by Delia Roan
She was shifting boxes when Farrah stuck her head in the door. “Where’s Papa?”
“He’s taking a nap,” Rebecca answered. I hope. “Since you’re here, you can help.”
Farrah slipped in and sat on a box. She picked up the lumis and as Rebecca sorted, she typed in details. With Farrah’s help, the task sped up. Rebecca could stay in the suit, and since Farrah could read Ennoi, she listed the contents of each box in the database.
“There,” Rebecca said, moving one final row. “That’s the last box.”
“Silk, cerulean blue,” Farrah read. “One box.”
She dropped the lumis into her lap, and watched Rebecca slide the containers into the spot she’d left for them.
“I wish I could do that.” The Ennoi girl sounded wistful.
“I bet you could learn,” Rebecca responded.
“Papa won’t let me.” Farrah rested her chin on her fists.
“Why not?” Rebecca powered down the suit and climbed out.
“He says it’s too dangerous.” Farrah sighed. “He says everything fun is too dangerous.”
Rebecca thought for a moment. “Well,” she said slowly, “I could teach you. I mean, if your father had help on the ship, he wouldn’t have to do all this work by himself.” Maybe he wouldn’t look so haggard, either.
“You could?” Farrah hopped to her feet. “I’d love to learn!”
“Now hold on,” Rebecca said, raising her hands. “I’m not going to let you haul freight.”
“Please?” Farrah’s opaline eyes shimmered. “You owe me, remember?”
“I-I guess I don’t see the harm in showing you the controls.” Rebecca bit her lip. “But nothing tricky, okay?”
As Rebecca walked Farrah through, she had to admire the girl’s enthusiasm and quick mind.
“Can I take it for a walk?” Farrah asked.
“Ugh, fine,” Rebecca said. “Just around the room. No lifting!”
Farrah led the machine in a stroll around the room. The glee on her face soon had Rebecca grinning.
“This is amazing!” Farrah said. She cranked up the power to the suit, and the mechanical skeleton began to move faster. “Look! I can dance!”
Rebecca’s smile faded. “Hang on, Farrah, that’s too much.”
The machine twirled around as Farrah squealed with delight. The thick metal legs slammed down into the floor with hollow thumps. The rotor’s whine grew high pitched and frantic.
Verdan burst into the room. “What’s going on in here?”
“Look, Papa! Look at what I can do!”
“Slow down!” Verdan yelled. He lunged for the controls, but Farrah danced away, laughing.
“You can’t catch me!” she crowed.
“I said stop!” he roared.
The machine powered down, slumping into lifelessness. Verdan reached in and pulled Farrah out of the seat. He plopped her onto a box and shook her.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded. “You could have been killed!”
Rebecca grabbed his shoulder. “Hey!”
“Remove your hands!”
“Verdan!”
“This is not your concern!”
Rebecca clenched her jaw. “You’re scaring the child, you big lughead.”
For a moment, Rebecca thought he might turn his fury on her. Let him, she thought. I can take it.
Verdan placed her hands on either side of the girl’s face. His voice softened, but his eyes did not. “I am disappointed in your foolishness.”
Farrah blinked. “I-I’m sorry, Papa. I was just having so much fun.”
He scowled at her. “No tears. You are not an infant.”
Farrah’s lip quivered.
“I’ll send Min away. Infants cannot have pets.”
The girl bit her lip hard enough for the color to fade from her face, but the tears dried up.
Verdan patted her face. “Your stoicism brings you Honor. Bed time.”
He scooped her into his arms. Rebecca opened her mouth to speak, but the look Verdan shot her made her step back. Rebecca stuck out her jaw.
“You want to blame someone?” she said, her voice low. “Blame me.”
“I do,” Verdan ground out. “We talk later.”
He spun away, carrying his daughter.
Rebecca huffed a curl out of her face. “Well, that went about as well as a house fire.”
