Incarnate (8 page)

SAM WALKED ME back upstairs as sleepiness threatened to engulf me.

The exterior wall made me uneasy, so he dragged the bed across the room until it rested in the corner of two interior walls. Then I climbed up while Sam tried — unsuccessfully — to hide dust on the floor where the bed had been.

“The first thing I want you to learn about music is that you have to hear everything.” He sat in a chair at the desk, while I perched on the corner of my bed. “This is something I started doing every lifetime to retrain myself. Close your eyes and listen to all the sounds at once, especially those that are hard to hear.”

Like I was going to do that in front of him. I just nodded.

“You can hear the cavies and chickens, the noises they make. You can hear the wind in the trees, and everything in the house. Pay attention to each sound all at once, and one at a time.”

“That
sounds
like a lot of work.”

He grinned. “Well, it is. But having a good ear is an important part of music, and it’s easiest to train yourself while you’re young.” He crossed the room toward me. “I’ve always enjoyed how everything is slightly different in every life. Raspier or deeper, warmer or kinder. Some bodies were harder to train. Some had better hearing.”

I hoped I got to experience that.

“Once, I wasn’t able to hear at all.”

But I didn’t want that. I almost asked how he’d coped — a lifetime without music — but he yawned, reminding me he was probably tired, too. I slipped under the covers.

“Good night,” he murmured as my eyes fell closed. He leaned toward me, so near I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, and I waited for whatever came next.

Nothing did.

He sighed and left the room, and I lay there, suddenly too awake to sleep. There was no reason for me to imagine him kissing my forehead, or remember the way he’d touched my arm by the piano. He was Sam.

That was it. He was
Dossam
. Of course I was going to think about stupid things now.

I lay in bed and listened to him move about the house, and after a while, he paused outside my bedroom. His silhouette darkened the silk wall for a moment before he padded down the stairs, almost silently, and the front door shut. Locked.

I sat up and glanced toward my window, but it faced the wrong direction. We’d been walking all day.
I
sure didn’t want to go anywhere, though I was awfully tempted to sneak after him. I’d need a flashlight; he’d spot me and be angry.

It was after midnight when he returned, muttering something — I strained my ears — about wasting time with genealogies. I didn’t know much about those because Cris’s old books weren’t explicit, and Li hadn’t bothered answering my questions. I did know that genealogies were the best-kept books in the library, because they needed to be referenced so often. The Council was careful about approving who could have children — something about genetic defects and constant danger of inbreeding. Bleh. Not something I cared to learn about.

None of that explained why Sam had gone to the library in the middle of the night. If that was where he’d gone. Maybe he’d forgotten who his parents were this life, and just needed to look it up. I couldn’t imagine trying to keep track.

Swimming in thoughts, I drifted into unrestful sleep, though it was my first night in a real bed in a week — and my first night ever in a bed that had been repaired in the last hundred years. I should have tried to enjoy it, but I could only think about all the strange things that had happened since arriving in Heart — and about Sam.

In the morning, getting dressed took some work. Sam must have been taller than me as a woman, and bustier. A dress that probably fallen knee-length on him came to mid-calf on me. Using a small sewing kit in the desk, I adjusted the shoulders and took in places to account for my smaller endowments.

Clean clothes and a bath had done wonders. Nevertheless, my bones felt as if they creaked when I tiptoed downstairs and started a pot of coffee.

Sam’s kitchen was big — well, small compared to the parlor — with spacious stone counters along one side, and a rosewood table on the other. Though everything still had a delicate appearance, it was probably hundreds of years old, and very sturdy.

The back door revealed several outbuildings for cavies and chickens, a small greenhouse, and storage sheds. Sunrise here was… different. The sky lit up first, along with the treetops, and it seemed forever before the rays slanted over the wall. More watery, less honey golden. Another something-not-quite-right about Heart.

If Sam hadn’t gasped, I wouldn’t have heard him in the kitchen doorway behind me. I spun to see him staring, like he hadn’t expected to find me still here. Or— It was hard to tell. I still couldn’t interpret his expressions well.

“What?” I pretended I’d assumed something different entirely. “Surprised I know how to make coffee? I watched you do it enough.”

That seemed to snap him out of the stupor. “Not at all.” He shuffled toward the coffeepot, rubbing his cheek. His skin was smooth now, newly shaven, and it made him appear younger. “The light caught your hair. It looked red, like flame.”

That was a weird thing for him to say, and not necessarily good or bad. Why couldn’t he just speak in ways I’d understand?

I shut the door and leaned against it while he poured coffee for both of us, adding generous spoonfuls of honey. Then he handed a mug to me as if we did this every morning.

But in reality, all our mornings — until we began the walk to Heart — had been him feeding me and helping me wash.

