Page 66 of Diamond

Roshan can't seem to take his eyes off her, craning his neck to make sure she is well. This gentle gesture reminds me of a poem I once read about a man being lost in his lover's eyes like a sailor lost at sea. A name immediately pops into my head.

"Darya, I will call you Darya."

It seems to fit her perfectly. It makes no real difference to the argila what we call her, but I repeat the name, regardless, hopeful that she will start to recognize it like Roshan does.

Kuret's patterns dance on his bioluminescent body. "Darya," he tests the name on his tongue. "What does it mean?"

He seems mystified by the entire process I have gone through but is humoring me.

I see him still leaning a little to take the weight off his still-injured thigh, and my mood becomes more somber. It mustbe bothering him more after sitting for so long. He got that protecting us, and now we have even more responsibility.

I glance back at her. An even bigger target than Roshan. I'll need to figure out a holster for the gun, not just have it glued to my side with the weird black material.

The thought shocks me, but I know it's the right thing to do.

We climb into the cart again, with Kuret going first and then helping me up. As if I'm the one that got stabbed.

"Ocean," I respond with a proud grin on my face.

"That doesn't translate either, but it sounds nice. Gentle, just like they are."

I like how interested with the argila he has become over the course of our time together. I remember the animosity between them when they initially met. Look at them now, comfortable in each other's company.

Kuret steers the argila on the right path and our journey begins again.

We roll along in silence for a while before Kuret speaks in a quiet voice.

"May I ask a question?"

A surprisingly intense tone in his voice comes out of nowhere, considering the lighthearted tone of our conversation up till now.

I turn to face him, starting to worry about the sudden somber look on his face. I push my hair behind my ear in my usual nervous gesture.

"Yes."

"What made you decide to take off the covering from your head?"

It seems like years ago and I'm wondering why it's still on his mind.

I place my hands on my cheeks and stare blankly ahead at the swaying grass. The cool wind bites at me as I search my brain for an answer. Thankfully, I don't have to give one, as Kuret lets out a gasp.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, sitting up straight and he points to my ear.

There is no way to look at my reflection, so I run my hand up and down my ear, breath stopping when I feel three points instead of a rounded helix. I gasp and touch the second ear, finding out that they are the same.

Maybe I have been desensitized by all the craziness that has been happening recently, but I don't feel as bad as I did about the silver patterns on my skin, and definitely not as upset as when my eyes changed.

"They are lovely," Kuret says and I smile stiffly at him.

I can't say I like it, but it doesn't seem all that important in the big scheme of things, though I suppose this is the third change. Of many?

My mind is more weighted with thoughts of other changes that will start happening to me and what they will be. The more time I spend on this planet, the less I will look like myself.

That is frightening.

I hope I can look at my reflection and not hate what I see.

It isn't helpful, so I distract myself thinking about how good it feels to know I'm better at defending myself, even though what I want to talk about is what we did together in the grass.

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