by Bertina Mars
“So he wants to dress me now?” Mira asked. She wanted her voice to sound harsh, but the beauty of the dress caught her off-guard enough that it lessened it.
The servant folded her hands across her laps, looking at Mira in the eyes with her gray ones. “Ve Dominok Arzak has business tonight. No dinner at home.” She studied the human carefully, gauging her reaction.
Mira was noticeably more at ease, though she could swear the servant was smirking. “You go too. There are other Zethradans there. Formal attire is required.”
Mira sighed, exhaling slowly as she tried to make sure she stayed composed. It was pointless to ask what would happen if she didn’t go. As much as she insisted that she wasn’t a politician, that she was just a biologist, Jak’s warning to be careful stayed in her head.
If she wanted to go home, she was going to have to play nice, and hopefully, someone else at that dinner would have the power to expedite the whole process of releasing her much sooner than the rate that Arzak was going.
The dress really was beautiful. The metal piece went from her left hip and expanded in a narrow strip, covering one breast and going up further, framing her right shoulder.
As Mira looked in one of the many mirrors in her room, she felt like this was the closest she had ever come to looking like some Grecian warrior princess.
The servant worked with deft, experienced fingers at putting her hair up in an orderly bun made of complicating-looking braids. “You don’t have to do my hair,” Mira said, staring at the woman in the mirror.
The servant didn’t even glance up. “Ve Dominok likes neck,” she replied simply, “He wants it up.”
Mira pressed her lips together firmly. Well, now I want it down, she thought to herself. She didn’t want to be another one of Lord Arzak’s dogs. “I don’t know how you listen to his every beck and call. I couldn’t do it.”
This time, she really did smirk. Mira caught her in the mirror. “He’s the Lord Commander.”
“No offense, but that’s not how it should work,” she said, “On Earth, we have our leaders, but… They don’t own us.”
“That not how it works here too,” the woman replied, tone careful but light.
“That’s not how Arzak explained it.”
“Miuso can be arrogant and proud,” the woman replied, her fingers removing itself from Mira’s hair as she finished her work, “But does not mean he is not right. We would all die for him and planet - not just because he’s leader, but because he’s hero.”
Mira blinked, taking in the woman’s words. “Miuso…?” she echoed, picking up on one part of the woman’s words. She knew that word from her self-teaching. My son.
The woman had already started to walk towards the door, leaving Mira near the mirror. Their eyes met. “You’re Arzak’s mother? I thought you were one of the servants.”
After all, she had been the one in the past couple of weeks to retrieve Mira for dinner and wake her for breakfast, gave her her clothes back and helped her now with her dress and hair.
None of it had screamed that she had any sort of power in the house. In fact, Mira had assumed she was just one of the women that Arzak had claimed he’d slept with, one of the ones that had just been so unable to tell him no.
She didn’t even look old, though that had to do with why Mira was originally there. She just looked like a regular 30-year old woman, besides the white hair. And still at the doorway, she smirked.
“No offense, girl, but maybe learn about us before judging us,” she suggested, pausing briefly. The woman smiled the same smirk as Mira had become both attracted and infuriated by. “And Arzak said you are scientist. Hm.”
Mira didn’t see Arzak’s mother again for the rest of the night, and she didn’t even see Arzak himself until much later in the evening, just at sunset when she arrived at the restaurant.
There were two guards, one on each side of her, both kept with the task of making sure that the suspected terrorist didn’t try anything. She was lightly patted down before she got in the carriage, nothing like what had happened at the shuttle port, but the red dress was snug around Mira’s curves, and she could tell that their eyes were roaming over hers in a more inappropriate matter. Chivalry really is dead, she thought to herself as they let her out of the carriage.
The place was busy, packed full. It was dim, the only lighting coming from the single lamps that hung over each table, widely dispersed throughout the restaurant so that there were some parts that were completely in the shadows.
In the two weeks that Mira had been there, she had gotten used to the openness of Zethrad, of all the glass and windows and light. The dark filled with voices was making her feel even more nervous about tonight. She smoothed her hands down her dress and took a deep breath in. One of the guards pushed her forward.
“This way,” he said gruffly, and the two guided her towards a table in the back corner.
There were four men in all, and Mira only recognized a couple of them. When she approached the table, all eyes turned on her, giving the earthling appreciative looks. The one to the left of her even licked his lips. She tried to hold in a grimace but didn’t know how well that worked out.
Arzak distracted anyone from noticing anyways, standing up in greeting. He had been sitting just to the right of her, which actually made Mira feel relieved. It was better than being sandwiched between two other strangers that thought she was a terrorist.
“This is Mira Hawthorne, the woman I was talking about before,” he told them, first in Zethradan and then English. She watched Arzak smile charismatically as he continued, now in Zethradan, “Seems she’s gotten so stir-crazy that she wants to join our dinners now.”
These dicks don’t think I know how to speak their language, she thought irritably, Well, I’ll just show them, won’t I? On the outside, she tried to manage a smile and played dumb. Just don’t do anything that would give them cause to blow up your planet, she told herself.
“Pleasure to meet you all,” Mira replied, looking at Arzak with a tight smile. She wanted him to know that she didn’t want to be here.
