"It is when my son is involved."
"Please. Like you've given a rat's ass about your son."
"Where is he? Michael!" he yelled. "Michael! Come and see your old man."
"He's not here, so stop yelling."
Vince turned on her, eyes blazing. "Is this where he is? Are you hiding my boy off-planet?" He brandished the shuttle ticket at her. When she didn't deny it, he nodded. "You've gone too far, Rosemary. You can’t keep me away from my son.”
“You don’t care about your son. You only care about your piggy bank!”
"He's my flesh and blood! You'll hear from my lawyer." Vince stormed out, door slamming behind him.
Rosemary ran to the door. "Go crawling back to your family! I’m sure they’ll be super excited to clean up your mess!"
She wanted to sink to the floor, cry, and give up. The situation had been far from ideal but trying to make a better life somehow made everything worse. Vince was involving his family and their endless resources. There would be court hearings and judges and custody. Being an adult was so damn hard, but Michael needed her. Relied on her. The sacrifices she made weren't for her; they were for him.
She would fix this. Had to fix this. Hell would freeze over before she’d let Vince take away her son. The situation was just more complicated, and that was all. She'd call her old lawyer, the one who drew up the custody papers, and see if there was something they could so. Settling custody disputes on another planet had to be mega-expensive. She might have to stay off Earth until the situation was resolved.
She'd figure it out. She always did.
Mene
"Every weapon has a balance. Feel the weight of the blade."
Michael held the ax in one hand, arm extended, like it was a viper ready to strike him.
This could take some time.
The ax was lightweight, suitable for a young warrior, and the blade had been dulled. A target of soft foam stood a reasonable distance away.
Mene corrected the youth's stance. "Let your arm swing."
Michael swung his arm up and down, grip tight on the handle.
"Keep your arm straight." Mene guided his throwing arm. "When your arm is at the apex, here." He paused to allow Michael to note the position. "Release."
Michael flung the ax. It wobbled through the air and thunked against the target before falling to the ground. "I suck," he said.
"Indeed. How many years are you trained in the art of throwing axes?" Mene rubbed his chin and looked to the sky.
"It's my first day. You know that, jackwagon."
Mene hid his smirk. No sense encouraging backtalk. “So you do not suck. You are merely unpracticed.”
“I guess.”
“Then we practice.” Mene retrieved the ax and placed it back in Michael’s hands. “This time, keep the blade straight. It should not move. And your wrist must also be rigid.”
The youth gave the ax a few test swings before releasing it. It flew straight but bounced off the target.
“Better. Now use force. You are defending your mother! Your family! Your clan!”
Michael nodded. “But I don’t have a clan.”
Mene slapped the boy on the back, and he stumbled a few steps. “You are my family now. You are in my clan.”
A wide grin spread across his beige Terran face. “Cool. Mom is gonna freak when she sees me throwing an ax.”
Rosemary
It took five days to wrap up her life on Earth. One for travel, three days of packing and shutting down utilities, and another day of travel. If she hadn't been so busy or bone tired, she might have been depressed that her life could be condensed to a pile of boxes.
Settling into a new life on Sangrin happened just as quickly. By the time she returned, the cottage was cleaned, had a fresh coat of paint and was move-in ready. The boxes of all her worldly possessions were delivered two days after she arrived. She and Michael unpacked. Mostly she unpacked and let Michael sort out his own room.
Two days later, she started working in the winery's Tasting Room. She was all nerves her first day, barely understanding the patrons if they spoke too quickly. Her cheap in-ear translator had a hard time keeping up. She smiled and nodded, and no one seemed to care if she misunderstood. Tani was right, though. Patrons would spend a lot of money for the novelty of sharing a drink with a human. The first day she felt a bit like a circus animal, there to perform tricks.
By the second day, she got over herself. It was a decent job in a beautiful environment, with housing included and far away from Vince. She'd wear a costume, juggle, and would even take a pie to the face if Tani asked.
She enrolled Michael in the Mahdfel Academy, but apparently, there was a waiting list. The academy had an interview process, and a non-Mahdfel student needed a sponsor. Evidently having a Council member as a sponsor moved the application along.
