think so." Kiram could no longer meet Javier's gaze. He looked down at his bare feet and at the coiling symbols on the floor. He wanted to say something else, to somehow tell Javier that if circumstances were different, then.
There was no point; the circumstances were exactly what they were.
He wished suddenly that he had never asked about Calixto's diary. The knowledge, like his desire for Javier, did him no good and yet he could not forget it.
"I have to find something else to write about for my history essay," Kiram said at last.
Javier walked back to his desk and sat down. He didn't pick up Calixto's diary. Instead he took out his penknife and cut a new tip for his quill. "f it has to be a biography, you might try Nusrat Kir-Miakah. He was the guide who escorted the Sagrada heir and his war master to safety all the way from the academy to the western hold."
"Was he Haldiim?"
Javier nodded. "There's a little biography on him filed with the hunting and trapping texts in the library."
"I'll read it. Thank you for-"
The rest of his words were drowned out by a loud beating against the door. An instant later Elezar shoved the door open and leaned in from the hallway, though he came no farther, since even he was hesitant to step into the room where Javier slept.
The arbitrary nature of Cadeleonians' superstition was absurd, Kiram thought. They would eat and wrestle, ride and fight with Javier but were terrified of what might lurk in a room where he slept, as if his dreams might leap out from under a pillow and grasp them. Normally Kiram found it all amusing, but this afternoon it only irritated him.
"No need to look so dour, my friend." Elezar's voice boomed through the room. "Master Ignacio has invited us out for a ride."
Kiram rolled his eyes. Javier said nothing but he pulled on his riding boots and began lacing them.
"A ride to the Goldenrod, no doubt," Kiram murmured. Elezar's ecstatic expression told him as much. A week ago Upperclassman Atreau had informed Kiram and Nestor that Master Ignacio's afternoon rides were, often as not, an excuse to visit prostitutes. Apparently, the war master had taken it upon himself to ensure that the older students' physical desires found release, lest they resort to desperate acts of abnormal carnality.
"Who knows how far we may wander in the pursuit of healthy male exercise," Elezar responded happily. "Don't be sullen about it, Kiram. Once you've been blooded in a tournament you may be asked out on a ride as well."
"I just can't wait," Kiram muttered.
He didn't watch Javier leave with Elezar. Instead he sat down at his desk and wrote a letter to his father assuring him that he was staying out of trouble and doing all he could to keep his grades up. After he was done with it, Kiram ripped it apart and threw the shreds into the cold grate of the fireplace.
Chapter Twelve
Battle practice with Javier the next day was incredibly difficult. Kiram struggled not to notice the heat of Javier's hands on his bare chest, or feel a thrill as the two of them grappled in the wrestling ring. More than once he completely lost his concentration while gazing at Javier's mouth and remembering his insistent kiss.
If the same desire troubled Javier, he gave very little indication of it. Only once, as Kiram arched beneath him struggling to break a hold did he notice a strange catch in Javier's breath. But then Javier pinned him down-hard- against the mat and stepped back, calm and collected.
Kiram wondered at Javier's ability to so completely sublimate his desire. Of course, being Cadeleonian, he'd doubtless had a lifetime of practice. There was also the fact that he, unlike Kiram, could turn to the prostitutes at the Goldenrod for relief.
That night Kiram left the Hellions' table early and found respite in the cold pistons and bolts in his work shed. He returned to the room he shared with Javier just before the night warden rang the last bell.
If Javier thought anything of Kiram's absence he said nothing and Kiram guessed that Javier understood that keeping a distance between them was for the best.
The next day Kiram claimed illness to avoid another frustrating battle practice, but that only resulted in Javier appearing in the infirmary to inform him that they would now have to make up for the practice on Sacreday-just the two of them and Master Ignacio.
From Javier's scowl Kiram knew he'd made a poor decision and even Scholar Donamillo shook his head, as if nothing good could come of a private session with Master Ignacio.
He had not feigned sickness again. Instead he got through the next week of battle practice by focusing on his technique. He met Javier's gaze as little as possible and took care not to stand close when they weren't training. Up in their shared room during the evening hours, Kiram found himself staring at Javier and obsessively brooding on the memory of his touch. Every time Javier glanced up from reading, Kiram felt the blood rise in his face.
If he stayed here, he was going to make a fool of himself, or worse, endanger his entire future. He had to distract himself from Javier's effortless temptations.
He spent the next two weeks in self-imposed exile in his work shed assembling his Crown Challenge mechanism. Each night he wandered back to the dormitory exhausted and simply dropped down to his mattress, still reeking of gear oil and ash. Twice he missed curfew while struggling with the proportions of his steam chambers. The night warden dragged him up to his room and threatened to report him if it happened a third time before slamming the door and leaving him fumbling toward his bed in the dark.
"Only an idiot would get himself caned for a mechanism." Javier's voice floated through the stillness.
"I'm not an idiot," Kiram assured him.
"Then don't act like one." Javier sounded petulant and Kiram wished he could see his expression. "Ybu don't have to hide from me. I'm not going to attack you."
"I know." Kiram pressed his face into his pillow. "But who's to say I won't assault you?"
Javier's soft laugh was the last thing Kiram remembered before he fell asleep.
The next afternoon Javier and most of the other Hellions went riding with Master Ignacio. Kiram knew he had no right to resent the excursion, and yet he did. He decided a walk would do him good. He chose the path through the orchard.
The crisp autumn air was colder than the more southerly climate Kiram was used to. Many of the apples in the orchard were turning gold and red. They reminded Kiram of the sunset skies over Anacleto. It had been a long while since he had simply walked among the trees and felt the ground beneath his feet. He was half tempted to pull off his boots as he would have in one of the sacred groves at home, but he wasn't among Haldiim and any Cadeleonians coming across him would probably think he was suffering from a brain fever.
Kiram contented himself to walk along the white pebble path that cut through the orchard and curled around the chapel. He listened to the songs of birds and crickets and tried not to feel homesick. He'd chosen to come to the academy, knowing that it would be strange and challenging, he reminded himself. This was what he wanted-what he needed to do, if he was going to prove himself.
Distantly he heard the gurgle of the stream and the voices of first-year students splashing through the cold water. As he wandered, the apple trees thinned to stands of white birch and oaks. Sprays of wildflowers and brambleberry bushes spread between the trees.
Then he came across a delicate, wrought iron fence and beyond this a wide field of red clover and gravestones. The two graves nearest Kiram were engraved with doves and the words Loyal and Faithful. Kiram couldn't help but think that the words seemed more appropriate to pets than to people. A third grave was inscribed with a Cadeleonian woman's name and the designation of Academy Cook. Kiram wasn't sure if the dates below represented her lifespan or the duration of her employment.