Libba Bray's the man, er - woman!

(edited)

Kartik's POV

The sun rises early on the morning of June 12th, 1896. Gemma is to go riding in Hyde Park with the other young ladies of her age. No doubt the dreaded Simon Middleton will be there as well. Jealousy seeps through my every vein, making me anxious and causing me to curry Ginger with a little too much vigor. The mare tosses her head and paws at the ground trying to convey her discomfort.

"Sorry girl," I say, easing my brushing. I see her ear flick back at me. At least someone listens to me. Gemma's family sees right through me, as if I'm not even there. It hurts to know that her family will never accept me as one of their own.

"How's Rajah coming along, Willie?" I call into the next stall.

The boy's head pops over the low wall in between the horses. "He won't pick up his feet, Mr. Kartik."

I brush the hair out of my face with the back of my hand. "Pinch his fetlock."

"Right." His head disappears again.

I resume brushing Ginger. Gemma's brother is to accompany Gemma riding, as a chaperone. He is also friends with Simon Middleton. They are just one year older than me.

Willie's head is back. "He won't lift 'em. It's hopeless."

No. Nothing's hopeless. Gemma's face flashes before my eyes. She grows lovelier by the day. She is my hope.

I sigh and drop the brush into the shavings. Willie hands me the hoof pick as I enter the stall. Rajah stands with his head held up defiantly. For a moment I stand still as we size each other up. Disinterested, he drops his head to pull a bite of hay from the pile on the ground.

He picks up his feet easily for me, and Willie stares as I return to Ginger's stall.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

Willie shakes his head. "I don't know. It just seems like the horses like you."

I shrug. "They respect me."

"I wish they'd respect me too."

"So pay more attention to them." I run a stable cloth over Ginger's body, making her dapples shine gold beneath her copper coat. I think of Gemma again, with the same molten metal shining hair.

"Pretty girl," I whisper, unsure of who I am actually referring to – Gemma or Ginger.

I take great care lifting the sidesaddle onto Ginger's back and fastening the girth strap. Her muscles quiver as I tighten it, but she does not try to snap at me. Rajah is a different story, and a struggle ensues in the other stall.

I bridle Ginger and lead her into the aisle to give her one last polishing. I rub at the brass buckles of the bridle and sweep dust from the saddle. Satisfied, I tie her to the post just outside the barn where the sunlight gleams on her coat.

I hear Rajah kick the wall. "Oi!" Willie yells.

I sigh and return to his stall. "What's the matter?"

"The evil beast stomped on my foot!"

I glance at Rajah, who has his ears flat against his head. "Go sweep the aisle. I'll finish with him."

"Yes, Mr. Kartik."

As I approach the black horse, he turns his rear to me. Frustrated, I turn my back to him as well. After a few minutes, I feel the horse nudging my back. I turn around slowly and pat his neck. That's Willie's problem with the horses; he doesn't understand herd behavior, doesn't listen to them.

I work quickly, cleaning spots that were missed and fixing the tack. By the time I lead him from the barn, Gemma and her brother are already outside.

"There he is," Tom says impatiently, taking the reins from my hands. "Hurry up and mount, Gemma. I don't want to keep Simon waiting."

"Honestly Tom, it's your fault we are late in the first place," Gemma chides as she gives Ginger a friendly pat. She turns to me. "He couldn't decide on which stock pin looked more expensive."

I smile and help her mount the horse. Gemma looks beautiful in her hunter green riding outfit. It nicely sets off both her hair and Ginger's. Together they look picture perfect.

Our hands meet for a moment when I hand Gemma her riding whip. She gazes at me briefly, but looks away as Tom rides up next to her.

"Well let's get going then."

Together they set off. Gemma looks back at me one last time, and I cannot help but see the longing in her eyes.

As there are no horses to care for, Willie and I both have the morning off. For all I know, I may have the day off, provided none of the Doyles have anywhere to go. I decide the best course of action is to take a nap.

I return to my room after the stable is swept and the brushes put away. Ignoring the stream of sunlight that falls across the pillows, I fall onto my bed and wait for sleep to claim me.