If he knew, he didn’t seem to care. Arzak waited for her to sit, and the other makes followed suit, though she was sure that they were only doing it because their leader was. Sure, she was a woman, but she was also a prisoner.
Even so, it struck Mira as primitive. Human society on Earth had already reached the point in their society where women weren’t valued above men, nor were men valued above women.
They were all equals, no standing up and waiting for the women to sit. No obligations to hold doors open or make the woman walk on the inside of the sidewalk instead of the outside. She cleared her throat, unsure if she liked this or not.
Watching the others, she was able to quickly pick up on who was who, who did what, and who didn’t trust her. Besides the man across from her, who stayed completely quiet and almost totally ignored by the rest of the diners at the table.
Just like him, once they were past the pleasantries, it was clear that Mira didn’t matter anymore. The other two instead talked to Arzak on a number of different things, mostly all decisions that a leader needed to make. The man on the left who had licked his lips at her was Head of Treasury.
Ve Dominok Arzak needed money if he wanted to keep making wars and keep Zethrad afloat. And that was where, Q’til came in. His teeth were made of metal, Mira realized, and his fingers and hands were decorated with bracelets, rings, and bangles, all tangled up metal that somehow worked together to make one large piece of art spanning across both of his arms.
His hair was pure white, but like all the other men at the table, he looked to be in his early thirties at most, and Q’til had only two interests with Mira. One included ogling her, the other being the fact that she was foreign.
“Tourism, Ve Dominok,” Q’til said in his appeal to his leader. A lot of the conversation was in Zethradan, but he made an effort to speak English for Mira, just to get her on his side. “It’s the way of t
he Zethradan future. Think of the money that we could get from people like this young woman that want to see our lands. Think of the females that could come here.”
That seemed to cause a titter amongst the men. Q’til looked at Mira and smirked, and what he next said was not in English. “You have to admit, though they are no Zethradan females, the female humans could do well for breeding.”
Mira looked over to see Arzak’s reaction. At first, it was unreadable. His lips pressed into a tight line. But then his eyes flashed and met hers, and he smirked back.
“You are right in one respect, Betinok Q’til,” Arzak replied, addressing him formally in English and then switching to Zethradan, “They aren’t Zethradan females. But it’s something to consider.”
She wanted to smack him for trying to agree with what his colleague was saying, but the human woman only reacted herself with a shaky exhale, her fingers on one hand clenching into a fist as they sat on her lap beneath the table.
“So we can let our enemies in?” the Head of Combat, J’kar, spat, looking pointedly in her direction. He was a surly-looking man, but Mira knew he was closer to Arzak simply for his job title and the fact that he was at all the meetings that Arzak held at the house.
He didn’t look at her often, and when he did, there was something strained about the look in his eyes, like it was a struggle to be in her presence. She was sure he didn’t like her, and as he started to argue against the focus on tourism and bringing in foreigners, Mira felt that that feeling was confirmed. “What good use are pretty earthlings if they attack our cities?”
“The fact that our shuttle port was attacked is enough reason to focus on our tourism,” argued Q’til, “If it had the security that any other building in this city did, we wouldn’t have had an issue at all.” He looked back at Mira and smiled at her lasciviously.
“Miss Hawthorne, my apologies. We talk of importance on improving the shuttle port. You have seen it, obviously. It needs much improvement, does it not?”
For the first time, all eyes were on her again. Even the man sitting across from her, the one who had yet to speak once at the table was watching for her reaction.
Mira had a feeling that most women weren’t brought into the business discussions. There were only two other females besides herself in that entire restaurant even. Mira sighed, her unclenched hand moving up to brush hair out of the way, hair that wasn’t there. It was a nervous tick, and she was used to having her hair down.
“I… I think it was a great shuttle port,” she replied, trying to be diplomatic about it. Mira wondered if it was always this stressful for politicians, trying to say the least offensive thing to lower the chances of fights and wars breaking out.
“It’s just… Well, it’s smaller than any other I’ve been to. I think, yeah, if it was spruced up, upgraded, you could probably fit more star shuttles and get more people coming in. From what I’ve seen, Zethrad is a beautiful place, more advanced than what others think. And I think a lot of people in the universe and the surrounding galaxies should realize that.”
After she was done speaking, she took a long breath in, gauging the reactions around her. Q’til looked satisfied with himself, the man across from her blinking back at her before he gave a quick nod and continued to eat the vegetable dish in front of him.
J’kar bored his eyes into her, his gaze filled with distrust and irritation. Arzak’s expression almost seemed surprised, one eyebrow raised, a smile playing at one corner of his lips. Mira wasn’t sure if he was making fun of her or if he was pleased with her answer, and she didn’t want to ask. She followed the unknown man’s lead and carefully ate her food, staring straight down at her plate.
“Coming from the terrorist,” J’kar spat in Zethradan, “Of course she would want more access. The Alliance just wants us to open our doors so they can overrun and colonize us like a small village.”
Mira wanted to speak up and defend herself, but she stopped paying attention to the rest of what he was saying though. At that moment, she felt a warm hand slide over her fist, which was still balled tight while the other hand fed her the food that was presented in the past two courses.
