I stood in front of the mirror, a frown on my face as I realized my hair still didn't quite cover the scar above my right eyebrow. With a sigh, I raised the brush, trying to coax my hair just a little farther forward, without having it tumble into my face.

Maybe I should just give up, accept looking like one of my da's shaggy herding dogs, and cut bangs.

In disgust, I tossed the brush on the table. Back home, I'd never bothered with such foolishness. Everyone had known me. Devyn Aeryn, the Townwarden's daughter, over-tall, over-smart, and nothing I did to my hair was going to change that. So, I never tried.

But here, in Haven, no one knew me. I didn't stand taller than the boys my age...well, not all of them, at least...and if my first day of classes had been any indication, I was going to find plenty of people here who could hold an intelligent conversation.

And here I was, fussing over my hair for the first time in my life. My sister, Brin, would have a good laugh over that if she ever found out.

I made a face at my reflection, gathered up my books, and went to my first class of the day.

It was mathematics, and while Father Tam, one of my tutors back home, had given me a good grounding in the basics, he had warned me how much I still had to learn. I knew I'd have to concentrate. And, given the subject, concentration should have been easy.

Should have been.

I wouldn't even have noticed him if he hadn't looked like family; when I first glimpsed him, I thought perhaps I had a cousin in Haven that I wasn't aware of. Then I got a better look, and was very, very glad he wasn't a cousin.

He was gorgeous, with the blackest hair I'd ever seen...and, coming from a family that runs to black hair the way Companions run white, that's saying something. This class was being held in an outer room, and the early morning sunlight was spilling in, supplementing the lamps and pulling blue highlights from his hair.

I'm sure I stared, because I had trouble pulling my eyes off him and finding my seat. I was grateful his gaze was on a book, his expression serious with concentration. I found myself smiling at the sight of him, an impulse I'd never felt before, and considered introducing myself.

Then I saw the other boy, three rows away and almost as pretty, very obviously mooning over him. With a hmph of disappointment, I turned to face the front of the classroom. It figured any boy that beautiful would be interested in other men.

Or maybe it figured just because I would have that kind of luck.

Disappointed or not, though, he was definitely decorative, and I couldn't help but sneak glances at him during class. His solemn expression didn't vary, except to become more serious when he was focusing.

To add insult to injury, he was brilliant. Life simply was not fair.

Over the next several days, I discovered he had quite the little entourage - all of them male, not all of them Blues - although he seemed thoroughly oblivious to it all. For my part, I was discovering that the most entertaining students were the Greys, and found that I was making most of my friends among them rather than my fellow Blues.

That didn't prevent me from keeping an eye on the Blue I'd noticed, however. His name was Erich Hassenva, and he, like me, was the Collegium because of his own brains, not the brains or standing of his parents. Unlike me, he didn't appear to have any friends, and after a few weeks I knew I had to at least try to find out why.

***

"Nuh nifs," Jarrod muttered around a mouthful of cold roast.

We were in the garden, "we" being Jarrod, his lifemate Michael, Calisa, and I. I was the only Blue uniform disrupting the Grey, and as a result, I was the topic of conversation.

Or, more precisely, my friends were debating why I hadn't been Chosen.

Calisa rolled her eyes. "Swallow and translate, please."

Obediently, the stocky redhead swallowed. "I said, no Gifts."

Michael, blond and broad-shouldered, raised one sun-bleached brow. "What makes you so sure she doesn't?"

"Yeah, how else do you explain that creepy thing she does?" Calisa demanded, sounding almost offended.

"What creepy thing?" I asked.

The short, dark girl waved a hand. "Oh, you know, that 'Jarrod's finally here'...fifteen seconds later, knock knock, there's Jarrod. That thing."

"You think that's creepy?"

"I'm just saying..."

"I don't think knowing who's at the door would really help her as a Herald," Jarrod interrupted.

Michael shrugged. "Could be a form or Foresight."

"Even if it is, it must not be strong enough to attract a Companion." Jarrod spread his hands in front of him. "Lord and Lady know, if I were picking Heralds, I'd tap Dev right off. But the Companions haven't, so there has to be a reason."

"Maybe I have a fatal personality flaw you just haven't discovered," I said lightly.

"Hah, if we're talking personality flaws, Jare wouldn't be here," Calisa replied, sticking her tongue out at the redhead.

"Ha, ha," Jarrod replied, making a face. "Very funny. Maybe the Court needed a fool, and Darshan Chose you for the job."

Rather than taking offense, Calisa giggled, while Michael observed, "I think the Queen's Own would be in a better position to play Court jester, Jare. And I don't really think she's the type."

"You never know where Lis is going to be assigned."

I laughed at the trio. "I don't want to be a Herald," I pointed out, "and I'm too old to be Chosen, anyway."

"But you'd make a great Herald," Calisa protested. "And there are Heralds who were Chosen older than you are now."

"Lis, on the day the Companions put you in charge of who gets Chosen, I expect the prettiest one in Companion's Field," I said. "Until then..."

I broke off, my attention drawn by the sight of Erich walking along one of the paths. Alone. As usual.

Jarrod followed my gaze and let out a low whistle. "He's a looker."

Calisa made a disgusted sound. "Michael, how do you put up with him?"

"I derive great security from the knowledge no one else would want him," Michael said, affectionately smacking Jarrod on the back of the head. "And in this case, I can't disagree with him."

"Well, I can't, either, but..."

By this point, I was mostly ignoring them. "Be right back."

