Warrior's Mate (Yadeshi Brides Book 3)

by Emma Alisyn

  Their men stood behind them, silent as the shuttle descended. Mila and Jaron would be heading for their own province, two days’ distance in an individual transport.

  Gayle squeezed. “We’re going to have to work out these flying arrangements,” she said again.

  Mila nodded, eyes wide. The city loomed in front of them. It… sprawled. A few lofty towers covered in obsidian material that absorbed sunlight peaked through a blanket of multicolored trees, ranging from deep green to a pale blue with shades of buttery yellow and leaves tinged in soft pink. It was an explosion of color. Maybe that was why their architecture was so severe.

  The buildings were almost all wood-colored, uniform, and decorations were subtle. There were few structures standing higher than two stories and as they flew closer to the ground, Gayle could tell they’d designed the city with space in mind. Space to wander, to have privacy, even when sitting in a cafe. Or so she imagined. She’d done plenty of reading, watched vids and swiped through picture files.

  But this was the reality.

  The shuttle landed and they disembarked into a private waiting area reserved for high-level dignitaries, wealthy, and the individuals who could pay for privacy. Ithann wanted her to have time to gather herself before thrusting her into the public.

  Mila and Gayle stepped out of the shuttle first. The waiting area was more of an open courtyard enclosed with opaque glass walls. Natural light poured in from overheard and there were scattered benches. One of the walls slid open and she caught a glimpse of the main docking area beyond. People bustled here and there, some with luggage, some with bots trailing behind. Then it shut and the noise was ousted again.

  “Mila,” Jaron said, voice grave.

  Gayle hugged her friend. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m settled in.”

  “Same.”

  “And you’ll tell me when…” her eyes lowered to Mila’s abdomen.

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  They parted, Ithann and Jaron speaking in low voices before clasping hands and returning to claim their females.

  “We’ll make arrangements to meet soon,” Ithann said. “And if I can influence where he is permanently stationed… our province can always utilize another scientist.”

  “Thank you,” Gayle said, refusing to look at him.

  “Are you still angry?”

  Was he still a jackass? “Of course, not.”

  He grit his teeth. “Fine.”

  Jackass led her to an antechamber rather than the main part of the port. “What are we doing here?” she asked, looking around.

  “This is a changing suite,” he said. “We can don more appropriate attire before entering the public space.”

  Gayle turned towards him. “Ithann… is it really that serious?”

  “Yes. Word has traveled of my human bride. I may be a younger son, but I am still Bdahn. As soon as we step out, eyes will be on you.”

  She folded her arms. “It’s not like my mother hasn’t spent years drilling ‘society’ down my throat.”

  “Exactly.” The satisfaction in his voice set her teeth on edge. “You are poised, and naturally beautiful. You’ll be an asset.”

  “And that’s all that matters, right?”

  His expression was mild, for once. “No. But it’s enough for now.”

  Evidently, the dresses she’d been wearing, and the pieces of jewelry, were only modest travel wear. The outfit they put her in after an attendant led her to a bathing room… stunned. The water-only bath with another skin scrub and hair treatment—brief but thorough—relaxed her. Ithann was in an adjacent sunken tub with his own attendant—also a female, which had almost sent Gayle to cussing, but the matter of fact demeanor of everyone in the room told her to cool her heels. Customs were different all over and he didn’t even glance at the female except to give brief directions on what accouterments to use.

  Still. After today, no one else would be rubbing down his skin but her. It did bode well, though, for the mentality of the society that there wasn’t anything demasculinizing in a warrior who received beauty treatments.

  The dress they put her in…

  “Ithann, I can’t even walk in this.”

  It was a long column of cream threaded with gold that offset her skin perfectly. Sleeveless, the top began right above her breasts where it was held up with a lariat-style necklace of gold and polished stones. It was nearly austere in its modesty, despite the snug mermaid fit—and lacked slits of any kind. She couldn’t walk more than a half step at a time.

  “You cannot fight in it,” he corrected. “It’s a sign of respect that you would hamper your movements. We go to meet my parents.”