The sunlit window turns into the bright outline of a door. A pale hand reaches for the golden doorknob and opens the door. My eyes are presented with the most beautiful scene of a garden. Green grass, red sunset. Gemma. Green eyes, red hair. The realms. This must be where I am. I'm in the realms with Gemma. Only, she is the realms.

'Come, Kartik!' she takes my hand. The river is the blue of her dress. We ride a ship down that river. A gorgon's head eyes me curiously. We are golden. Gemma's hair is golden. What is this magic? It's Gemma…

There are colossal women. Their soft curves emerge from the rough rock. 'What is it?' I hear myself ask.

'It is our destiny.'

Colored incense hangs in the air. I feel warm and relaxed. Gemma lies before me on silk pillows, partially obscured by delicate curtains. I'm melting into her, into a whirlwind of incense and magic.

'You're always a part of me.'

Things are falling backwards. The rock women become the gorgon. I see gold, I see blue, red, green. Gemma and the garden. The door of light…

Sunlight has moved across the bed to shine in my face. I shield my eyes and sit up, trying to grasp onto my dream. It is impossible; all I can gather are a bunch of colors jumbled together, and Gemma. Of course there was Gemma. My Gemma.

Surely she must be back by now. I make my way to the stable, listening to the birds chirping cheerfully, happy to have the warm sun on their feathers. Sure enough, the horses are back in their stalls, un-tacked and groomed, happily munching on hay.

I sink onto a bale of hay and listen to the quiet sounds of the horses eating. I start planning the rest of my day. I have to clean the mud from the bottom of the carriage, but that is where my obligations end. I suppose I could always take Rajah out for a ride, for I need some exercise as well. I rack my brain for any mentions of social calls that would prevent me from doing as I wish, but I can't seem to find any.

"Knock, knock."

The sudden voice startles me. I look up to see Gemma at the doorway with a tea tray in her hands. She sets the tray on a tack box with a smile. "Hello," she says cheerily.

"Hello."

"I trust you are doing well?" she asks.

"Extremely well, thank you," I reply.

"How many sugars would you like?"

"Three please."

"Too much sugar is bad for your teeth. Cream?"

"No thank you."

"Here you are then." She hands me a cup of tea.

"Thank you." I wait until she fixes a cup for herself and sits down on another stool before I take a sip. It's possibly the best cup of tea I have ever tasted, but that might just be because Gemma made it.

"Have you spoken to your father?" I ask.

"Yes I have."

"What did you say?"

Gemma's mouth curves into a slight smile. "I simply explained that I enjoyed your company very much and asked if he would kindly allow me to spend more time with you."

"And he gave his consent?!"

"Perhaps."

I frown at her untroubled face. "Does he know our intentions?"

She stirs her tea, the spoon gently clinking with the china. "I am not sure. But he may allow you to court me if you ask him."

"Gemma, I doubt he'd approve of his coachman courting his daughter."

She frowns slightly. "Unlike my grandmother and brother, my father actually cares for my happiness. I am not being pressured into marrying a rich man for the financial sake of our family."

"Yes, but there are more issues than money that widens the gap between us." There it is, the sad truth. You can make a poor man rich, but you cannot change skin color.

Gemma's eyes meet mine. She gives me a look that makes me feel as if she can read my thoughts. Sometimes, I think she can.

"You are a gentleman," she says carefully. "Father loves India."

I shake my head slowly. I don't know what has turned Gemma into such an optimist. As much as I want to spend the rest of my life with her, even I know that the chances of that happening are slim.

"Kartik," she says softly. "I know my father. Trust me."

"Then I shall ask him."

Gemma smiles at her teacup. There is something about the way the sun hits her hair that seems familiar. Then I remember the dream.

"I had an odd dream today," I say, striking up a different conversation.

Gemma's face is all attention. "Did you? What was it about?"

"Well, that's the thing. I don't quite remember it. If I try to recall it, I feel as though I am about to grasp something, but then I can't."

"Do you remember any of it?"

"You were in it. And there were colors. Vivid colors."

"What was so odd about it then?"

I shrug. "I think I was in the realms." I glance at her to see her reaction.

