Ari should have been having a wonderful time making her way through the lusciously opulent studios of all her favorite designers. This was fashion pre-season, almost a religious holiday to her, after all. These were the sacred fountainheads during their most sacrosanct time, where she went to renew her spirit, clear her mind, and both be filled and fill others with inspiration and intent, her pilgrimage to the mad geniuses, mischievous gods, and kingmakers of fashion, art, and reality.
She’d grown up surrounded by creatives. Virtually everyone on Aurelia prided themselves on taste and good form. She’d been raised in and among it, both an artist and a muse, on stage, in the sewing room, on the canvas. Many of her oldest friends (and more than a few of her mother’s) still traipsed the halls of the Studios in the Sky—the bundle of floating ateliers in IA’s most prominent fashion district—so these yearly visits were also a mini homecoming, a good week of holiday rest before beginning the massive headache that was planning whatever sold out, intergalactic concert tour had already been scheduled without her say so.
Or at least, it was supposed to be. Instead, she was stuck babysitting the universe’s rudest, most boring Avarian alive—outside of Zusy. (Zusy was the worst.) She was trying to greet all her old friends, get introduced and familiar with the new breakouts, and quicken the hearts of all the chief designers. Instead she was confusing the hell out of everyone! She could almost feel him, like an awkward weight around her neck, pulling focus and dragging down the party. Who is this? She could see their eyes begging every time they glanced at him. No one, she wanted to tell them, point blank. He’s just some stubborn Avarian that Mort’s obsessed with for no reason.
“Are we done yet?” Izo asked, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m thirsty.”
Ari turned to glare daggers at the homeless little cretin. She pointed slowly at the far wall. “No. And if you ask again, we’ll go straight home and won’t get anything to eat or drink afterwards. Now go stand over there and be quiet.”
Izo crossed his arms and snapped to the other side of the room.
Ari forced on a fake smile and returned her attention to the Aurelian in front of her, Senior Designer Azli Elisure. A divine gift from the gods draped in lengths of slinky purple, they were the chief mastermind behind all Bgulvria’s latest sensations, and one of the only people in fashion who could move the needle virtually whenever they pleased. “I apologize for him,” said Ari. “Please, go on.”
“There isn’t much more to say. I’m telling you, the entire ide is a mess,” said Azli.
Ari smirked. “You always say that, my dear. And it’s always a revelation.”
Azli flicked their golden eyes high to the ceiling, sighed, and pulled up the sketch on their giant, floating drafting table. Flicking a hand over it, they averted their gaze mournfully. “You’d think I’d be used to the chaos and unshakeable fear by now, wouldn’t you?”
“It’s lovely,” insisted Ari.
Azli coughed out a bitter laugh. “You’re an angel and one of my best friends, but you’re also a shameless fucking liar. It’s horrible!” Azli flung both arms at the design as if wild, urgent motions would somehow make it magically disappear. “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever made. It’s the worst thing anyone’s ever made. I’m telling you, I’m done. I’m chucking the whole concept. It’s worthless. I have no idea how to fix it.”
Ari looked down at the digital sketch again and suppressed a frown. They were right, of course: there was something intrinsically wrong with the design. It was a lovely sketch, an elegant crescendo of ruffles draping over the faceless model in a regal array. But it didn’t work. It wasn’t the color—the shade was a deep purpling-fuchsia dotted with ecstatic bursts of shimmering white. It had energy. It was energy, both a study and an exhibition, the creator’s vision clear as the early morning sun.
And yet…it just didn’t work.
Ari pursed her lips. She tipped her head. “Maybe with different hair and shoes?”
Beside her, Azli took a deep breath before pulling a long drag from their medicinal vaporizer. The ensuing puff of medicinal smoke smelled of sweet Aurelian fritz blossoms as its heady constitution numbed her nose.
Ari sniffed. “Well, if anyone can figure it out, I know it’s you.”
Azli sighed and moved away. “Of course, you’re right. I just need to give it time. You’re an angel, and dear, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Let me show you the other things I’m working on.” Azli slinked away from their enormous drafting table to lead Ari deeper into the workshop, toward the textiles in the back. “There’s a new fabric we’re coming out with. It’s going to revolutionize everything. No one will be able to get their hands on it, and it’s going to drive them all absolutely mad—”
“Not giving away trade secrets, are we?” came a sudden Malforian voice from behind the two of them.
