Ever by Gail Carson Levine

Thank you for rescuing me.” Who is he? “Thank you.” I am grateful enough to thank him a thousand times.
    â€œGood. Er . . . good.”
    â€œIs Elon . . . Will Elon—”
    â€œElon is only stunned. He’ll sleep awhile. I’m glad you are fine.”
    â€œThank you. How did you know? Did you hear me shout?”
    â€œYes, but . . . er . . . I followed you.”
    If he hadn’t just saved me, I might be frightened thathe followed us. No. How can I be afraid of someone who sounds afraid of me?
    â€œWhy did you follow us?”
    â€œI didn’t trust him. He kicked me.”
    My savior is the handsome slave! “You’re the . . . You pile dishes and unpile them.” Maybe Admat did send him.
    He laughs. “I’m not a slave.”
    Why pretend to be one?
    â€œI’m . . .” He hesitates.
    My guardian?
    â€œI’m a goatherd.”
    He can’t be!
    â€œI am Olus, son of Arduk and Hannu.” Foreign names. “I rent grazing land from your pado.”
    Now I am a little frightened. “How do you know who my pado is?”
    â€œYou arrived together. And I heard your aunt say.”
    Ah.
    He adds how generous Pado has been to him, and then I know he is telling the truth. I tell him my name. We start back to the wedding.
    In the distance the musicians are still playing. My slippers shush-shush on the baked mud street. His bare feet pat-pat . My heart does a pat-pat too. Although I can’t see him clearly, I am aware of how glorious he is.
    I wonder why I didn’t hear him following us. Then I remember the plate he dropped, the plate that hung in the air before touching the ground.
    I want to ask him about the plate and his silent feet and why he’s pretending to be a slave and why he came to the wedding. Most of all I want to ask him if he is my guardian. But I’m afraid to. Instead I say, “Where is your pasture?”
    â€œClose to the northern boundary of your pado’s land. There is a brook.”
    â€œI know where.” Pado let him have a good spot. “Every autumn we spend two weeks nearby. I love to walk into the hills.”
    â€œI wish you could see a wedding in Akka, where I come from.”
    I’ve never heard of Akka. “Are your weddings different from ours?”
    â€œSome parts are identical. There is a marriage contract and eating the bitter and the sweet. But in Akka we have a pantomime. The bride and groom hold hands. Someone—perhaps a friend of the groom—dons a gray tunic. He is Storm. He attempts to tear the couple apart, but theyhold fast. Another friend wearing black is War. She tries to separate them, but they hold fast. Someone else may be Gossip. Two mort— Two people may be Children Arguing.”
    I love this. “What does Gossip wear?”
    â€œGossip doesn’t have a costume, but Gossip claps together the jawbones of a donkey.”
    â€œIs there music?”
    â€œDrums.”
    â€œDo the bride and groom always hold fast?”
    â€œThey never let go.”
    I wish Olus had kissed me instead of Elon. The most daring thought comes to me. I can’t act on it.
    But Admat sends everything: my thoughts, my feelings, my death, this goatherd. So perhaps I should. Tomorrow I will have twenty-nine days left.
    â€œKezi, I—”
    â€œOlus, will you erase Elon’s kiss? Will you kiss me?” I hold my breath, waiting.
    His feet stop their pat-pat . Have I shocked him?
    His hand tilts my chin up, so gently.
    I close my eyes and give myself over to his touch. His other hand, gentle too, cups my cheek. He kisses me, a feather kiss. His breath is sweet. He kisses me again,longer. I lean into his chest.
    A wind picks us up, and we rise.
    I am filled with terror.

19

    OLUS
    S HE SCREAMS, “ A DMAT!”
    My high wind blows her scream into the sky. Again I didn’t mean to use my winds. She pushes away from