  Oh. Well, that changed things. Her braids were coiled in an intricate style and cosmetics applied to her face. Nothing dramatic, though she noticed the Yadeshi tended to play up the eyes and cheeks if they did anything. Lips, they would leave mostly neutral.

  “You have nice shoulders,” he added, eyes traveling over her body. “It’s an area many females neglect. Or so my mother always says.”

  Her shoulders were nice. Toned, with just the right amount of muscle. Her skin gleamed from a lightly scented oil. Ithann approached her, a box in his hand.

  “You must wear these. If we were bonded, it wouldn’t be necessary.”

  The box revealed two sets of bangles. Gold again, the metal twisted in a distinct pattern of loops and swirls.

  “What do they mean?” she asked. The way he’d spoken, she was sure the jewels wasn’t just for decoration.

  “The pattern belongs to my family and is discernible. The gold says you are a concubine, and the number of bracelets declares you are the concubine-wife of a warrior of highest rank.”

  He explained this all, his voice detached, as he slipped them over each of her wrists. Gayle began to pull away and his hand clasped her arm.

  “You cannot refuse to wear these, Gayle. It’s the law, not just a custom. And for your own protection. Human women are… popular here. Some of the warriors misunderstand their manners at times.”

  Misunderstand. That sounded like code for human women were considered free for all. She grimaced. It wasn’t unexpected. Any culture—especially on Earth—tended to consider women outside its social structure as open season. Usually because men wanted easy sex and no consequences.

  “What’s wrong, Gayle? Your face has gone dark.”

  She told him.

  His brow rose. “That isn’t your problem, however. I am attempting to be responsible for you.”

  Gayle scowled. And wasn’t that the crux of the real issue? She didn’t want anyone responsible for her. She wanted to walk out of the port, into the society and just… walk into a readymade life. She sighed. Which was stupid. She needed time to acclimate herself, time to learn the culture, the language, the laws. Time to find friends and start a career and apply for any education she might need. There was no way she could just start a new life with the snap of her fingers. At least Ithann was offering her food, clothing, shelter, and protection while she got her feet under her.

  Maybe she should stop whining and be patient, like he’d said. Meet the parents, get the lay of the land. Make plans not predicated on the necessity of having to eat.

  She squared her shoulders. “Fine. I’m being childish. But we both understand what the endgame is, correct?”

  “I didn’t want you because I thought you were weak, or needed to be cloistered. In time, the entire province will kneel at your feet.”

  15

  The city was beautiful. The thing that struck her was the quiet. There was the same bustle of daytime life as in any other place, but very little of the frazzled, hurried feel of a big city that should be full of people with individual, pressing agendas. It felt relaxed in a way that amazed her. As if, yes, everyone had something to do, but if they decided to stop and smell the roses, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

  They liked parks. Small parks, big parks. Tiny squares on corners with
just a single bench and a patch of earth planted with wildflowers. Plenty of places for people to sit, reflect, enjoy the day, and then get up and go on about their business.

  She also paid attention to what the women wore. She saw some of the sheer gowns Ithann had tried to convince her were the current style. And several styles of sundresses, both long and scandalously short. Arms were bare for the most part, and everyone had the tattoos. Males either went bare chested, or didn’t. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the various styles. With humans, whatever was in fashion that season tended to influence cut and color—but here it was as if whatever kind of clothing came to mind, someone just dressed themselves in it.

  And their skin. She’d never fully realized how many shades of blue there were. From deep azure to palest sky and everything between. She recognized undertones as well, and not just in the different kinds of black hair.

  There were humans. Not many, but enough that a bit of the anxiety she hadn’t realized she’d been holding dissipated. Of course, she would be different, but she wouldn’t be odd. And there were other alien races walking around as well. Humanoid for the most part, but clearly not Yadeshi or Earthling.

  The possibilities excited her. She doubted the entire province would be at her feet, but Gayle couldn’t deny that when she’d exited the transports into a natural scape courtyard, she felt like the world was at her feet.