Her face is a jumble of emotions, confusion being the most prominent. "The realms. Well, it would make sense."

"What do you mean?"

She sets down her tea. "Sometimes people visit the realms in their dreams."

"Oh."

She stares at me, her green eyes penetrating. "Is that all?" She asks.

"No. I was wondering…" Should I ask her? "I was just thinking…since I am no longer Rakshana, maybe…you could take me into the realms?"

Her face softens. "I don't know if it will work, Kartik, and I don't know what will happen if it doesn't. But…we can try."

"Can we?"

She nods.

"When?"

"How about now?" She stands up, straightening her skirt.

I stand too. "What do we need to do?"

Gemma looks around. "We need a place where we cannot be seen."

My eyes land on the carriage. "Will the carriage do?"

"Perfect."

I help her into the carriage and sit across from her. "Now what?" I ask, my heart thudding madly in my chest.

"Take my hands," she says. "And picture a door of light."

My stomach twists with the sense of déjà vu. Her hands are warm and soft in mine. I close my eyes and envision the door from my dream.

"Open your eyes," Gemma whispers.

I open my eyes and gasp. There is a door glowing before us, the crescent eye emblazoned on it like a window. Gemma opens the door, her skin oddly white.

The scene that unfolds before my eyes nearly brings me to my knees. Visions of my strange dream dance in my head and I struggle to keep my grasp on reality. That is, if any of this is real to begin with. The sight is overwhelming, and my eyes ache as if I had been in the dark for years and this is the first time I've seen light since.

Gemma squeezes my hand gently, bringing me back to my senses. "It worked!" she exclaims triumphantly. "The realms accept you, Kartik."

I open my eyes again cautiously. The scene no longer stings them so much. I take in the emerald grass, the golden red sunset, the crystal blue river. Gemma sits amongst bright purple flowers. She picks one and twirls it between her fingers.

"Watch this," she closes her hands around the bloom. I kneel next to her for a closer look, the scent of the flowers strong in the air. She opens her hands and a tiny frog jumps from them with a croak. Each time it lands, more flowers sprout from the ground beneath it.

"Incredible," I say breathily. "You did that?"

She smiles proudly. "Yes. Now you try."

"How do I?"

"Wish for something and concentrate."

I stand up and look around. What do I want to do? I spy a tree, looking rather too ordinary for such a place. I run my fingers over the bark, creating smooth frescoes of characters from The Odyssey.

Gemma applauds from her spot in the flowers. "You did it!"

I step back to admire my work. The tree trunk now has the look of an elaborate column. "I did, didn't I?"

"I think it's missing something, though."

I cock my head to the side. "You're right." I place my palm over a ship. Immediately, color spreads from under my hand, painting the fresco. "That's better, I think."

A light rain of petals falls from the sky. Gemma walks up to me, the glorious sunset framing her figure. Before I can register what is happening, my mouth suddenly joins with hers, in a kiss that tastes of paradise.

I feel something I cannot fully comprehend, a static-y sort of feeling, running from her through me. It is possibly the most delicious feeling I have ever felt, a light tingling in every part of my body. It feels as if I am drowning in this feeling, like I am drowning into her. Though my eyes are closed, I see the realms clearly, see her clearly. Red, green, blue, gold. I feel her heartbeat within me, resounding with my own. And then I realize that it is her magic in me.

"You bound the magic to yourself," I murmur.

"Yes."

"I felt it, just then."

"What did you feel?"

"The magic, you – the realms, flowing through me."

"Hm. Interesting."

"Do you know what it means?"

Gemma frowns slightly. "No, I don't. But I know of someone we can ask."

"Who?"

She smiles. "That's for another day."

She looks so achingly lovely. She looks so…happy.

I lightly stroke her pale cheek. "You're beautiful, Gem."

She blushes and lowers her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers.

I take her hand in mine. "Dance with me."

This time there is no one to catch us. We are free to do whatever we wish. The notion is thrilling, to say the least.

"My pleasure," she says.

I pull her in close, and this time she does not break away.

"Do you like it here?" She asks, her hair fluttering softly around her face.

"I love it here," I say, grinning broadly. "It's like a dream."

