Kal, though, had been groomed for a high position since birth. Majoring in genetic studies and minoring in business, he had the skills to make him justifiably sought after. She hated his smugness. She hated having to work twice as hard for half the credit, and she thought it telling that he went by his last name, shortening it from Kalamack to Kal in order to sound more human. To her, it meant he relied on his family rather than his own self for his identity.
Depressed, she looked down at her dress and the blah shoes the woman at the store had pushed on her. She’d wanted black to match her hair and eyes, a decision she was now regretting. It made her look like security, not business. A pillbox hat sat atop the coatrack her father had insisted on having in her booth, and she fought with the urge to throw it on the floor and stomp on it. I’m tired of fighting this . . .
“Penny for your thoughts,” a pleasantly masculine voice said, and her sour mood vanished.
“Quen!” she exclaimed as she rose, thinking he looked exceptional in his interview suit, as black as her dress apart from a narrow, vibrant red tie. His eyes were a dark green, and his hair just as black as hers, though it curled about his ears where hers was remarkably straight. She warmed as his gaze traveled appreciably over her, and she wished his fingers would follow, but she knew they never would. They were both so damn focused on their careers, and if she got pregnant, hers would be over.
“Wow. I forgot how well you wash up,” she said, her smile widening as she gave him a hug, lingering to breathe him in. His shoulders were comfortably wide, muscular from his daily regimen, and she missed him already. He smelled good, like oiled steel and burnt amber, the latter giving away that he’d been spelling lately, probably to show his skills to a prospective employer. “You shaved,” she said, her fingers tracing bare skin. But then her eyes widened when she realized he was holding himself differently, an unusual pride hiding in the back of his gaze.
“You accepted a position,” she said, grasping his hands. “Where?” He was going to leave in the morning and go to the rest of his life. But finding their place in the world was what the three-day gathering was for.
“I’ve never seen you look this amazing, Trisk,” he said, evading her as he glanced at her contract basket and the three minor offers within, turned facedown in her disappointment. “Where’s your dad?”
“Coffee run,” she said, but he was really campaigning for her. “Who took you on?”
Quen shook his head. His thin hand, calloused from the security arts, felt rough as he tucked away a strand of her hair that had escaped the clip. They’d met in Physical Defense 101. He’d gone on to major in security studies as expected. She had not. Women, even those with hair and eyes as dark as hers, weren’t allowed to serve in anything more than passive security, and after fulfilling her security minor with demon studies, she intentionally flunked out of business to get into the scientific arena. It rankled Trisk that her grades were as good as Kal’s. She had the GPA to work for the National Administration of Scientific Advancement at the Kennedy Genetic Center, but she’d be lucky to get a job in Seattle, much less at NASA.
Kal’s laugh sounded loud, and Quen shifted so she wouldn’t have to watch the NASA representative and Kal’s parents fawn over him. There was an opening on the team that had just recently solved the insulin puzzle, freeing not only elven children from diabetes forever, but also humanity, the species they’d tested it on. Kal’s parents looked proud as they entertained the man. The Kalamack name was faltering, and they’d invested everything in their son to try to find a rebirth. Elitist little sod. Maybe if your family weren’t such snots, you could engender children.
Trisk’s lip twitched. “Did I ever tell you about the time Kal cheated off me?”
“Every time you drink too much.” Quen tried to tug her away, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave, not daring to be absent if someone should seek her out.
“He has to win every time, no matter what. Even a spelling test. You know the worst part?” she said as she refused to move and his hand fell away. “He knew we’d get caught and I’d be the one called a cheater, because the Goddess knows Kal is too smart and clever to cheat.”
“You think?” Quen grinned at her old anger. “I swear, Trisk, you should’ve majored in security. Maybe finished out that demon-study track. I bet you could find a demon name, and with that, they’d let you teach. Didn’t your grandmother teach?”
She nodded as she dropped down into her chair, not caring that her knees weren’t pressed together as they should be. Her grandmother had done a lot of things, not all of them in the light. So had her mother. May they both rest in peace. “Demon summoning is a dead art.”
Quen sat on the edge of her interviewer chair, looking awkward and handsome at the same time. “Security isn’t just guns, and knives, and stealth. It’s technology, and demons, and sneaking around. You’re good at that.”