Free Seeking Crystal by Joss Stirling Page A

Venice is a good place to sit alone; something is always happening and no one questions why you should want to stop and people-watch for a while. It is a place used to being on display.
    I replayed the dinner table conversation. I still felt hurt and my brain was coming up with all sorts of over-dramatic responses, ranging from refusing to attend the wedding and never speaking to my family again. But the saner part of me knew this was like one of those angry emails fired off in the heat of a temper and regretted afterwards. No one was trying to harm me; they just saw things differently, thought they knew what was best. My impulse to slam doors and shout that no one understood, that it wasn’t fair, was that of a teenager. Technically I was still one, but I no longer had the luxury of being able to indulge my own mood swings. People were expecting more from me—I was expecting more from myself.
    But that didn’t mean they were right. I was correct when I said my future wasn’t the same as theirs. I had few attractive options in the Savant world so would need to forge my own path. If it conflicted with the usual Savant practice, well then, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it, work out how to reconcile the two. Opportunities like this didn’t come along every day and certainly wouldn’t wait for a wedding to come and go.
    I got up, more at peace now I’d made my decision. Diamond, Trace, and Xav would not approve, but I was going to have those pictures taken and then go from there.

Realizing things had not gone well between us, Xav tried to be nice to me for the next two days but I didn’t make it easy for him. My response to the situation was to become the master of disappearing either to work or for a run. But I was touched, though, when he left a little bunch of silk violets in my bedroom, which some street seller no doubt conned him into buying for far too much money. Still, it was the thought that mattered to me, even if he was doing it just so I didn’t spoil his brother’s wedding by fighting with him all the way to the big day.
    The first time we spent any time together was at the crack of dawn on Sunday morning when I went into his bedroom to wake him at five. I discovered he was not a morning person, which pleased me no end, as I was the one that got to drop a cold flannel on him.
    ‘Hrr-murph!’ He flung the flannel into a corner and buried his head under the pillow. I would have normally tried to ignore the display of tanned arms and glimpse of toned midriff this flailing about revealed, but, hey, I have hormones like the next girl. Some things in life are worth seeing.
    ‘Rise and shine, cupcake. Hollywood awaits.’
    His answer was a grunt.
    ‘Oh well, that’s fine. I’ll go on my own then. Shame, I made coffee—I’ll just have to drink that too.’
    ‘There’s coffee?’ A face appeared from under the pillow.
    I put the mug down on the bedside table—my version of a peace offering as I recognized it had taken two of us to fall out. ‘Just don’t think I’m making a habit of it.’
    I went back to my own bedroom to get ready. Lily had already warned me not to do any make-up or hair myself, as the make-up artists wanted a clean palette to work on. I left my hair loose which of course meant it was spiralling all over the place as if I’d just stuck my finger in the power socket. My dream of modelling had never seemed more ludicrous.
    Xav had shambled into his clothes by the time I returned to the kitchen. Why do boys just look gloriously rumpled when we look as if we’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards? ‘Thanks for the coffee. I can’t get going without a shot of caffeine.’
    ‘Me neither.’
    He clapped a hand to his chest. ‘Stop press: we have something in common!’
    ‘Yeah, yeah, hold the front page. Now, have you got a coat?’
    He grabbed his jacket. ‘Yes, mother.’
    ‘Wellington boots?’
    ‘What? Ah no, I haven’t. That would be because I was packing for