"Oh! Do you remember your dream now?"

"Bits and pieces. I remember things as I see them here."

"So you were in the realms then?"

"Yes. Gemma? Where does the river lead?"

She glances at the river. "It depends on where you want to go. Did you see where you went?"

I struggle to grasp the image of my surroundings on the river. It lies just beyond the edges of my memory, taunting me to remember. I finally see something.

"There were giant stone women…and a lot of incense."

Gemma furrows her brow in confusion. "That would be the Cave of Sighs. I don't know why you'd see that…" Her green eyes widen. "Unless…"

"Unless what?"

She blushes madly. "It's nothing. Forget I said anything."

Whatever could she be so flustered about? I thought of something she said to me before Christmas.

"Gemma, didn't you tell me that the Order and the Rakshana were once lovers?"

"Yes, I did."

"Do you know why?"

She sighs. "No, I don't."

"I see."

Gemma breaks away. "I suppose we could go find out after all if you'd like."

"Another day," I say softly. "Let's just spend some time together."

She beams at me. "I'd like that." Her eyes drift back to the river, over the gentle grassy slope that dips beneath the jewel bright water.

Then she is off running towards it, pulling me along with her.

"Wait, Gemma!" Her sudden movement forces me off balance, and I trip into her. We fall to the plush grass rolling over each other like a barrel towards the river. Thankfully, the slope levels before the water's edge and we slide to a stop.

She bursts out laughing, and I can't help but to join in as well. I laugh until my sides ache and my eyes feel wet from tears. The sky spins with my dizziness.

"You've grass in your hair, Kartik," Gemma says giggling. Her eyes are bright from tears of mirth.

"So do you!" This has us laughing again. She shakes her head wildly, sending blades of grass flying, turning into shimmery flecks as they do so.

"Kartik," she says with a mischievous look on her face. "Let's go swimming."

There's no one to tell us otherwise, no one to see us act inappropriately. What other chance will we ever have? The water looks so very inviting.

"Let's do it," I say with a wink.

She unlaces her boots and pulls off her silken stockings quickly. I look away, not just for modesty's sake, but because I don't want my mind to run wild. I kick off my shoes with haste and strip down to my drawers. I wonder if this is such a good idea, the two of us so scantily clothed, alone.

Ever since the night I took her to see the stars, we have been extra careful around each other. It's difficult, knowing what happened and almost happened, and not being able to experience it again. I respect Gemma, though, and her decisions as well. It's just the notion that she is longs for me as well that makes me crazy. We both know that our self control alone is what keeps us from acting on our impulses.

No one would know if we did. Potential pregnancy is what holds her back. Shaming her family, being caught. She'd be ruined if we did. My pretty Gemma, ruined. I wouldn't submit her to that for only a few hours of pleasure.

Gemma skips before me in only a chemise and bloomers. "Catch me if you can!" she taunts before running away.

I leap after her, catching her in just a few strides. We laugh, unrestrained, giddy as children. I pick her up around her waist; she kicks, squealing gleefully.

"Put me down Kartik!"

"As you'd like, m'dear."

I toss her into the river, where she breaks the surface with a loud splash.

"Kartik!" she sputters, wading back to the shore. "You horrible, dreadful, absolutely awful –"

"Yes?" I chide.

She glares at me through ribbons of wet hair plastered to her face. "- rude person!" she finishes.

I pretend to be wounded at her not-so harsh comment. "Gemma, how could you ever say such a thing to me, your beloved?"

"Beloved, my foot!" she gives me a sharp shove and I fall backwards into the water.

The water is a pleasant surprise. It is warm and cool at the same time, and feels better than any water I have ever been in before. When my head breaks the surface, I see Gemma standing on the bank, her white underclothes rendered transparent by the water. I will myself to look away, though the sight of her body is tough to ignore.

Her face is smug. "How do you like that, beloved Kartik?"

I grab her ankle and pull her back in. "I like it very much, thanks."

She can't pretend to be angry anymore. Her face breaks into a wide grin and she splashes playfully at me. I splash back, and soon we're in an all-out war.