The day of the interview, Rosemary wrestled Michael into his best Sunday clothes. The cuffs of the pants floated a good inch over his shoes. "How did you grow so tall? These fit last month."
"Sorry, Mom. Kids grow. It's what we do."
The lavender meanie arrived with a vehicle. Rosemary chided herself for being rude. Mene was doing her a favor. The least she could do was not be catty about it. Moreover, he was the boss’s kid. She couldn’t afford to lose this job, not after such a big move. Play nice. She needed to start a Don’t-be-Mean-to-Mene jar.
Michael climbed into the back without hesitation, chattering about all the cool weapons he wanted to learn how to use. Not on her watch.
"I thought Oran was taking us," Rosemary said as she buckled herself in.
"He was delayed. You must accept my presence."
"I must, huh?" She grinned, but he huffed and fixed his eyes on the road, ignoring her attempt at good humor. Not a morning person. "Coffee? Fresh from Earth." She held out the travel mug.
He sniffed the container and took a cautious sip. "What is this?"
"The extracted juice of boiled beans."
"Terrans like this?"
"We love it. It's a necessary part of our diets."
He set the mug down, and a serious expression settled over his face. "Will your health suffer if you do not have this boiled bean juice? Are you able to gain the nutrients from other sources?"
"Relax. I'm not going to die if I don't get my coffee in the morning." She might feel like it without her daily caffeine fix, but she'd survive.
The Mahdfel Academy was a sprawling complex on the outskirts of the nearby city. She followed their route on the vehicle's navigation system. She'd need to learn how to read the language or get the implant. The in-ear translator worked fine for a tourist but fell short for daily native use.
"So tell me about this school," Rosemary said.
Mene shrugged a massive shoulder. "Many warriors, and others, begin their training there."
"Did you go there?"
He nodded. Big talker, this one.
"Are there Mahdfel schools on every planet?" Was there one on Earth, and she failed to notice? Not that there were a bunch of aliens walking around. Actually, there were, in cities near military bases. She just avoided those areas. The moon base was full of Mahdfel, she knew that, and the old space center on the Florida coast.
"There are several."
"Several. Thanks for the clarification." Talking to him wasn't worth the effort. "Michael, honey, are you excited?"
"I want to sword fight!"
Rosemary twisted in her seat. "Where did that come from?"
Michael's face went pale, and he blinked slowly. She recognized his about-to-tell-a-lie face. "Mene says warriors use swords in space."
"Don't be silly. They have guns." Rosemary saw one of those high-tech guns on Seeran's back not long ago. It shot ammo that was actually some type of plasma, but a gun was a gun, plasma or no plasma.
"It is unwise to use a projectile on a spaceship," Mene said. "One stray shot could breach the hull and lead to depressurization. Melee weapons are preferred when boarding an e
nemy vessel."
"Right." A bullet in the wrong place could cause serious damage and suck everyone into the vacuum of space. Still, swords seemed primitive. "I think you're a little too young for sword fighting, honey."
"I'm not little," Michael protested.
"You'll always be my little honey bunny." Rosemary reached back to squeeze a cheek. He rolled his eye and pushed her hand away. In her mind, he would never be big enough or old enough to play with swords. Nope. Not on her watch.
The vehicle stopped at a security checkpoint. Rosemary called it a "checkpoint" as a courtesy. Two Mahdfel men with no weapons stood watch at an arched gate. Their pristine white uniforms fitted their frames, leaving little to the imagination. One approached the driver's side window. He looked so young, his face still round with youth. He recognized Mene and waved them through without a word.
"That was a student, wasn't it?"
Mene grunted.
"I'll assume that’s a yes."
The academy was a series of low-slung buildings clustered around a central yard. The buildings themselves were rather bland and utilitarian. Ornamental trees with scarlet leaves lined the courtyard. Walkways were both smooth, wide pavements and smaller winding gravel paths through dormant flower beds. The courtyard, while stark in the winter, would bloom into life in the spring.
