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Twyla
The weekend market was a small affair, at least according to Royal One standards. There were about thirty stalls—including Cedra’s—lining the streets, with different produce on sale. All of the vendors seemed to be renting their stall decor from the same supplier as they were each a simple synthi-wood affair with a display table and a roof to protect sellers from the surprising heat. I recalled the markets that my nannies used to take me to as a child, rife with colors and treats and toys. This was vastly different. Very...minimal.
Cedra got to work quickly, as though this were second nature to her. I found myself working a little slower, fiddling with the pesky ties of the sack cartons much too long before they popped open.
True to her word, Cedra had maintained a cool distance from me over the past few days. She no longer asked me to join her for meals. In fact, she barely spent any time eating in the kitchen or smoking her pipe in the living area. Last night, she’d grabbed her bowl of stew and retreated to her bedroom after dusk. I don’t think she’d even looked at me when she murmured her thank-you.
That left me alone in the semi-dark house, sketching dress designs aimlessly on the e-reader. I hadn’t been sleeping well. My body felt restless and overheated; my core was still red and swollen. I was so unsatisfied that it wasn’t even funny.
“Grains for 1 credit per pound. All other produce for 0.5 credit per pound. Milk is free for those with babies.”
She spoke briskly as she stacked the corn on the display case. She’d taken off her work shirt and simply wore her white undershirt and black work pants in the heat. A cap was slung low on her forehead, and I could barely see her eyes behind the shade.
I couldn’t help but watch her muscles bunch under her ministrations. It was almost hypnotic. I barely registered the potatoes in my hands or the heat that pervaded our booth under the little slanted roof of the stalls.
I wanted to close my eyes and imagine the way those arms felt around me—tight, unyielding...supportive. I could be weak with her. I knew it. She was strong enough to hold me.
She looked up at me briefly and I jerked back into motion.
“Free milk for babies. Yes, got it.”
I winced at my unconvincing tone as I stacked the produce in neat little piles. I wasn’t even done with my task before the crowds started arriving.
I didn’t have much time to ogle Cedra after that. I hadn’t realized how taxing the farmer’s market was from the other side of the table...how had Cedra done this alone every week? The thought alone was certainly impressive.
The morning was an...experience. I’d never seen so many hybrids in one place at once. Royal One was a mixing pot of cultures and people, but hybrids were a rarity. I wasn’t sure why, since Royal One was known for its abundance of opportunities for anyone who dared to brave its bustling pavements. Despite the pull many felt to the Star, hybrid people tended to settle farther away from large cities and create small communities rather than build up into the sky like Royals did. I smiled briefly, taking in the happy families with young ones running about, couples taking a stroll, mothers just out for a quick shop.
I was fascinated by their modifications. True, I’d studied the mods in detail in university but that didn’t compare to the experience of it. The Beast people, in particular, were intriguing. They wore their hair long in thick braids which would be impossible to put a comb through. And at the base of their temples were two pointed horns, kind of like rams’ horns I’d seen in docu-videos. I found it a little amusing that they wore caps with little holes cut out to accommodate the pointed tips. The ladies had smaller, thicker horns while the men had long (and a little scary) pointed ones. My studies had taught me that they could make their body hair disappear and appear on command. An interesting trait indeed, even though I’d yet to see it.
I was briefly distracted watching a Beast family walk by; their little one had candy stuck in her thick dark hair and was wailing her lungs out. I smothered a laugh as I watched her father try his best to soothe her while her mother yanked at the sticky pink round sweet.
A loud feline purr brought my attention back to the stall—a loud purr that was someone’s name.
“Cedraaaa...”
I felt my eyes narrow immediately.
Standing in front of the stall was a slip of a platinum blonde girl. As I watched, her nose twitched as she batted her long lashes at Cedra. A Felin.They were known for their catlike beauty and waspish temperament.
My studies didn’t tell me that I’d feel just like the potato I was selling while standing near one. Because she was truly ethereal.
She wore a shimmery white dress that exposed just the tops of her breasts—modest enough, I suppose, but a little too fancy for the farmer’s market. I myself was wearing the long off-white dress from yesterday with the tie knotted loosely around my waist.
The pearls in her ears told me that she came from a little more money than most people around these parts.
I didn’t like her.
“Dione,” Cedra acknowledged her. “How are you today?”
“Goooood.”
Was anything she said not a purr?
“The usual?” Cedra asked, hands extended for the cloth bag Dione was holding.
“Yes, please.”
The Felin passed Cedra the bag, but not before I noticed their fingers brush against each other.