Mira’s entire body froze, almost choking on her food in surprise, as the hand moved down and loosened her fingers, then slid even further to her knee, drawing slow circles over it. The blonde swallowed her vegetables and then looked over to the person that owned the hand.
Lord Arzak didn’t let on at all, looking at his friend as he debated with Q’til on the importance of letting people in vs. the importance of keeping people out. His mouth was still in a hard line, but there was softness in his touch.
Mira tried to weigh the pros and cons of reacting or not reacting. It was harder to find the cons besides her own pride, though. It was just like it had been outside of the shuttle port when he had touched her. Each touch was an electric jolt, and as much as she wanted to hate it, it was the most interesting and important thing going on at that table. And imagining him at the pool earlier hadn’t helped with her need.
Mira tried to ignore it, but she found her legs were starting to move slowly, widening slightly to give him more room. But he never progressed, past the inside of her thigh, just a couple inches above the knee. It drove her crazy for the rest of the evening, but luckily, no one asked for her opinion again.
When dinner was finally over, the men stood up and shook hands with one another before casting their glances at the terrorist that they had eaten dinner with. It was then that Mira realized who the fourth person was and why had seemed so familiar.
Mira wondered if he was more of a servant than anything else, but no one ever expected him to do anything, so she hadn’t been sure. But then she remembered the file folder, and she heard them mention his name as they started their goodbyes.
On Niki’s folder, his photo was the one that was front and center. She’d been eating dinner with the Head of Sciences, Tyroc Valdek.
Mira wanted to smack herself. He even had a sort of scientist look about him. While Arzak and J’kar were taut with muscles from being wars themselves, Q’til was plump from his wealth, and Tyroc… He was lean and thin, much like Jak, who threw himself into his projects so much that he forgot to take care of his body sometimes.
Mira did the same, often finding herself completely dehydrated and realizing three days in that she hadn’t drank any water. Tyroc’s dark gray hair was sprinkled with streaks of black, and the style was cut short for safety within his labs.
“I must be getting back,” Tyroc said in a low voice, his words quick. He smiled tiredly at Arzak and gave a bow to each of his dinner mates, his eyes just glancing over Mira. “It was a pleasure, Lord Commander.”
“Wait- “Mira started, but she was ignored. Tyroc was out the door towards the parking area where his ride awaited, a servant sitting in the cart with hands on the chain-link reins for the Ghiholo.
Her eyes looked up, still wide, and met Arzak’s. He frowned slightly at her, but he said nothing, just keeping his hand on her back. Mira knew what he meant. He was reminding her that she was his prisoner, and that she couldn’t just very well run off after one of his associates.
“Seems your girl has taken a liking to Valdek,” Q’til said, laughing Mira looked over, ready to glare, but his lustful gaze on her made her more uncomfortable. She felt like he was taking off her beautiful dress with his eyes. “What a waste that scientist would be on her looks.”
Mira decided to ignore him, her attention turning back to the retreating for of Tyroc, who had just left out the front door. It only caused Q’til to laugh harder and Arzak’s hand climb further up to the metal on her dress, fingers locking themselves around it, like he was trying to find a hold on her to keep her staying there.
“’Tua’?” J’kar asked, echoing one of the words that Q’til had used. She knew that it meant “your girl,” and was more of an affectionate term than anything else, like “beau.”
When Mira looked at him, she found that he w
as looking right back at her with disgust, “You insult our Lord Commander even in jest. As if he would stoop so low... That’s the real talk of waste.”
“Enough!” Arzak said in English, his tone so surprisingly sharp that it made Mira jump, “We discussed many things today, and I’ll think over your proposals for our next year. But we’re done for the night. We’re leaving; come along, Mira.”
But she was upset. She wanted to tell Q’til and J’kar that their precious leader was the one feeling her up under the table, not the other way around. She wanted to tell them that Tyroc was probably the only decent-looking one between the three she had met tonight, and the most well behaved, the most tolerable. Mira pulled back as Arzak tried to get her to move, smiling sweetly at all three of them, though her eyes were alight with anger.
“The only thing wasted here tonight was my time,” Mira said, in perfect Zethradan. She had never been so proud of herself, not stumbling once. It was worth the nights she had wasted learning the language to try and impress Jak later on. “But I hope everyone has a better evening. Pleasure to meet you, gentlemen.”
Whereas the silence following her opinion about the shuttle port had been awkward, making her nervous, now all Mira felt was pure confidence. She continued to smile sweetly at them before turning to look at Arzak.
She was surprised to see that he was wearing the same expression as the other two, which was shock and almost embarrassment at having been caught in their manly gossip the entire night. Mira tilted her head to the side. “Shouldn’t we get going, Ve Dominok?”
Chapter Three
He hadn’t spoken to her the entire ride over, staring out the window and both of his fists clenched into fists. Mira had stayed silent as well, happy in her little triumph. Not even the jerking of the roads and the Ghiholo could make her stop smiling softly to herself. Once it came to a stop outside of his estate, Arzak was out the door, his hands on her and her dress as he did so.