She jumps on me, her slippery skin cool on mine. It doesn't take long before we are kissing each other frantically. The water makes her weightless, and she grips my sides with her knees, pushing herself up and allowing for a deeper kiss.

"Gemma," I say between kisses on her forehead, cheeks, and lips. "I – love – you – so – so – much!"

"I know," she throws her head back, allowing me access to her wet neck. She looks at the sky, her eyelashes peaked together from the water. "I love you too."

She lets go of me and falls back fully into the water again. I'm disappointed at her sudden departure. A pensive look crosses her face.

"So many questions," she whispers. "It's exhausting."

"I know what you mean."

She floats on her back in front of me, looking like a mermaid. "Sometimes, all I do is think. I try to piece together information to find answers. Sometimes I come up with things that make perfect sense. But, I never know if it's true or not."

"That, my dear, is philosophy."

"Ladies aren't supposed to have anything to do with philosophy. It's not good for us to do so much thinking," she is testing me, daring me to correct her.

"Do you honestly think that, Gemma?"

She is silent for a moment. "It drives me mad. I feel as though I will fall into my own head. But I cannot stop it. I am told I have a very vivid imagination."

"You do."

"Perhaps, but this is different from imagination." She looks troubled. "I feel as if I think things that I shouldn't."

"I don't believe that."

"It's true."

"So give me a taste."

She bites her bottom lip. "Do you remember the other night, when I said I sometimes felt as if nothing mattered?"

"Yes."

"Well, I kept thinking about it. This is what I came up with. I figure – if something matters to someone, it is important, regardless of what others think."

"That's about right." I trail my fingertips across the surface of the water. Somewhere in the distance, an odd-sounding bird calls out.

"But I kept thinking. Even if something isn't real, or true, as long as the person in question truly believes it, then it must exist, or be true. People can exist solely within themselves, if only they can will the world them to change." She dips her head backwards into the water and emerges again, her skin glimmering in the sunlight.

"I don't quite understand," I say, kicking away a fish darting about my legs.

She licks her lips in concentration. A fleeting image of my lips on hers passes through my head.

"How do I know that any of this is real? How do I know that you are real? What if the world as I see it is nothing but a figment of my imagination? And if it is so, how do I know that I cannot change my reality simply by willing it to change? Perhaps if I get to a certain level of mentality, I can change what I see. And even if I can't, I can at least believe that I have."

"That's pretty deep, Gem."

Her face falls. "You don't understand, do you?"

I look at her sad face with sympathetic eyes. "I do understand, Gemma. But I don't think that your thoughts are unhealthy."

She says nothing.

"Think of it this way, you're a girl with a lot of dreams and hopes. However, your life prevents you from pursuing what you want. It's natural to look for a way out." I pause. "You're such a clever girl, Gem," I say warmly, trying to cheer her up.

She sighs heavily.

"Gemma, don't be so sad. Things will work out for the best."

"But what if they don't?" Her voice is quiet and wavers slightly.

I move through the water until I am at her head. I gently lift her head and shoulders, cradling her to my chest. I think of our whirlwind relationship with each other, how it hasn't even been a year since we've met. We're already so close, so much in love. This cannot just be a fling. We are together for a reason, I just know it.

"They always do, Gem. Things will always work out in the end."

Whether it is destiny or fate or choice that drives our actions, the reality is that Gemma and I are together. Granted, we are not supposed to be, but there it is. We are. We are together no matter what happens. So things will turn out okay. They have to.

I raise my eyes and take in the grandeur of the realms. It seems so easy to lose yourself in such a place, to never want to leave. A place where all your dreams come true.

Still experimenting with ways to write their relationship. This was a more playful side, and I think I like this chapter the best. I might go back and rewrite parts of the last two. Hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter might be in Gemma's POV, but I'm not entirely sure.

I write waaay too much lately! It keeps my head clear, and it's better than studying for Quantitative Methods in Psychology, which, ironically is the class I wrote both this chapter and "Exotic" in. It is possibly the most utterly useless class ever. And I can't catch up on my reading for it because of a horse show this weekend that requires me to leave the school at 4 am.

Yours in pain and prose,
LunaEquus