Mene lead them to a central building. Once inside, they were ushered into the admission office.
A Sangrin woman waited in the room. She looked up as they entered, surprise on her face. Rose had two thoughts at once. She did not expect a civilian to work at the school, and the woman was rather pretty.
The woman's hand fluttered to her throat before folding elegantly over her stomach. "Enforcer Rhew. I did not expect to see you so soon."
Rosemary narrowed her eyes. This woman knew Mene. Judging from the dark violet flush to her cheeks, she found Mene attractive. Rosemary didn’t know how she felt about that, but she did not like the sour taste in her mouth.
She looked from Mene to the woman and back again. He had no visible reaction to the Sangrin woman. Good.
The Admissions Officer gave Rosemary a long look. Her lips quirked up in a smile as she took in the competition. That was silly, Rosemary told herself. She wasn't competing for Mene. She barely tolerated Mene.
"I did not realize the Council was involved," the woman said.
"I am here in a private capacity."
“And is this Terran important to the Council?”
“This Terran is important to me.” Mene shifted his bulk in the chair next to her. She knew he spoke about Michael, but she couldn’t help the burn of abashment on her cheeks.
The smile vanished from the woman’s face. "I see you had a very fruitful Golau. Congratulations."
Rosemary didn't like the implications of the word fruitful. It suggested they were together. Mated. She also did not like how slow Mene was to correct the misunderstanding. "I'm Rosemary Rovelli. We're here about my son, Michael."
"She is my brother's relation," Mene said at last.
"Your brother." The woman's smile returned, and she tucked a piece of hair behind a horn. "So not your—"
Oh, sweet and sour chicken. She was flirting. With Mene.
"She is family. She is clan," Mene said. If he was affected by the woman’s interest, his expression betrayed nothing.
The woman blinked, taking in his words. Maybe they held more meaning to her than they did to Rosemary. He basically just said they were distant relations, right? “My sister married his brother,” she added for clarification.
"Ah! My name is Charin," the woman said, a bright smile returning to her pretty face. She turned to rummage through some files, all the while babbling about the school.
Rosemary used the moment’s distraction to type out a message on her old phone. Voice calls got expensive off-planet, but text messages remained cheap. She sent the message to Mene. Is she flirting with you?
I do not wish to discuss this, he replied.
Oh my God, she’s totally into you.
His frown intensified, but he didn't deny it. If she thought him capable of awkwardness, she'd say he was uncomfortable with Charin's attention.
Poor little Mene, scared of a flirtatious woman.
You should get her digits, Rosemary wrote.
I have no use for her fingers or any part of her.
Rosemary swallowed her laugh.
Charin paused in her speech. Her gaze shifted from Rosemary to Mene and finally settled on Michael. "How about you? Do speak Sangrin or have a translation chip installed?"
Michael shook his head. "I know how to write a few words."
"Can you write your name?" She perked up with interest and pushed a tablet and stylus toward him. With his tongue between his teeth, Michael carefully made a glyph. Rosemary didn't know the figure, but it looked pretty.
The gentle lavender color drained from Charin's face. "Oh, um..."
"Who taught you that?" Mene asked, grabbing the tablet.
"Uncle Lorran."
Mene pressed his lips together but said nothing.
"What did he write?" Rosemary leaned forward. Mene erased the glyph with a swipe of his hand before she got a good look.
"It, um..." Charin's face went a deep violet. She crossed an arm over her chest.
Rosemary turned her focus to Mene. "Tell me." It had to be rude.
His eyes dropped to her chest.
Oh.
"That's a credit in the Swear Jar, buddy," she told Michael.
"I didn't swear!"
"You wrote a rude word."
"But I didn't say it. The Swear Jar is for saying naughty words. I don't even know what that word means."
Such a little lawyer. "Boobs. And that's another credit for sass."
His eyes went round. "You said it too!"
"And another. Are you done yet or are you going to spend all your allowance talking back to your momma?"
Michael grumbled but didn't argue. "Fine." He stretched the word out, petulant. Seven years old and petulant. Rosemary could not wait until he was a teenager. "Remind me to speak about this to Lorran," she told him.