I’d told him about my infatuation with Dossam. With him.

I gulped down coffee, hoping if he noticed my cheeks were red, he’d assume it was my drink. All the times he helped me clean up, take care of embarrassing things — and there I’d been hoping he would kiss my forehead last night.

I thudded onto the nearest chair. Sam followed, only the length of the table between us. He kept his face down, but I could half see him watching me through dark strands of hair. When he noticed that I wasn’t fooled, he turned his gaze out the window so light poured across his skin.

I wanted to ask where he’d gone last night. Instead, my words came out, “You look pensive,” like my mouth was saving me at the last second. If he’d been sneaking, I wasn’t supposed to know.

His scowl deepened. “How can you tell?”

“You get a wrinkle. Right here.” I dragged my forefinger between my eyes. “If you keep at it, your face will stick that way.” I pressed my hands over my mouth, a traitor after all. “Guess wrinkles don’t matter to you.”

He sipped his coffee.

“And now you’re thinking too hard about how to respond to my stupidity. Have to be polite, don’t you?”

“You’re really aggressive this morning. Coffee makes you mean.” He leaned back in his chair, wood creaking as his weight shifted. “Or did I do something offensive?”

“No, I’m just annoyed.” I stood and crossed my arms. “I said something stupid, and you didn’t even react. You don’t care. You’re too calm, even when you should be mad or happy.”

Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Too calm?”

“Yes!” I stalked around the kitchen, looking everywhere but at him; he’d only make it worse. “When something happens, you sit back and ponder it. You don’t act.”

“Eventually I do.” His tone shifted, lightened like he enjoyed taunting me. “So you don’t think you’re just impulsive?”

I halted, glared. “Impulsive?”

“You know the word, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He really thought I was stupid, didn’t he?

“It’s just,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken, “you’re so young and sometimes I forget what you do and don’t know.”

My chest hurt, like he’d hit me square against the heart.

I spun and marched toward the back door. Sam lurched to his feet and caught my wrist, my waist, and even though his grip was gentle, I didn’t have the energy to wrestle away.

“See? Impulsive.” He smiled and didn’t loosen his hold. “But I didn’t mean to push so hard.”

I bit my lip, trying to catch up. Always trying to catch up. “So you didn’t mean that?”

“Oh, I absolutely did. But not,” he added as I drew back, “the part about you knowing words. I only meant the impulsive part.”

“I’m a passionate person, that’s all.”

His mouth turned up in a sly smile.

“If I only get one life, I don’t want to waste it by hesitating.” I stepped away from him, and his hands slid off my hips. “After all, Sam, when was the last time you gave in to your passions?”

“Every time I play music or write a new melody.”

“What about the last time you did something that scared you?” I shook my head. “I mean, not rescuing drowning girls or saving them from sylph. Something else. Something actually scary.”

He wore the thinking line again, long enough to make me wonder about all the secrets he wouldn’t tell me. The secrets were his real fears, and whatever he said next would be to humor me.

“Last night,” he whispered. “When you saw everything in the parlor and I played for you.”

As if someone like him got nervous about playing music for a nosoul. “You already knew how I felt about music. What about something you didn’t know you were perfect at, or how it would be received?” I stepped close to him, so close my neck hurt from keeping his gaze, and so close I could feel heat from his body. “When was the last time you were impulsive, Sam?”

I willed him to know what I wanted, focused so hard on it that for a moment I believed he was already kissing me. I didn’t care where he’d been last night, or that he’d pulled back from kissing my forehead. If he kissed me now… He hadn’t told me he was Dossam until he could show me properly. This could be like that, if he felt anything for me. His expression was something I imagined mirrored mine.

For that moment, standing so close I could practically hear his heartbeat, I wanted nothing as much as I wanted him to kiss me.

The light shifted, and so did something in his eyes. Decision. One that made him lean away from me, and lower his gaze.

“Sam?” I turned away as my vision blurred. “You think too much.”

“I know.”

WE STOOD IN the middle of the kitchen without speaking for what seemed like eons. The stinging in my eyes kept me staring at the coffee cups on the table, steam rising, and he probably knew it. If he’d had any decency, he’d excuse himself to use the washroom or something, give me a chance to beat my embarrassment into submission.

I’d thought— Well, with the way he’d touched my arm last night, I’d thought this was my chance to find out whether he saw me as more than a butterfly.

Maybe I already had.

The front door opened and closed, and footsteps sounded through the parlor. Quickly, I chafed my fingertips under my eyes. Stupid tears. Stupid Sam. I could still feel echoes of his hands on my hips.