Azli and Ari twirled around into none other than CEO of Bgulvria himself—Senator Jrinsin Pynalt. Head of the massive fashion empire, he’d taken the family company from one illustrious line and expanded it to a veritable legion of all the best names. Bgulvria, Rurjin, Pradnai—he owned half the studios floating outside.
“Senator Pynalt, how lovely to see you!” Flitting high, Ari kissed the Malforian several times with bubbling affection. “How have you been?”
“Busy, per usual,” he said, taking the kisses genially. “I see we’re looking divine as a goddess and curious as a goddess’s daughter.”
“Also, per usual,” said Ari with a sly grin.
But the Malforian wasn’t grinning back. “Hmm,” he answered simply, eyeing both her and the designer. “So, what’s the occasion?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Ari innocently. “You know me. Any excuse to go out and blow money.”
“Ah, but the things for sale are in the showroom and salons out front. You seem to have wandered into our private workshop and studio,” said Senator Pynalt. “I’m afraid the things back here won’t be available for ages. Maybe never, if the competition gets a hold of them first,” he added with a meaningful glance at Azli.
Azli looked down at the ground. “I was just showing her my new master closet. Got the whole thing blown out and remodeled last month. It cost a fortune, but it had to be done. Great art requires great muses and plenty of space. Don’t you agree?”
“Of course, but great art also requires savvy business if it’s to keep the artist fed and buying new closets.”
Azli’s face tipped back as if they disagreed, but they didn’t reply. Instead, Azli turned to Ari. “Maybe it is best if you go. It would seem I have a Mountain’s worth of work to do. Lucky me.”
Ari nodded in sympathy and bid her friend goodbye before watching them turn and go. Then she whirled on the Senator. “Are you honestly kicking me out right now?”
Pynalt grinned down at her, easy and dismissive. “Are you honestly pretending you weren’t about to hit every other Studio in the Sky the second you left this one? Ari, you know I adore you, but you do this every year—you flit around, bat your eyes, and walk out of here with every design secret in the universe.”
“Yes, before my big tours, where I help showcase and sell them all over the universe.”
“On your timeline. Not on ours.”
Ari glared while working her jaw to one side. Then she shrugged. “Fine. You don’t ever have to worry about me wearing any of your clothes ever again.”
“Ari…” he said with a tsk. “We both know you don’t mean that. You’re throwing a fit because you didn’t get your little insider’s scoop—but you were never supposed to, and you know it. Don’t make a scene.”
“Trust me, there will be no Ari scenes today or any other day. You want me out? Done.” Spinning, she started for the door.
She didn’t get far. Snatching the little Aurelian by the arm, the Senator held her aloft easily.
“Let me go!”
“You need to slow down,” Pynalt said calmly. “I know you’re under a lot of stress right now, but you’re beginning to lose focus and—”
“Dude, she said to let go.”
Ari’s head spun toward Izo. Behaving and quiet for once, she’d almost forgotten he was there. Approaching with both hands raised, he shook his head at the Malforian. “Let’s just keep our hands to ourselves. Okay, bud?”
Senator Pynalt looked at Ari in confusion. “Who the hell is this?”
“He’s a friend.” She shook her head in annoyance. “He’s new in town and just moved into the house. Mort asked me to…”
“This is Mort’s new guest?” Turning to Izo, his eyes immediately began searching over the youth’s features.
He’s running a scan? Ari wondered to herself. Why is he running a—
The Senator tilted his head. “It really is true,” he whispered, the words pouring out in unconscious amazement, nearly too low for her translator to pick up. He grinned, instantly entranced, gaze lighting up as it played up and down Izo’s figure curiously. “Mort, what have you found now?”
Ari frowned. She looked back at Izo in confusion. What the hell was going on?
She had no freaking idea, but it didn’t take long for her to grasp the gist of it. When she turned back to Pynalt it was with a dazzling new smile. “Well, you know I had to bring him out to meet everyone on the down low. We were hoping to get a jump on next season for him as well, but if you really don’t trust us to be here—”
“It’s not a matter of trust. We trust you completely,” said Senator Pynalt. “We just don’t have anything ready for the public yet. You know how it is,” he said, waving his hands around at the building. “It’s all concept and mockups right now.”
