I sleep poorly in my bed of silk that night. Long after kissing Eo's haemanthus blossom, I fall asleep and dream of my father and what it would have been like to have known him into man-hood, to have learned to dance from him instead of from his drunken brother. I clutch the scar- let headband in my hand as I wake. Holding it as dearly as I clutch my wedding band. All those things that remind me of home. Yet they are not enough. I am afraid. Dancer finds me at my morning breakfast. "You'll be happy to know, our hackers have spent two weeks hacking into the Board of Qual- ity Control's cloud to change Caius au Androme- dus's name to Darrow au Andromedus." "Good." "That's all you have to say? Do you know how much-Never mind." He shakes his head and gives a chuckle. "Darrow. It is so offColor. There will be raised eyebrows." I shrug to conceal my fear. "So I'll butcher their gorydamn test and they'1l care less than a lick." "Spoken like a Gold." The next day, Matteo takes me by ship to the stables of Ishtar, not far from Yorkton. It's a place by the sea, where green fields stretch over rolling hills. I've never been in so wide a place. I've never seen the land curve away from me Never seen a true horizon or animals so terrify- ing as the beasts Matteo arranged for our lesson They stomp and stamp and snort, flicking their tails and baring their monstrous yellow teeth Horses. I've always been scared of horses, despite Eo's story of Andromeda. "They're monsters," I whisper to Matteo 'Nevertheless," he whispers back, "it is the gen- tleman's way. You must ride well, lest you find yourself embarrassed in some formal situation. I look at the other Golds riding past. There are only three at the stables today, each accompa- nied by a servant like Matteo, Pinks and Browns "A situation like this one?" I hiss at him "Fine. Fine." I point to a massive black stallion with hooves that paw the ground. "T1l take that beast." Matteo smiles. "This one is more your speed." Matteo gives me a pony. A big pony, but a pony There is no social interaction here; the other rid- ers trot past and tip their heads to say good day, but that is all. So their smiles are enough for me to know how ridiculous I look. I do not take to riding well. And I take to it even more poorly when my pony bolts as Matteo and I navigate a path into a copse of trees. Out the other side of the copse, I jump off the creature and land deftly in the grass. Someone laughs in the dis- tance, a girl with long hair. She rides the stallion I pointed to earlier. "Maybe you ought to stick to the city, Pixie," she shouts at me, then kicks her horse away. I rise from my knee and watch her ride into the distance. Her hair spills out behind her, more golden than the setting sun.
