Kiron thought about verifying that, then thought better of it. This was shaping up to be a lovers’ quarrel, or at least, almost a lovers’ quarrel, and he knew better than to put himself in the middle of something like that.
Neither side would welcome his interference, and both might turn on him. He’d seen that before.
So he shouldered his burden of green hide and meat and walked around the walkway on the other side of the pen, trying to look as if he wasn’t even aware the two of them were there. Either the ploy worked, or else they elected to ignore him the same way he was ignoring them, because neither of them looked at him as he edged sideways through the entrance. Avatre, of course, could not care less who was in her pen as long as she was left alone to flop down onto the hot sand and bask before the sun went down. She was full, quite happy, and all was right with her world. If two humans, neither of whom was her rider, wished to make mouth sounds at each other, so long as they got out of the way when she rolled over, they could do so wherever they wished.
Kiron breathed a sigh of relief as he got out of sight. He might not be out of danger yet, but at least Ari was going to have to deal with Nofret first before the older man came down on Kiron.
He never did learn what Nofret said to Ari, nor what Ari said to Nofret. Whatever it was, when Ari caught up with him, later—much later—that evening, it wasn’t to give Kiron a dressing-down.
Kiron was looking forward to joining the wing in Lord Ya-tiren’s kitchen, which was where he and the others were all taking their evening meals these days. After delivering his load to Gan, whose green dragon Khaleph had not had a particularly successful hunt, he had gone checking on all of the new boys with their new eggs, making sure they had been turning the eggs properly, and listening at each one for signs that all was right within. Satisfied that everything was going along exactly as it should, he joined the rest for the evening meal with Lord Ya-tiren’s household. Normally, he and the rest ate with the servants rather than the family; it seemed enough of an imposition to have Lord Ya-tiren’s servants preparing their food without also inflicting themselves on the family as well. Besides, Kiron had the feeling that falconer Kalen, cat keeper Pe-atep, and baker’s son Huras, all common-born, would feel very uncomfortable at the table of a nobleman—and never mind that they were all, from highest to lowest, actually eating the same diet. He had set the standard by insisting on eating at the kitchen, and the others had simply followed his lead—even Orest and Aket-ten, even though it was their father’s kitchen they were eating in. “It’s all politics with Father,” Orest explained after the first few evenings. “It’s generally him and Ari, Nofret and Marit, and Lord Khumun and Kaleth, and sometimes the priests from Tia, all politicking and planning. Look, I just want them to tell me what they want me to do, and I’ll do it. Just don’t make me sit there until my head aches, listening to them!”
Kiron didn’t blame him, and Aket-ten must have felt the same, since she joined all of them as well almost every night. It was a particularly jovial evening; even with the possibility of Ari’s wrath descending on him, Kiron enjoyed it. The extra hunting that he and Aket-ten had done had made it possible for the household to have meat this evening, and it had been very pleasant to enjoy the sort of meal he’d gotten used to in the Jousters’ Compounds of both Tia and Alta.
And when Ari joined them after the torches were lit, which was at the point that they were just about finished with their meal, though he looked worried and a little unsettled, he didn’t immediately seize Kiron and haul him away. Instead, he sat down with them, got a jar of beer and a bit of honeyed bread from the cook, and glumly started eating, only to stop after the first few mouthfuls.
“Nofret will be going out to stay with Coresan and her eggs—and later her dragonets—from now on until she bonds with one herself,” he said abruptly. “Since that’s in Kiron’s territory, I expect him to keep an eye on her, but I’d like the rest of you to try to do the same in turn. I know it will be difficult, but it’s the season of the rains, so it should be a bit cooler here in the desert, and I hope not so hard to stay out all day.”
Orest blinked. “Ah—” he began. “You’re going to keep watch also, aren’t you?”
“I . . . I will,” Ari said, with exaggerated care. “But I don’t want to give her the impression that I am being—over-protective.”
Kiron braced himself, expecting one of them—probably Orest, who had all the tact of a charging river horse—to say something disastrous. But instead, Gan gave Ari an understanding look, poked Orest in the ribs with an elbow just as Orest was opening his mouth, and said smoothly, “Nofret’s determined to have a dragon; that’s not a bad idea. Among our people, the two Queens rule as equals with the Kings, or at least, they have until this last sorry lot. I could have thought of easier ways to get her one, but women and cats will do as they please, Ari, and men and hounds just have to endure it. Why don’t you and I go join Heklatis as soon as we’ve finished eating? He may have some ideas to help keep her safe out there.”
Orest gave him an indignant look, opened his mouth again, and on his other side, Oset-re stepped hard on his foot, smiling as he did so.
Ari looked up at that with faint frown—then smiled. “You know, that might not be a bad idea.”
Kiron heaved a sigh of relief that he hoped he managed to hide. Let Gan—who had had so many affairs with girls that they were practically stumbling over each other on their way to and from his bed—and Heklatis, who although he was not minded to women, still had a very great deal of sexual experience, romantic and otherwise—sort Ari out. He was still trying to figure out how to tell if Aket-ten thought of him as a friend, a kind of surrogate brother, or something else entirely. She was never less than friendly, but—well, serfs weren’t encouraged to think of girls, even if he’d been old enough to be interested while he lived in Tia. And afterward—well, in Alta, he’d been frantically busy, and anyway, Aket-ten hadn’t spent any great amount of time with him until the Magi took an interest in her. And at that point, he was concentrating on how to keep her safe, rather than how he felt about her, or she about him.
He hoped she had begun to look upon him as a great deal more than a friend and surrogate brother, but she was not exactly forthcoming about how she felt, and while she was very good at reading animals’ minds, she was curiously blind to the reactions of people around her.
Or at least, she didn’t act as if she knew what he was thinking.
Yes, he reminded himself, as he got up from the table and headed back to Avatre’s pen in the darkness. But I don’t know what I’m thinking, so I shouldn’t expect her to, now, should I?
All he knew for certain was that he would rather be in Aket-ten’s company than out of it. That when he was around her, his skin felt as if it had a life of his own. And that he would often lie at night under the stars, looking up at them, and feeling ridiculously happy to know she was probably gazing at the same stars.
But he had no idea if she felt the same, if she would react poorly if she knew how he felt, or, perhaps most importantly, how her father would react. He was only a farmer’s son; she was a noble’s daughter. And while the present circumstances had made them more equal, they were not actually equal, and it was impossible, for him at least, to forget that.