  Ithann took her hand. “Welcome.”

  Gayle looked around. A multicolored stone stepping path wound throughout a sea of wildflowers. She heard the tinkle of water and knew there would be small hidden streams and grottoes. The mansion was single story, and as they’d approached from the air, she’d seen that it sprawled over several city blocks, most of the common hallways outside under an overhang of roof.

  “It’s lovely,” she said. “Do your people spend a lot of time outdoors? The architecture reminds me of… hmm. Kind of a mixture of old Spanish and ancient Chinese.”

  “I’ll accept your word for it. I’m glad you’re pleased. Come.”

  He led her across the courtyard and opened one of the ornately carved doors. Opened it with a knob. Her eyes widened as she realized this complex was either low-tech, or built to give the appearance of low-tech.

  They stepped into a receiving room of sorts. The floor was a polished wood and the walls covered in textured paper. It was empty except for a long, low table in the center and two men lounging on a scattering of plush pillows. She glanced around and couldn’t tell where the light was coming from—there were no discernable fixtures. The air just glowed as if they were in the middle of a beach at high noon.

  One of the men glanced over and Gayle stared. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Even reclining on a cushion, casual. His drape of hair pooled behind him, a plum sheen to the black that matched Ithann’s. The bone structure of his face an advertisement of perfect masculine symmetry. He didn’t have Ithann’s bulk, but the arms revealed by his sleeveless shirt were sculpted, skin flawless.

  Ithann placed a finger under her chin and closed her jaw. She glanced at him, brow arched at the sour but resigned expression on his face.

  “Excuse me,” she said.

  “My elder brother Jovari,” Ithann said. “I thought you might like to meet him first.”

  The male rose from his cushion and approached, hands outstretched. “And why shouldn’t she, when there is a lovely interrogation awaiting her? You must be Abigail,” he greeted, his voice a honey-rich tenor she could listen to all day.

  “I just might throw Ithann over for you,” she said, taking the outstretched hands. “You’re gorgeous.”

  He smiled and led her to the low table and the other male who reclined, amusement on his face.

  “Beloved, I have the pleasure of introducing the newest beautiful person in our family,” Ithann’s brother said. “Abigail, Lyrden.”

  “How can you stand it?” she asked Jovari’s mate. “He’s just too pretty. I’d be constantly checking my hair.”

  “You get used to it after a while,” Lyrden said, his voice husky and pleasant. But dry. “It’s my burden, I suppose.”

  “I must not be trying hard enough to make up for the difficulty,” Jovari replied, his voice a rough purr as he touched a fingertip to his mate’s chin.

  She watched in fascination as the color of Lyrden’s cheeks darkened, just a bit. He cleared his throat. “Behave, you scamp. We’re in company.”

  Jovari sighed and leaned back into his cushions. Ithann settled next to her and reached for a crystal pitcher, filling a glass for Gayle and one for himself.

  “Is there anything I should know before I take her in?” he asked Jovari.

  The brother gave her an appraising look. “I hope you aren’t a delicate little thing, even though you look it. We’re in the middle of a war.”

  Gayle hesitated. “The Platon? Ithann told me the basics, I think.”

  He nodded, sipping his own drink. Lyrden toyed absently with Jovari’s hair. “Mother had a fit—she wanted to retaliate for the assault on you. Our father managed to convince her to err on the side of patience.”

  She glanced at Ithann in time to see his wince. “I was hoping that dressing Gayle would distract her for a week or two while we decide how to handle things. The last time Mother went on a rampage…”

  “I know.”

  Gayle didn’t. “What happened?”

  Lyrden hummed. “People died, sister. And a few bystanders. We were in blood debt for three years.” He shuddered. “I couldn’t show my face in the theater for six months until tempers cooled. And as pretty as Jovari is, he can’t sex me all the time. The most boring months of my life. Ghastly.”

  She thoroughly sympathized. “That’s what Ithann wants me to do. Stay at home until he thinks the Platon is no longer a threat.”