"Mo-o-om."
"Perhaps we should take a tour of the grounds. You can ask questions as they come up." The woman led them out of the office, hips sashaying with each step.
Yeah. Rosemary might have teased Mene earlier, but now it wasn't funny. This woman was flirting with her Meanie, right in front of her. Rude.
"What about sports?" Michael asked, bouncing alongside Charin.
"We have many sport ball teams."
"I don't know if that's a good idea," Rosemary said. She didn't like the idea of her little Michael playing with Mahdfel, kid-sized or not. Even Mahdfel children were big. They'd crush her sweet little honey bunny.
"Mo-o-om," Michael groaned.
"We have many students here, not just Mahdfel. Your son would be placed in a class of similarly-sized youths." That meant the scrawny, fragile kids got their own teams. "We also have several academic tracks. Some warriors serve their clans best as pilots, navigators, medics, engineers, architects and so on."
"Not a lot of demand for poets?" Rosemary asked. The curriculum seemed very science, tech and math focused. She, herself, had always enjoyed history and literature the most in school.
Mene grumbled. "Take this seriously."
"I am," she said. "What if Michael is the next great poet?"
"Mo-o-om." Embarrassment permeated his tone. Rosemary ruffled his blond hair. Just a typical mom, mortifying her kid.
They passed through a library. No one seemed interested except Rosemary. Her fellas were not big readers, apparently. They poked their heads into classrooms in use. Students stared back at them. Rosemary was gratified to see a few human faces mixed in with the purple horns, red skin, and shaggy green-and-white skinned crowd. She had never seen so much variety before.
During the tour, Mene rested his hand on her back to guide her. The first touch took he
r by surprise. Her initial reaction was to knock it away and snap at him to keep his hands to himself, but the greedy expression on Charin's face made Rosemary bite her tongue. His touch wasn't so bad. It felt nice, even. His large hands made her feel delicate by comparison, and the strength in those hands promised that nothing bad could happen if he were nearby.
Finally, they arrived at a gymnasium. Part of the space had the wooden floor Rosemary associated with the average school gym, complete with lines painted onto the floor. The other half of the floor was sand covered, designed for barefoot sparring and wrestling. Typical gym equipment of balls, nets, baskets lined one wall. The far wall, however, had swords, staffs, axes, maces, and ever smaller daggers designed for throwing. From a distance, Rosemary could tell the weapons were wooden and made for practice, but still. It was a wall of weapons. A literal wall of weapons.
Charin marched straight to a Mahdfel male. His dark violet skin gleamed under the lights. "This is Nals. He is one of the mentors."
The man smiled as his gaze rested on Rosemary. He leaned in, as if to bow, and took a deep breath, tasting the air. Tasting her, she realized. The smile fell marginally, but any interest he held in her vanished. “If it isn’t the Enforcer. What have you brought me today?” The man’s tone was friendly enough on the surface, but Rosemary detected an underlying hostility. He and Mene knew each other, perhaps didn’t like each other too much.
Mene said nothing but nudged Michael forward.
"New student?" His gaze evaluated Michael. "What are you then?"
"Human."
"Scrawny thing, aren't you?"
"I'm big for my age."
Nals glanced at Rosemary. "Are all you humans so small? I guess some males like 'em tiny. Makes them feel adequate." He gave Mene a friendly jab with his elbow.
Mene was not amused.
Flustered at the male's frankness, Rosemary was just about to tell him where he could shove his assumptions when Mene answered. "Michael is the appropriate size for his age and species. You have seen Terrans before or is your memory faulty? Do you require something less taxing in your advancing years?"
Nals’ back went straight, and he took a step toward Mene, nostrils flaring. Mene did not step back as Nals advanced, step by step until their chests nearly touched. All the whispered rumors about the Mahdfel brutality and outbursts of random violence came back to Rosemary. She snaked an arm around Michael, ready to flee if the two Mahdfel came to blows.
Alien Warlord's Passion (Warlord Brides Index Book 2) Page 8
