“Why do they have to be our enemies? The world is too small and too fragile to have enemies.”
She shrugged. “Yourfather sits on the College of Ministers, an oligarch of Appalachia;minedoes not. Ask him.”
Soren straightened, his gray eyes hardening to granite. “One day, I’ll take his place. With power and influence, I’ll see things change.”
Krystal crossed to him, brushing his cheek with a gentle touch. “Wewill see things change. Come eat, husband. I’ll be leaving soon for the library and then basketball practice.” She took his hand, guiding him to his feet. “Can you pick up the cleaning before having a drink with your friends down at Hernando’s?”
He followed her to the table. “Sure, but I might not go. I should study and paint—paint eloquent equations and algorithms in resplendent colors that will pave my way to power.”
She placed a steaming plate before Soren and sat beside him at the corner of the small table. “Good. I’ll call my friend Neville from psychology to come over around eight. He’s more of a lover than a fighter too, if you get my drift.” She snuck a glance at him as she forked in a bite of potatoes. “I think you’ll get along splendidly.”
“What do I have in common with a psychology student?” he asked, already formulating the unique painting in his mind’s eye.
“Soren.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, catching his full attention. “You can’t pine over that farmer forever. I’m your wife, and it’s my job to ensure you’re happy and successful. You rise, I rise, remember?”
Her meaning smacked Soren between the eyes, and he blushed. “Oh.”
“I swear,” she said with an affectionate laugh. “You geniuses are all alike. A billion revved-up brain cells, yet no clue what lies right in front of your nose. I’ll be having fun. It’s only fair you are as well.”
Soren laughed and shook his head. He thought Krystal must be the perfect wife. “I told Nathan he should stay. If he’d have ended up with half the wife I was blessed with—”
“Uh, uh, uh,” she chided, wagging a finger at him. “That traitor left you, defected to our enemy. If he thought half as much about you as you do him, don’t you think he would have stayed?”
Her words arrested Soren, and he paused to consider them.
“We have first loves for a reason,” she explained. “They teach us what we like, what we don’t like, what to do and not do for a relationship to last. First loves are simply that—firstloves, notonlyloves. Do you think Nathan sits around at night dreaming of you? He’s moved on, I say. You need to do the same.”
“You’re probably right.” Soren’s appetite, his thrill of accomplishment, his plans of orchestrating change all drifted away, like clouds on a breeze, leaving him empty. “Neville, you say?”
Krystal grinned. “He’s perfect for you. He plays the guitar and sings, and he’s quite handsome, in an effeminate kind of way. Sorry, he isn’t brawny like Nathan, but that’s what you have me for. Besides, someone entirely different who you won’t be comparing with your ex is exactly what the doctor ordered.”
Soren rubbed his temple. “OK, invite him over. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt just to meet the guy.”
This felt all kinds of strange, having his wife fix him up with another man. But when you have a boat sailing this smoothly, why rock it? What if Nathanhasmoved on? He could be banging another man right now and enjoying it. The thought hardened Soren’s heart, creating jealousy and bitterness over a fictional account … or maybe not. Who knew?
The Republic has invaded Verdancia.It still seemed unreal.I’ll ask my father about it … tomorrow.
“Excellent!” Krystal exclaimed, taking her empty plate from the table. “I’ll probably make it home, but, if not, you can fix yourself breakfast. Or …” She passed by Soren, where he sat with half his meal still on the plate, and brushed his shoulders. In a teasingly wicked tone, she whispered in his ear, “Get Neville to make it for you.”
With a quick kiss on his cheek, Krystal—who had at some point changed into a black and silver warmup suit—tugged her gym bag over her shoulder and padded to the door in her athletic shoes. With a flip of her unfashionably long and bouncy tawny mane, she left him to his deliberations.
Professor Sakamoto said I was special, talented. I can make a difference, and I don’t need Nathan to do it. He ran off to Verdancia. That was his choice. Well, I have choices too, and I choose to give this guy a chance. Krystal is the best psychology student at the institute, so if she picked him for me, there must be a reason.Soren took his plate to the kitchen, making a mental list of things to do before Neville arrived at eight. Showering was on the list.
Chapter sixteen
Soil and Ashes
A farm outside Nelanta, Verdancia
Sweat rolled down Nathan’s back as he pushed a wheelbarrow loaded with corncobs, scraps, and past-prime produce through muddy ruts. He supposed the straw hat over his sandy curls helped.
“Moo!” Several interested cows drifted toward him, stopped short by the stone wall and split-rails lining the pasture. A dusty mule hung its head over the fence on his opposite side, while a billy goat bleated nearby.
“This isn’t for you,” Nathan told the hopeful animals. “I’m takin’ it to the hogs, so stop your bellyaching. Go eat some grass.” He trudged on, steadying the unbalanced pushcart as it lurched over a hole in the road between the pastures.
The mule blew out a bray, and the cows watched in silence, the brightness fading from their eyes. The billy goat strutted along the fence beside him, continuing his loud “baaaa!” Nathan had to hand it to old Sarge, as Mr. Thatcher called him. He was a bossy goat, so the name fit.
Holdfast Farm, one of several surrounding Meadowgate—a small agricultural hamlet a stone’s throw from Nelanta’s northwestern edge—specialized in livestock. Not just one kind, but a varied assortment kept in natural settings, pastures shaded by oak and pecan trees. The chicken yards, with long coops to protect the birds overnight, stood nearest the human buildings, while thehogs—and their odor—lived in reinforced pens on the edge of the forest, where they enjoyed a shallow pool and ample cover. The cattle and horses rotated pastures, granting each the height of grass they preferred, while the goats, impossible to contain, grazed wherever they pleased. Walls and fences held no meaning to the leaping, wiggling escape artists. Nathan was sure that only the promise of apples and pets kept them on the farm.