CHAPTER FOUR
VERDAN
Farrah fell asleep in his arms. The day had contained too much excitement. He tucked her into her bed, and kissed her forehead. He took a moment to study her face.
So much like her mother’s.
Would it hurt less or more if she’d taken after him? If he didn’t have Farrah to remind him of Tysa?
“Sleep, little one,” he whispered, before slipping out of her room. The door shut behind her with a click, and he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease some of the tension out of his temples. He ran a hand along the ridges of his jaw. Moons, even those hurt. Pressing his fingers against his eyelids set galaxies swirling in his vision.
He’d have to deal with the Human.
She’d muscled her way onto his ship, corrupted his daughter, and-
The sight of Farrah’s laughing face popped into his mind’s eye.
When was the last time he’d seen her so happy? So free? So childlike? He thought back. Yes, when she’d spotted Min tucked into his arm on Effthor-17. She’d glowed, like light shone from within her skin.
He sighed, and started back to the cargo bay.
He shouldn’t be angry with the Human. She’d made his daughter happy twice in the short time she’d been on board. Once when she’d snuck on board, and again, when Farrah had made the machine dance.
When she’d taught his daughter how to endanger herself.
No, he could be plenty angry with the Human.
The cargo bay was empty, so he stormed to the kitchen, where he found the Human nursing a mug of warm tea. He paused, watching her bring the cup to her lips and blow steam off the surface. The heat made a curl on her forehead dance, and brought colour to her cheeks. Her lips touched the edge of the mug, and for a moment, Verdan wondered what it would be like to touch those soft lips.
The intrusive thought just make him angrier. He stomped into the room.
“Human,” he began. “You have no right-”
“Rebecca,” she interrupted, rising to face him.
“What?”
“I have a name. It’s Rebecca.”
“Your name means nothing to me,” he snarled.
She crossed her arms. “It means plenty to me.”
“You placed my child in peril!”
He expected her to cower from his rage, but she jutted out her jaw in that infuriating manner. “I saved your child from the Dorians.”
“You know nothing about Dorians!” he roared back.
Her eyes narrowed, and she unzipped her flight suit. Spinning around, she pulled it over her shoulders and down to her elbows, revealing her back. She drew her hair over her shoulder, and bowed her head.
Scars, stark white against her skin, lay in even stripes across her shoulders, and down her back, disappearing into the folds of her suit.
In his days as a warlord, Verdan had seen many scars. Yet, the neat lines made him recoil. The scars were deliberate, laid with a precision that bespoke cruelty. He’d seen the Human fight. She was scrappy, but she wasn’t a soldier. After enduring that, her spirit remained.
She shrugged back into her suit and zipped it up before turning to face him again. When she spoke, her voice was low. “I know everything about Dorians.”
“Still you risked yourself.” His anger began to dissipate.
“I couldn’t let them take her.” She corrected herself. “Take Farrah.”
If they faced each other within the confines of proper Ennoi society, he would have to admit his Honor carried a black mark from this exchange. The Moon�
��s Pride might be in the middle of nowhere, but he remained an Ennoi.
What Honor do I have left?
With a sigh, he bowed. “Rebecca of Earth, I have acted foolishly in addressing you by your species, rather by your earned name. Forgive me for my transgressions towards you.”
Rebecca stepped back. “That’s… that’s okay.”
“You have saved my daughter. Thank you.” He rose from his bow, taking in her startled face.
“They wanted to ransom her. Claimed she was a princess. Is that true?”
He lowered his head. “She is Farrahar Ar’Lhoris of Ennoi Lhoris.”
“That… means nothing to me,” she replied, sinking back to her seat. She sipped at her tea, watching him over the rim.
Verdan sighed. “The Ar of Ar’Lhoris means she is born of the Lhoris clan leaders. I am Verdanat Il’Gaedir Ar’Lhoris.”
She blinked. “That’s a mouthful.”
“Il’Gaedir means I married into the Ennoi Gaedir. Il means by marriage or adoption. My wife, Tysarrana…” His words faded away. Tysa. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the ache of his loss wash over him. “No matter. She is a princess only in name. My brother, Ziyk, holds the throne.”