"Luck," Calisa said.

"See if he's open to being shared," Jarrod added; I heard rather than saw Michael wrestle him to the ground.

***

Erich didn't acknowledge me when I first fell into step beside him, and we walked in silence for a moment before I ventured, "Heyla."

There was a pause; I had the distinct impression he was startled, not ignoring me. "Hello."

"Some friends and I are having a picnic. Care to join us?"

He stopped, and looked at me with a frown. "What?"

I smiled; I couldn't help it, his puzzled expression was really cute. "I asked if you'd like to join us."

The frown deepened; his confusion would have been funny, if I hadn't started feeling bad for him. "Why?" he asked finally, an edge of suspicion in his voice.

"Why not?" I asked in return.

Another long, puzzled, measuring look, then, "I'm...sorry. I don't...I'm not good around...people."

"That's okay," I said lightly. "They aren't people, they're baby Heralds. And if you don't like us, you can leave. Honest."

His lips twitched uncertainly. "I...don't want to be a bother."

"I'm inviting you. Don't worry about it." Good gods above, no wonder he never responded to his little entourage; he was probably scared half to death of them! What could possibly have been done to him?

"Are you...sure?"

"Absolutely." I smiled, and, hoping to move the conversation to a more comfortable topic, added, "I've really admired your mathematical abilities."

Again, his lips twitched, like he wasn't sure whether to smile...or, maybe, how to smile. "You're hot on my heels."

"So you'll join us?"

He nodded slowly, then, as if he'd reached a decision, asked, "Do you play chess?"

"Adore it."

"So do I."

I waited a moment, but he'd apparently exhausted his capacity to be outgoing. "We should play sometime."

"I'd like that. I..." he faltered, shrugged. "I don't get to play much."

Part of me wanted to argue with that. From what I'd observed so far, his whole life was a chess game, every word a carefully thought through decision, every move a strategy to keep him safe from...something. I kept my mouth shut, though. I didn't want to scare him any farther behind his defenses.

"Come on and meet my friends," I urged. "Before the food's all gone."

A worried looking frown appeared between his eyebrows, and I was afraid he might bolt. Lightly, I put a hand on his arm. "They're harmless. Promise."

He looked impassively down at my hand, but didn't object, so I left it there. He was tight as a bowstring; for all his carefully closed expression, I wondered if he'd drop dead from fear the moment one of the others spoke to him.

He didn't. He didn't speak, either, except to murmur thanks when one of us handed him something. Nor did he look at us, not directly. Instead, he stared at the ground, the food, his hands, or shot disapproving looks toward Jarrod and Michael.

That baffled and bothered me. More baffled than anything else.

Not being stupid, Jarrod and Michael claimed to have been summoned by their Companions not terribly long after Erich arrived. Calisa followed their lead a little later, rising with the excuse of needing to study.

Lis needed to study like I needed to be kicked in the head by her Companion, but I went along with it.

"You survived," I said mildly, when Erich and I were alone.

"Why did you do it?" he asked, his voice dull and miserable.

I frowned. "Do what?"

He looked up, his eyes shuttered. "Did they ask you to?"

"They?"

"Jarrod and Michael."

There was no mistaking the distaste in his tone. I studied him thoughtfully. "Why would they?"

"I'm not like them," he said flatly, rather than answer.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm tired of everyone assuming..."

He broke off, sighed, and bowed his head again. "Just tell your friends I'm not interested."

"Neither are they. They're lifebonded."

"They are? But..."

Taking a stab, I said, "Not everyone's hunting you like that flock of ducklings who follow you everywhere."

His lips thinned bitterly; it was the most emotion I'd seen him show. "You could have fooled me."

"Some people would be flattered."

"Some people might be attracted, too."

"Are you saying you aren't?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

He scowled at me. "I'm not in denial, if that's what you think. I'm very clear whom I'm attracted to...or not attracted to."

Well, I'd obviously hit a nerve with that one. "So why don't you tell anyone?"

"What good would it do? Everyone makes the same assumption." He stared at me. "Including you."

I couldn't deny it, so I only said, "Now I know better."

For long moments, he stared at me, as if he'd been prepared for a different answer. Then his shoulders slumped, and he whispered, "Thank you."

"For what? Believing you?"

He shrugged slightly. "You're the first."

Gods above, I thought, how do I reply to that?

There was an awkward silence, then Erich suddenly rose. "I should probably go."

I rose with him, afraid that if he left on this note, he'd never let me corner him again...and, my gut told me he needed to be cornered. "My evening is free." I smiled at him, trying to cancel out the last few, awkward moments of conversation, the whole damned awkward meal. "We could play chess, if you've the time."

He stared at me. "Are you sure?" he asked, his original confusion returning.

"Of course. Inviting you over here was my idea, after all. And maybe it'll give your ducklings something to think about."

Hope lit his eyes. "Do you think so?" he asked, almost pitifully.

"We can hope," I laughed, offering him my hand.

He nodded, looking like he wanted to smile, although he didn't; I wondered if he ever smiled. His touch on my fingers was light, tentative, then his hand dropped, as did his gaze.

"Your friends left everything for you to clean up," he said, obviously embarrassed. "I could...help."

I laughed again, inordinately pleased by the offer, since there was really nothing to do but pick up our wooden cups and return the basket to the kitchen. "I'd appreciate it," I said. It was a first step, and I was glad that, if nothing else, I had drawn him out that much.

I only hoped he'd let me draw him out more.