  Lyrden rolled his eyes. “Oh, Ithann. The Platon will always be a threat. And if not him, then another. Use a different excuse to keep her tied to the bed until she’s bonded and pregnant.”

  Gayle eyed Ithann sideways. His expression was stone. Which told her Lyrden must have hit a string of truth.

  “Don’t worry,” Jovari’s mate continued. “Once Mother is done with you, we’ll chat, hmm? Just the two of us. I’ll let you know how to survive this thing.”

  Ithann led her into an even smaller room. It continued with the minimalist theme, a dark square table low to the floor and jewel-colored cushions. Except here and there Gayle spotted feminine touches. A tall rose-colored vase of wildflowers in a corner. On one wall a watercolor scenic painting, unframed and without a protective covering. Actual canvas, not digital. One section of a wall was pulled away to reveal a private garden and there a woman knelt in front of a tiny water fountain, staring into the water, her expression serene.

  She was dressed in a column of rose gold, similar in style to the dress Gayle wore, but with intricate embroidery in the fabric. Gayle blinked, and glanced at Ithann sideways. The woman’s hair streamed down her back in micro braids almost identical to Gayle’s except for color. He led her across the room and out into the sunlight.

  Gayle then noticed a warrior standing in the shadows, hands clasped behind his back as he observed the woman.

  It was hard to judge age in the Yadeshi. After what would be a human thirty something, they just didn’t show maturity in anything other than mannerisms or a certain solemnness in their expressions.

  Ithann approached the woman and knelt in front of her, a graceful bending of his back as his forehead touched the ground.

  “Mother.”

  The woman touched his shoulder and he straightened. “I’m pleased to see you return from your long journey.” She paused, and the formal tone of her voice dried into something more sardonic. “I hope your temperament has improved somewhat.”

  “You must ask my wife.”

  “Son,” the warrior in the shadows said, and came forward. Ithann rose and clasped his father’s arm. No kneeling.

&nbs
p; Interesting. Her reading and various discussions with Ithann and the Yadeshi caused her to speculate that the culture leaned towards matriarchal—though the males would never admit it. But he didn’t bow to his father—he bowed to his mother, greeted her first.

  She might like it here.

  Since her would-be husband had given her no instruction on protocol, Gayle remained standing, arms at her sides, expression pleasant. When in doubt, err on the side of not speaking until spoken to. That could never lead one astray in a foreign culture.

  Ithann returned to her and took her hand, leading her to his mother. “Ythana, my bride, Abigail Afolayan.”

  Did she remain standing until asked to sit? Did she kneel like Ithann had done? Irritation surged that he hadn’t prepped her for the manners involved in being introduced to his mother, a noblewoman, for the first time.

  But Ythana took Gayle’s hand and drew her down next to her, reaching to her other side and presenting Gayle with a pillow for her knees.

  “You may go,” she told her son.

  Ithann retreated without a word, surprising Gayle with his easy acquiesce. “He never does anything I ask so easy,” she muttered.

  Ythana smiled. “Training comes over time. My mate will remain, but he will not speak, as this is business for females.”

  “What business?”

  Ythana turned her attention towards the gurgling fountain, reaching out a hand to intercept a stream of water. “The business of mating, of course. A science, a business, however you choose to call it. Males never look beyond beauty and the mere suggestion of intelligence. But choosing a mother—or father—of future children is no lightweight matter.”

  “Would you have preferred he chose a Yadeshi woman?”

  “Preferred? No. We’ve seen that the children of such unions are strong. There is no reason to believe Ithann’s heirs will be any less Yadeshi for having a human mother.”

  Ythana turned her head towards Gayle again, eyes piercing. “You are lovely. He said you would be. Is there anything more to you than beauty, Abigail Afolayan?”

  “I’d like to find out.” Gayle’s hands rested on her thighs. She didn’t look away from her mother-in-law’s gaze. “Did he tell you I fled Earth? My father wanted me to wed a man not of my choosing. I like to pick. And I want to find my own path. I didn’t come here to become Ithann’s dream housewife.”