“I love mockups! They’re easier to have tailored later,” Ari insisted. When it was clear this wasn’t working, she broke out a coy pout. “Please? Couldn’t we have just a tiny look?” She nodded her head at Izo. “To welcome the new guest?”
The Senator glanced at Izo. He smiled despite himself but shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to insist. Come back in a few weeks. I’ll have something personally prepared for both of you,” he said, holding a hand out to Izo. “I promise.”
“You’re not really going to let both of us walk out of here without taking off our clothes even once, are you?” Turning her body, she pointed her shoulder directly at Izo. His eyebrows shot up as he looked over at her. If looks could kill, Izo would have leveled her on the spot. But Ari just held her pose.
The Senator hesitated and glanced between them. He seemed almost in physical pain at the dilemma. Letting out a quick breath, he finally gave a little shake of his head. “I suppose one tiny fitting never hurt anyone.”
“See? Now was that so hard?” Ari asked happily. Turning to Izo, she grinned. “I told you this was the best place for—”
But before she could finish, the other Avarian had disappeared. Behind them a doorway at the end of a long hallway flew open with a bang.
Ari bit the inside of her cheek. Then she smiled awkwardly. “Excuse me for a moment.”
Ari flew across the sparkling reflecting pool under the studios. Wide and flat, it was a giant circle spread out evenly beneath the entire district, reflecting the studios back up at themselves with gleaming, watery precision. Izo floated over it slowly, gaze down, shoulders hunched. Ari, immediately spotting the miserable wretch, flew at him at full speed, marring the studio’s reflections in her wake.
“What the hell?” she said, reaching back to shove him in one shoulder. “I was almost in!”
“Funny, I’m pretty sure that guy was thinking the same thing,” Izo said, shoving her back.
Ari dropped her mouth in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you throwing me out on the table like a pornographic ace up your sleeve!”
“Ace up my sleeve? I have no idea what you’re saying right now,” said Ari. “All I did was remind him that you’d be changing clothes if he let us try something on. It’s the truth, isn’t it? Is it really that big of a deal?”
“If he thinks you’re offering a free show—yes!”
Ari rolled her eyes. “By the gods, would you stop being so dramatic? My own mother used to suggest way worse all the time right in front of me. Hell, she all but advertised my virginity to the highest bidder for years. All I did back there was…” Ari shrugged and looked at her nails. “Finesse things a little bit.”
Izo’s lip curled in disgust. “Call it what you like. Just don’t ever use me to ‘finesse’ anything ever again.”
“You act like I promised him we’d take turns finishing him off. It wasn’t that big a deal; it’s just a little harmless flirting. It’s building up people’s confidence, being positive and fun! You should try it sometime.” She folded her arms slowly. “You might make more friends.”
Izo crossed his own arms. “And get better food for breakfast.”
Ari squinted in confusion. “Breakfast?” Then her eyes went wide as she remembered her conversation with Zokie that morning. “You little creep! You were hiding in my room?”
“I wasn’t perving on you or anything,” Izo explained quickly. “I…a lot of stuff has happened. Anyway, that’s not what we’re talking about. You want to walk around like the patron saint of sluts? Fine. I couldn’t care less. I just don’t want people thinking I’m a part of the giggle-and-bounce club too. So go finesse whoever you want. Just do it on your own time.”
Ari grabbed her head. “You are such a fucking hypocrite! We’re living with the same man—rent free! You’re surviving off giggle-and-bounce too, honey. We’re not that different. And even if we are—so what? I should be more like you? Uptight and unpleasant all the time? Make up your mind! Are you high and mighty, or lost and pitiful? Because this half-and-half is getting old. Seriously, either find somewhere else to go, or figure out how to fit in here.”
Izo dropped back a step, and even Ari winced. In the long silence that followed, the echo of her words reverberated over the gleaming waters, bouncing and growing, different phrases highlighting and looming in ugliness. Finally, Izo gave a nod, a single, furious acknowledgement. “You know what? You’re right.” The air whooshed and the water sprayed in every direction as he once again disappeared from view.
Ari sighed and wiped the water off her face. “How does he keep doing that!?”
