Judging was about to begin.
Chapter 3
TAHKI DIDN’T care about the prizes. He only wanted recognition, so he didn’t bother checking the prize list. He returned to his table and straightened his schematics. He placed the design for the temple in the front. It might have fallen apart, but that had been due to poor construction. The design was still one of his best. He really should have thanked Sornjia for saving it.
The architecture exhibit room fit thirty six-foot tables along its edges. Behind the fountain globe, in front of a panel of windows that gave a magnificent view of the cliffs, a stage had been built. In the center of the stage, an oil painting of a woman sat on a pedestal.
Tahki squinted.
A gold plaque below the painting read “Queen Genevi.” He should have recognized her. He’d seen drawings of her in the papers. She was a pale woman with a fierce expression. Her hand rested on a slender gold cat with a blue face. She held herself straight and tall. Even in a painting, she had an air of command about her, an authoritative presence. She looked like she could take down a redclaw bear with a single blow. The last three rulers of Vatolokít had all been women, known as the Remarkable Three, but Queen Genevi had developed a ruthless reputation. She had been the one who’d closed the borders.
He wasn’t sure if he felt relief or disappointment at her absence. He would have loved to meet the woman who so passionately encouraged industrial growth. But had he seen her fierce gaze in person, he might have thought twice about entering.
“Exhibitors, please return to your tables for judging,” a thin woman with a squeaky voice announced. Spectators in fur coats shuffled in with pamphlets and smoking pipes in hand.
He sat up straight. The redhead’s friends found her and wished her luck. Again, their eyes wandered to Tahki.
“I don’t think he speaks Vatolok,” the redhead said to her group.
He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he won.
Judging started after the room settled. The judge was a short old woman, probably in her midseventies. She wore a blue sash over her shoulder and appeared to be of eastern ancestry. Everyone in the room gave her a wide birth, and though the top of her head only came up to Tahki’s chest, something about her intimidated him. He wasn’t the only one, either. Her narrow gaze sent children scurrying back to their parents, and parents back to their seats.
Tahki counted the seconds as she paused at each table. She spent exactly two minutes at every display.
His mouth itched, and his arms felt fluid and light. He tapped his foot rapidly against the marble floor.
The judge moved closer.
Her face remained impartial, no matter the quality of work displayed.
She shuffled nearer.
The hairs on his skin stood at attention. This was it. The moment he’d fantasized about while drawing in his room with the curtains pulled shut. The moment that had gotten him through the unbearable heat of a dozen summers. This could very well turn into the greatest moment of his life.
A shadow moved over his designs. Tahki’s gaze broke away from the judge. A young man stood in front of him, arms crossed. At first, Tahki thought he was a part of the redhead’s group, but something about him felt different. It was the way he looked at Tahki’s designs. His cold gray eyes moved over them with deliberation. He didn’t just look at the drawings. He examined them as though they were real, tangible things. Things to be considered and taken seriously. Tahki couldn’t help but stare. Over three dozen people had visited his table, but none of them really looked at his work.
The stranger stood a few inches taller than Tahki, probably in his early twenties. His lean muscles flexed slightly as he straightened his back. He had hazel-colored hair trimmed short, except for on top, which stuck out a little longer. He wore a sleeveless dark leather shirt that fit tight against his body. He didn’t fidget or sway or crack his fingers. He held himself perfectly still. The kind of unwavering discipline a soldier shows, like rigidity was his natural state.
He was also quite handsome.
Tahki’s stomach did a little flip. The sensation surprised him. He could eat an entire demon pepper without so much as a stomach cramp, so he didn’t know how a stranger could make him feel like he’d swallowed a bag of fluttering moths.
The stranger met his eyes, and Tahki’s stomach lurched again. At first, the young man regarded Tahki with a curious expression. He looked at him as intently as he’d studied the drawings. Tahki should have looked away, avoided the awkward, silent eye contact, but he didn’t. He stared right back.
But then the stranger’s expression changed to one of slight frustration.
“These would never work,” the stranger said.
Tahki blinked. “What?”
The stranger gestured to the temple design. “You need better support beams here and here. It wouldn’t look as pretty, but without them, this design would cave in on itself in a second.”
Tahki’s stomach turned to iron again. “I think I know how to calculate load-bearing structures.”
“Symmetry,” the stranger went on, like he hadn’t heard him. “You rotated the axis of this column to dissect it asymmetrically. You should have divided it in the middle. And tilted the pipes against it. And added at least three more columns to account for the extra weight. Here… and here. Maybe even one here for safety.” His pale fingers brushed over Tahki’s designs.
“I know how to support a roof,” Tahki said. He usually hated when someone touched his work, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask the stranger to stop.
“But you forgot to account for the added water weight of this… what is it, a gutter? The walls might have held it, but you hollowed out the northern facade and didn’t add any additional support. In