When she noticed his expression, she stood. “Sit down,” she said. “I’ll get you a mug.”
A minute later, she slid a steaming cup in front of him, and returned to her seat. Verdan scowled at the brew. He hated arka tea. He also hated talking to people, so he took a sip. Terrible. She’d brewed it too weak, and…
“You sweetened it.”
She smiled. “Yup!”
“It is horrible.”
Her smile grew even wider. “It’s the best damn thing I’ve tasted in at least four years. Maybe even as long as ten.”
He stared at her. Being angry seemed to take too much effort. How could he stay furious in the face of her joy?
Why would a simple drink make her smile?
“How did you get to New Trades?”
She shrugged. “Hitched a ride I probably shouldn’t have hitched. Crashed. You know.”
He did know. He’d seen the same casual flippant attitude in his fellow warriors. They couldn’t talk about the horrors they’d experienced, so they spoke about them as if they did not matter.
Who is this person? What are her secrets?
Rebecca took another sip, then placed her mug on the table. “The truth is, I’m sorry.”
“For crashing?” he said, slightly confused by the subject switch.
“For Farrah,” she said. “She told me you wouldn’t like her learning how to work the mech suit. But I did it anyway.”
“Why did you?”
Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t really know. No, that’s not true. I do know. She reminded me of me, when I wanted to learn to ride a horse.”
“What is a horse?”
“A type of Earth animal. Like Min, only not as fat.”
“She will birth soon.”
“So I’ve been told,” Rebecca replied with a wry smile. “Anyway, I wanted to ride a horse, and my parents said no. Too dangerous.”
“You did it anyway.” Verdan took a drink, and choked down the mouthful. “Were you injured?”
Rebecca nodded. “Broke my arm when it bucked me.”
“What happened next?” It was strange conversing with Rebecca in this manner. Even stranger, at some point, he’d stopped thinking of her as the Human. Rebecca is a good name, he thought. It is almost Ennoi in its sound.
“I waited three months until my arm healed, and then tried again.”
“Another broken bone?”
“No, Dad caught me. Whipped my butt and then got me lessons. Taught me on a pony. When I learned the basics, he moved me to a horse.”
“Do you enjoy the challenge of a hard ride?”
Something about his question made her choke on her tea. Her face went oddly pink. “Well,” she finally choked out. “It depends on the horse.”
“Ah,” Verdan said. He felt he’d missed something in the translation. He sipped his tea. “So you became an expert in these animals?”
“Nope,” she replied cheerfully. “Three months later, my mom got a promotion, and we moved to the city. Never saw another horse again.”
“I struggle to follow your logic.” He didn’t know if Temanzyme withdrawal fogged his brain or if Rebecca made no sense. “Why do you tell this story?”
She frowned at the wall, trying to gather her thoughts. For a moment, he enjoyed watching her face. Her emotions were all present upon her expression. He saw thoughtfulness, frustration, and a wistfulness for times long past.
“I’m telling you that Farrah is like me. She wants to learn, and she won’t take no for an answer.”
Verdan dropped his gaze to his cup. His shoulders hitched upward.
“If you want her to be safe, you need to teach her to be safe. Otherwise, she’s going to go off and try to learn on her own.”
“Are you finished dispensing advice?”
Rebecca dropped her soft tone. “Yes,” she said. The edge had returned to her voice.
“Good.” Verdan pushed back his chair and stood. The world swayed. He clutched the edge of the table, waiting for his vision to clear.
“You okay?” Rebecca said.
“I am fine,” he ground out. He carried his mug to the kitchen and dumped the liquid in the sink.
When he turned back, Rebecca studied him as one might a wild beast. “You sure? I don’t know how to cook, but I can make you something to eat.”
“I am not hungry.”
Rebecca sighed, and propped her chin on her hands. “I am. I’d kill to have a slice of pizza.”