“Dossam?” A melodic, feminine voice came from the parlor, and she stopped in the doorway. Tall, slim, with perfect blond hair that framed her suntanned face. An ankle-length dress clung to her curves, making me extra aware of how my dress didn’t fit me right in the bust and waist. “I’d heard you came back early, and with a friend.” Her smile glanced off me and hit Sam as she sauntered into the kitchen, synthetic silk swishing around her legs.

He hugged her and kissed her cheek like nothing had just happened. Almost happened. No, actually, nothing had happened. “Stef, this is Ana.”

She was older than us, with a delicate web of lines around her eyes and mouth from years of smiling. My cheeks burned from thinking about kissing him earlier, and the easy way he stood beside her now. They made a gorgeous pair.

“Hello,” I managed. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Sam’s best friend, creator of the SED and other electronics, and well-beloved troublemaker who spent a fair amount of time picking prison locks after the latest hijinks gone wrong. It might be wrong to hate Stef because she was a woman this time around, but seeing Sam embrace her like he wouldn’t me—

I didn’t care.

Before I could stop her, she’d wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek, too. “Is something wrong, dear? You’re a little red around the eyes.”

“No, nothing. Just a long night.” I retreated toward my coffee. The kitchen had suddenly shrunk. Stef’s presence filled the room, leaving no space for anyone else.

“I bet I know.” Stef glided toward the cupboard and coffeepot to help herself. “Did Sam step on your foot?”

“What?”

She winked at me. “I have
stories
to tell you, Ana. All the times he stepped on my feet? You’ll either get used to Sam’s gracelessness, or give up dancing altogether.”

Sam echoed my question. “What are you talking about?”

“You
were
teaching her how to dance, weren’t you? Isn’t that why you were both standing in the middle of the kitchen while your coffee gets cold?” She took a sip from her mug, eyebrows raised. “I assumed this had something to do with Tera and Ash’s rededication coming up.”

“Oh, that. Right.” Sam slid back into his chair with his coffee. Dark hair half covered his eyes, and he had to shake his head to clear his vision. “Just a few weeks.”

Stef gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Yes. Which is why you were teaching Ana to dance. But clearly you were doing a terrible job. Look at her!”

They both looked at me.

I avoided Sam’s eyes. “It’s not his fault.” It was definitely his fault, but I had to lie because I didn’t actually know what kind of dancer he was. “I couldn’t do it right. My feet and head aren’t connected.”

Stef laughed and set her coffee on the counter again. “Of course they are. You just need the right teacher. Now, what was he trying to teach you?”

As if I had the smallest clue.

“Ah, I can see Sam didn’t even bother to tell you.” She winked again and turned to him. “Darling, go play some music. We’ll figure it out.”

He took one last drink of his coffee before abandoning it. “Be careful with her hands. They’re still healing.”

She took my wrist so quickly I didn’t have time to back away; her hands were smooth and cool, unlike mine, which felt sweaty. “So they are. Don’t worry, Dossam, I’ll be careful with her.” And then, when Sam left the room, she leaned close and murmured, “Don’t let him break your heart, sweetie. He never settles.”

Before I could get more than a word out—“What?”—Sam began playing, and Stef swept me across the kitchen. For someone so lithe, she was
strong
.

“First thing,” Stef said over the piano, “is to relax. You’re doing this to have fun, not hurt yourself.”

The song was one I’d heard a recording of in Sam’s cabin, so when Stef said to step on the beat, I knew which one she meant. When she said twirl here, and demonstrated, I mimicked that too. Music filled the house, and the lightning-fast notes made me
want
to dance. I did everything Stef did, and when I did it incorrectly, she took my arms and placed them where they should be, or nudged my foot with hers.

When the first piece ended, Sam went right into the next. It was fast, too, but the beats came at different times from the first.

“Count,” Stef said. “One, two, three. No four. Not on this one.”

Connections snapped in my head, and when I tried to mimic her movements, my body obeyed. Hips, arms, legs. Step here, here, and here. Giddiness surged through me as we finished the dance and she called for him to do that one again.

“Do you remember it?” She grinned as the music began. “You can do this dance for any song with this beat. Simply adjust to the tempo. Ready?” She didn’t wait for me to answer, just started dancing, every motion fluid but precise. Hair whipped around as I followed her, flashes of blond and red in the corners of my vision. My body remembered what to do, how to move to this song. Our dresses flared as we spun and circled each other. It was hard to be angry or jealous like this. Maybe she wasn’t so bad.

When the music ended, I was sweaty and breathing hard, but smiling. Stef looked smug.

“Now what?” Sam peered in from the other room, his expression carefully blank as he watched us. “Another one?”

Stef glanced at me as she smoothed back her hair; she wasn’t even sweating. “I think that’s enough for today. I’ll come back tomorrow, so clear space in the parlor, because the kitchen is no place to dance. We’ll try a different one. Slower maybe. It’s a dedication of souls, you know. It won’t be all spinning around until you can’t stand up. Ana might find someone nice to dance with.”

