the kitchen with Kole’s food.
Dammit.
5 Kole
What a pleasant day it was, absolutely perfect for sitting outside and reading a book. I had my copy of Luna’s Guide to Shift Control, an old but unmatched textbook on the art of expressing isolated parts of a shift to master energy transfer—such as morphing only your hands to paws, or your ears, or even as controlled as one’s sense of touch or smell. Really interesting stuff, and so much fun.
As I sat and waited for my order, I tried testing the techniques from the book, popping out my wolf ears for a moment, then just my eyes, and allowing a bloom of fur to cover my face. I reverted everything to human and chuckled to myself with delight.
Bright sunlight beamed down onto me as the sun moved out from behind a building, basking me in both warmth and glare. I squinted. It was reflecting into my glasses and I could hardly see a thing. Suddenly, a shadow cut the light and I looked up in surprise to see Markos standing next to me, holding his hand in front of my face to shade me. He smiled, and I felt a very odd sensation in my chest.
“Hi there,” he said. “I’ve got your order here. One Vitar white tea—very good choice, by the way—and a pesto pasta salad.”
He put the tray onto the table and placed the plate of pasta and the cup in front of me, all while keeping his hand up to block the sun.
“Hi,” I said, suddenly blanking out and forgetting how to speak.
“Glad to see you back again,” said Markos.
I cleared my throat and fixed my glasses. “I was curious about your tea selection.” I picked up the cup and drew a breath. Though it was plain tea, it had a sweet, nectary smell, like honey. I took a sip—it was light, crisp, and delicious. “I’m very surprised you have this one,” I went on. “Vitar tea is difficult to come by, isn’t it?”
“Only available in bear country,” Markos said with a grin. “With the trade restrictions it certainly is a rare tea, but it’s one of the best. I had to make sure I carried it. Hold on. Let me get you an umbrella. Get the sun off your eyes.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, I—”
But he was already gone, and a few minutes later returned lugging a large patio umbrella under one arm, the heavy base gripped in the other hand. He’d rolled up his sleeves, and I watched as he set it up, twisting the umbrella into its base and twisting in the screws with his hands. For some reason, I couldn't keep my eyes off of his forearms—they tensed and bulged hypnotically as he tightened the screws, and I wondered to myself why I’d never realized forearms were so attractive before.
It was a weird thought to have, and I quieted it with a sip of my tea and a bite of the pasta salad.
Markos got to his feet and cranked the handle to open up the umbrella. My table now had a beautiful circle of shade—and was the only table that had been afforded that luxury. Next to me, an old man squinted at his newspaper as he tried to shade his eyes with his free hand.
“How’s the salad?” Markos asked. “I make that fresh every morning. Local ingredients from the Mir farmer’s market. I—"
“Excuse me, sir,” the old man said in a shaky voice. “Do you have any more of those umbrellas? It’s quite bright…”
Markos looked around, and only then seemed to notice all the other tables of people who were having their eyeballs punished by the sun. “Oh,” he said, his mouth slightly ajar. “Yes, of course.” He turned back to me. “Uh, I’ll be back.”
I nodded and did my best to withhold a laugh. Markos hurried off again and a moment later was back looking like a lumberjack with three large umbrellas balanced over his shoulder like tree trunks. He set them up around the other tables and then came back to me, his forehead dotted with sweat and a goofy grin on his face.
“There we go,” he said. “Uh, what was I saying? Oh, the salad. Yeah, fresh ingredients from the farmer’s market.”
“It’s very tasty,” I said.
“Thank you. By the way, I’m glad you came by today. I wanted to ask you some questions about the whole, uh, reader divination dating agent thing. Last night, Elise told me that she wants