Arabesque: A Wings Companion

Chapter Eight

The sky was a murky evening orange, but there was enough light to see the pale blue house—one in a long row of similar buildings, each a different color. Why were human houses always so tall? Rowen approved of the colors and pretty eaves each house sported, and many boasted sprawling vines and flowering window-boxes, but there weren't nearly enough windows. Human houses never had enough windows.

Still, Chelsea's home suited Rowen's personal preferences more than many of the dwellings she'd seen so far in the city. Chelsea herself answered the door with a cheerful exclamation and a hug for Tamani. She stepped forward as though to embrace Rowen as well, but Rowen took a step back without conscious intent and then felt bad when Chelsea's expression revealed hurt feelings. Before Rowen could cobble together some sort of apology—any words at all, really—Tamani was covering her gaffe by shuffling them all inside.

A large man stood from a chair at their arrival, and though Rowen had to swallow down a pang of fear at the sight of his furry, bear-like face, she managed to smile when Chelsea introduced him as her husband, Jason.

"Today was the big day?" Chelsea asked, directing the question to Rowen. But she sounded ... hesitant. Probably because of the awkward moment on the porch.

Rowen nodded silently, feeling both exhausted and grumpy, while Tamani shook Jason's hand and smacked his shoulder. "We were at Scazio all day," he said in explanation.

Jason made a whistling noise between his teeth; Rowen was immediately jealous of the ability. "Scazio, eh? Good luck to you."

Rowen averted her eyes.

"Jason's sister used to dance," Chelsea said, pointing them through a doorway. "So he knows more about it than I do."

"She made it to the top six today," Tamani said, and Rowen couldn't help but smile at the pride in his voice. "They said they'll be in touch."

"Did they say when?" Chelsea asked.

"No, but classes start in two weeks, so it'll have to be soon, I imagine," Tamani said.

"Well, I'm so glad you two are spending the night," Chelsea beckoned them toward a couch. "We've hardly seen you since Laurel took leave this spring."

"All the better to fake a pregnancy, I'm afraid."

"She hasn't stooped to wearing a fake belly, has she?" Chelsea asked.

Tamani laughed as Rowen sank into the couch, utterly baffled but grateful to sit down. After sitting in the car for half an hour her legs somehow felt more tired rather than less. What kind of people made windowless dance studios, anyway? Rowen needed the sun.

"No, sprouts come in the season when they're ready, so there's no way to time something like that." Tamani leaned forward, grinning. "Imagine looking eight-months pregnant for six months."

But Chelsea snapped sober. "That would be a problem," she said very seriously. "What are you doing instead?"

"Only you would consider this a real problem." Tamani sat back and waved a hand in the air. "She's just staying close to home. Avoiding company, which is usually her preference anyway. Nothing to hide from her parents, nothing to hide from her best friend. And she's on the land—it was always easier to conceal things there anyway."

As they prattled on about things of no meaning or importance to Rowen, she pulled her knees up to her chest and studied the person Chelsea had introduced as Jason. It was so odd to see hair growing right out of his face. And he didn't seem embarrassed in the least.