“Hmm.” Sam returned to the kitchen, still not looking at me.

I took several deep breaths before sitting again, letting the dance-induced euphoria leak out. “What’s a dedication of souls?”

“Ah, leave it to Sam to forget to explain.” She kept up the charade, though I was certain we all knew she getting revenge for something. For what she’d walked in on earlier? “Some people believe souls were made as matching pairs. It can take time for them to realize or grow into their roles as lovers, but eventually the matches find each other. They dedicate their souls to each other for every life. And because everyone likes a party, they rededicate every time they’re reborn.”

“That’s really sweet.” I took a drink of my cold coffee, trying to imagine loving someone so much I’d want to spend thousands of years with them.

“Yes, some people think so.” She slid into the chair between Sam and me. “But the real fun of the rededication is the masquerade. See, the idea is that when you passionately love someone and feel like your souls are a matched pair, you should be able to find that soul, and love them, no matter what body they’re in. We all get told who’s who when they’re born, of course, so when it comes time for the rededication, everyone dresses up in costume.”

I nodded slowly. “Because you should be able to find your match when you can’t tell who you’re looking at.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re not supposed to tell anyone what you’re going as,” Sam said, “especially if you’re the ones dedicating. But people usually do. It’s embarrassing if you end up dancing with the wrong person by the end.”

“I’m sure.”

“At least you don’t have to wait through all the speeches if they get it wrong.” Stef grinned.

“Guess what Stef’s favorite part is,” Sam muttered. “But there’s more than just dancing and the two hunting around for their match. There’s—”

“Don’t spoil it for her, Dossam.” Stef waved his words into nothingness. “Everyone is invited. Let her see when she gets there.”

Well, I hadn’t been invited into the city. The Council could say no masquerade for me, and I’d be stuck inside while everyone else went to have fun. I bit my lip. “Have either of you had a ceremony of your own?”

“No,” they both said, and Stef continued, “It’s very rare, and most people aren’t even sure matching souls are real. But they like the party. There’s always lots of food and drinks, and it’s a wonderful excuse to dress up.”

“You both usually go?”

“Stef dances. I play music.”

I tried not to smile at the thought of Sam playing music. Like last night. “Were you going to come back from your cabin to play?”

“Depending on how much work I finished.” He shrugged, speaking mostly to the window. “There are lots of recordings they could have used. But since I’m here, maybe I’ll bring the big piano from the warehouse, or see if I can get Sarit, Whit, and some of the others to play with me. I know you won’t.” He nodded at Stef.

“Let them use the recordings.” Stef drank the last of her coffee. “Dress up and dance. You might have fun.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t like the idea of asking people to prove their eternal love for everyone else.”

“Do it for Ana. Don’t you want her to have fun?” There was a tone about her voice, not the same flirty teasing as before, that made me think she wasn’t really asking on my behalf.

If Sam noticed, he didn’t react. He studied me, and I studied my coffee cup, and after a minute he said again, “Maybe.”

“Well, Ana’s going to dance.” Stef beamed at me. “Story has it that when you meet your match, it’s usually at a dedication, because you’re not seeing what body someone is in. You’re drawn to their soul. Maybe someone’s been waiting for her.”

“Unlikely.” I forced a smile, trying to keep my tone pleasant. “It sounds like fun, but… just fun.”

Stef pouted, and Sam chuckled and said, “Ana is the most cynical person I’ve ever met.” Then, for an instant, things were right between us.

“But you’ll go?” she asked me, and I nodded. “Do you know how to sew? Everyone’s responsible for their own costumes, and you’re not supposed to tell anyone what it is, but if you need help, you let me know.”

“I know how to sew.” I’d spent enough time altering Li’s old clothes to fit me.

“Excellent. Well then, I’d better go. I’m sure you have a lot to do today. I heard about the incident in the guard station yesterday.”

“Yes,” Sam said, checking the time, “we need to take care of a few things at the Councilhouse.”

I stood, happy to have an excuse to go away. “I’d better change into something less sweaty.” After we’d said good-byes, and Stef promised — or threatened — to see me tomorrow for another dance lesson, I headed upstairs and stopped on the balcony when I heard Sam’s low voice.

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know the details when I recognize that look. I’ve seen it enough times.”

“That’s unfair.” His shoulders were slumped when I stretched to peer over the balcony rail, and I almost felt bad for him. Stef had to be the most formidable person I’d ever met, besides Li. “They made me her guardian. Neither of us wanted that, but there’s so much going on—”

“Figure it out, Dossam. I don’t want to see her like that again.” She squeezed his arm and left.