“I’m Izo. I’m so special and sad. I’m the only Avarian that’s ever missed home before.” Ari snickered and finished her drink. “Well, good riddance to you. Don’t trip on your way out of the galaxy, bitch!”
She waved for the waiter, a lovely Cristovalian male with an interesting smile, to bring her another. She’d stopped into one of her favorite Aurelian cafés to grab a quick lunch. Or, more accurately, to grab two or three drinks while pushing food around her plate. So far, the plan had worked like a charm.
Her device went off. She looked down at it and groaned. Mort was calling to check in on his weird little obsession, no doubt. She considered blowing him off. It wouldn’t be the first time or the last. But no, she still hadn’t cleared the stipend from earlier that morning. Rolling her eyes, she clicked her device to take the call.
“Ari, where the fuck is Izo?”
“Good morning to you too,” she huffed. Throwing out her arms, she shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, okay? We got in a fight, he got his feelings hurt, he took off. I knew this would happen. He doesn’t like me and I don’t like him. I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“I want you to find my fucking Gravity Sprite.”
“How? He’s an Avarian. He could be anywhere by now. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s kind of a big planet.” She shrugged and continued pushing food around her plate. “Honestly, I don’t even understand what your deal is. This obsession with him is creepy as fuck, not to mention incredibly beneath you—”
“Ari, shut the fuck up,” said Mort, “and listen to the words coming out of my mouth. I need you. To find. My Gravity Sprite.”
Ari’s brow drew down deeply. “Your…what?”
Mort cleared his throat and didn’t respond.
It took her far too long to figure out she hadn’t misheard him. Izo was a Gravity Sprite. She winced and covered her forehead. Of course he was. It made so much sense. This was the last piece of the puzzle: the obsession, the protectiveness, that weird moment with Senator Pynalt. Mort was up to something, and the other Malforians were picking up on it. There were probably already whispers all over the Mountain. How could she be so stupid? Of course Izo was a fucking Gravity Sprite, the only one of his kind in the universe. And of course Mort had found him, rescued him, and brought him into his house.
And of course—Ari realized with no small amount of pain—she had lost him.
Ari clamped her eyes shut. She held her device closer to her face. Mort’s steely silence hung in the air like an invisible black hole, widening by the minute and swallowing every hint of warmth or light in the universe. She tried to force her mouth to form words, but her voice felt as tiny and fragile as a thread of glass. “I—” She stopped and swallowed back the bile in her throat. “Mort, I didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry?” She could almost hear him bending his ear to whatever speaker he was using on the other end. The motion would be relaxed and utterly furious. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
Ari’s mouth trembled. Of course that wasn’t what he wanted to hear right now. Ari sucked in a shaky breath and made herself nod. “I said I’m going to find him right now.”
“Good. And once you do, I think the two of you should have a long talk. This silly feud between you two has gone on long enough. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because he’s important to me. If something happened to him, it would be like…” Mort considered for a moment. “Well, I think it’d be like if something happened to your mom. You know? That’d be really upsetting. Right?”
Ari opened her mouth lamely. “Yes. It would.”
“And I don’t want you to be upset, which is why I know you don’t want me to be upset.”
Ari covered her mouth to keep from breaking into tears. Her hand quivered over her lips. “Mort, please—”
“Shh,” Mort cooed over the line. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be all right. You’re going to look around for a little bit and you’re going to find him. Maybe start to the north, okay?”
Ari nodded in relief. Her hand fluttered to brush a single tear out of her eye. “Of course.”
“Good. But first you’re going to calm down, because we don’t want to upset him either, do we? No, of course not,” Mort answered for her.
She nodded. His voice had taken on that precise, condescending tone that Ari knew all too well. He didn’t want to hear anything except what he’d already said. “You’re going to do a great job, and everything’s going to be fine. Right?”
“Of course.”
“Good,” said Mort, but there was still an angry pause in his voice like he wasn’t satisfied yet, like he might still need to make things clearer. Everything in her body wanted to jump in and beg him that things were already clear—he didn’t need to do anything else. But he hated it when she babbled, and she didn’t know what he wanted to hear yet.
“So,” he said finally, the tiny space for her to land as clearly marked as if he’d been guiding her in with batons. “What are we going to do?”
Ari nodded gratefully. “Find him. Make friends. Get him home.”
Approval warmed his voice. “Good girl.”