With an irritated grunt, Verdan threw open a cupboard and retrieved a package. He emptied the contents into a bowl, and poured hot water over the powder. Rebecca watched with interest as he slid the bowl in front of her.
“What is it?”
“Porridge,” he said. “Farrah’s favorite.”
She took the spoon he offered, and stirred the food. She sniffed. “It smells pretty good.”
“It is not seed cakes with syrup, but it is adequate. Eat.”
She blew away the steam and took a taste. Her face scrunched up. Verdan shook his head, and returned to the table with the jar of sweetener. He watched in amusement as Rebecca poured an overly generous amount into the bowl.
“Much better,” she said.
Verdan watched as she ate. The action of her lifting the food to her face, blowing to cool it, and then slipping the spoon between her lips seemed to hypnotize him. There was something sensual in the way she murmured her satisfaction at each mouthful. When a spot of porridge dribbled down her chin, he held back the urge to lick it away. His muscles twitched and shuddered.
What is wrong with me? He had to get out of the galley before he embarrassed himself.
“Sleep well,” he said. With a curt nod, he left. His Honor wouldn’t allow him to look back.
In the darkness of his room, he could not rest. His body ached down to his bones. He needed to get to R-333, to get his dose of Temanzyme, so he could push back the coming agony. He flicked on a lamp, wishing he could dispel the darkness in his mind with the same ease.
He touched his chest, where his second heart lay dormant, quiet. A pang passed through him as he remembered how strong and full of vitality he’d felt when it had beat for the first time. Tysa had strode into the training barracks and he’d known in that instant. The pulse in his chest. He remembered the agony of the moment when it had stopped again.
Tysa. My star.
It killed him to admit it, but Rebecca had a point. Farrah would continue to grow, and the walls of the ship wouldn’t be enough to keep her happy. To keep her thriving. What were his alternatives? Return to Lhoris with his tail between his legs, begging for scraps from his family? The same family who turned their back on him when he refused to participate in a meanin
gless war?
Who gave them the right? He had been newly widowed with an infant to care for!
“Tysa, my love, what should I do?”
It was not Tysa’s face he imagined, but Rebecca’s. Her mouth quirked in a smile and her hair a haloed mess of curls. The tilt of her chin that warned she was about to argue. The way her nose wrinkled when something he said displeased her. The clarity of her smile. She was strange, but he wanted to decipher her secrets.
He closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to claim him. As he slipped away, he tasted the sweetness of tea on his tongue.
CHAPTER FIVE
REBECCA
Rebecca woke to the sound of a hoarse shout. Again. For a moment, she thought she was back on a Dorian ship, hearing some poor woman in distress. Who was it? Who would be next? Rebecca shook sleep from her eyes, took in the boxes surrounding her. No, she wasn’t with the Dorians.
She was on Verdan’s ship. This was a spare room. She was safe.
So who had she heard?
She stumbled off her bunk and out of the room. Her first instinct was to check on Farrah. Farrah lay in her bed, her hair a tousled mess and her lips parted as she snored. Sighing in relief, Rebecca pulled the blanket over Farrah’s legs and closed the door behind her. Leaning her back against the door, she took a breath. It wasn’t Min. The beast bleated. No, it had been a voice, shouting incomprehensible words.
That only left one other option.
Despite her dread at facing Verdan again, Rebecca padded down the hallways. The ship seemed eerily quiet, and her bare feet made no noise on the metal flooring.
He’d already reamed her out once for sticking her nose in his business. It wasn’t an experience she cared to repeat. Yet, she doubted he wanted to wake Farrah.
She rapped her knuckles on the door. “Hello?”
A groan answered her.
“I’m coming in,” she said, pushing the door open.
A lamp washed the room in a cool blue light. She’d expected the room to be neat based on how Verdan ran his ship, but the cabin she stepped into was spartan. A bed sat against one wall, but there were no other furnishings. A door to the side led to what she assumed was the bathroom. This was not a bedroom, but a room with a bed.
