Joined: Book One

by Mara Gan

  “Sirtis?”

  “It’s a city on the far northern side of the planet,” Gi replied, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “Cold. Rainy. Bad even by Mathan standards. The only thing he’s ever mentioned about his life is Samúö.” He wrung his hands. “I don’t know much about her. She was kind to the boss; helped him find food when he was really young. That sort of thing.”

  I shivered, imagining a little boy huddling away from the rain.

  “One day, Samúö didn’t return from the market, so he decided to go look for her.” He shook his head.

  I sensed something bad ahead, but I wanted to know. “Did he not find her?”

  “Oh, he found her.” Gi grimaced. “She had been beaten to death.”

  I gave a small gasp, drawing my knees up to my chest. “Oh, my god.”

  “They killed her for the food she was carrying,” he said softly. “That’s all. Just the food.”

  “That’s horrible.” I paused, brushing at my eyes. “Was that when he had that—”

  “The Rage out of control?” Gi finished, shrugging. “Maybe. I don’t know. It was a rare feat that I learned this much. But it explains, Princess,” he continued gently, “why he’s so overprotective. Samúö was a friend; you’re his job. He takes his work very seriously.”

  I fingered my tunic. “How flattering.”

  “It’s not supposed to be flattering, Princess,” Gi said. “I’m just letting you know why—”

  “I know, I know,” I mumbled. “But he’s so rude. Does he need to be mean to protect me?”

  “I don’t know,” Gi said honestly. “He’s never been entrusted with someone’s life before. He probably doesn’t know how else to do it.”

  “What did he do after Samúö died?”

  Gi sat back, shaking his head. “You know about as much as I do there, Princess. Boss is not exactly forthcoming with his history. The only reason he told me about Samúö is because I had pressed him for the reason he saved me. I know he more or less ran his own gang before heading off world to make his fortune.” He fished another candy out of the bowl. “He got involved deep with the Emporium—” He turned his deep amber eyes on me. “Do you know what the Emporium is?”

  I scowled. “The mercenary alliance,” I answered. “As much as it can be called that. Don’t forget who I am, Gi.”

  He chuckled. “Of course not,” he said, raising a hand in apology. “Anyway, he got in good with the Emporium when he was young and has been building his reputation ever since.”

  “Have he and Yalan been working together long?”

  Gi shook his head. “He joined up with Yalan only last year. They’d been longtime business partners, on occasion, but Yalan had a more long-term job in mind that they finished about a month or so ago. They’ve managed to make it work. Boss has mostly been a solo act. I just… make myself useful.”

  “That’s why he doesn’t like people doing things different ways,” I reasoned. “That’s why he’s so curt with me?”

  “Probably,” Gi said, lifting his shoulders a bit. “But to be honest, I’ve never seen him as curt with anyone as he is with you. He feels responsible for you, and he takes his jobs and responsibilities very seriously.”

  I fidgeted. “Well.” I hesitated. “I also… um, kind of lied to him when we first met.”

  Gi’s eyes widened a little, his eyebrow raising. His mouth twitched. “You, Princess? You… lied?”

  “It wasn’t anything big,” I said testily, folding my arms. “I just… never told him who I really was. If he’d even known my name or what I looked like before he came here, he would have known who I was.”

  “So he’s miffed at you for lying?” Gi mused, tapping his chin. “That doesn’t sound like the boss.”

  I squirmed.

  He laughed. “He kissed you, didn’t he?” My face turned bright red as he shook his head. “Well, that would certainly make him a little miffed. I’m surprised, though.”

  “About what?” I pressed my hands to my cheeks, trying to cool down my embarrassment. “And stop trying to read me.”

  “Can’t help it, darlin’,” he said, giving me a wink. “Not that I’d need to be empathic to read your emotions right now. You lit up like a supernova.”

  “Ha-ha.” I flushed deeper. “Why are you surprised?”

  Gi screwed his mouth up, choosing his words carefully. Reading his emotions wasn’t difficult, particularly with his facial expressions; he was clearly avoiding saying something he thought might offend me. “Boss has a particular… type. He likes, um, stronger women. Dark-haired. You’re… neither.”

  “Maybe that’s why he’s being so unpleasant,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. Basically, I was too awkward-looking and weak for someone like him. I wasn’t fond of my appearance, but part of me wished Perseus had at least found something—aside from my pheromones— attractive. “The pheromone effect wore off and he sees what I really look like.”

  “Princess, you’re gorgeous and everyone knows it,” Gi said, chuckling. I flushed a little, sensing that he spoke the truth as he saw it. I silently disagreed, but that was neither here nor there. “Even Boss would think so, wrong type or not. But maybe the pheromone effect has worn off and now he feels a little silly.”

  “Why does he have such bad manners?”

  “Bad manners?” Gi repeated, confused.

  “He’s always got his feet on the table,” I clarified. “Or he’s picking at public food with his fingers. Or using really rude language. His manners are atrocious.”

  Gi laughed. “That, my princess, is a matter of perspective.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “What some might consider rude language is a fact of life for a Mathan,” Gi answered. “Frankly, his language is tame by comparison. You’ve spent time in a Mathan bar. Do you not converse with them?”

  “True… but that’s in a bar.”

  “Mathans always talk like that. Worse, really. And his feet on the table… well, another Mathan habit, but more a mercenary habit. Or just the habit of someone used to living alone.”

  “And he can’t behave himself here?” I asked, frowning.

  “Why should he?” Gi countered. “What are you going to do, fire him?” At my sigh, he continued. “And the fingers? Honestly, Princess, how dirty do you think he is? Thousands of cultures use their fingers to eat.”

  “Mathans are not one of them!”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps not. But Perseus has lived among all cultures for a long time.”

  I sighed again. “I guess I see your point.”

  Gi grinned. “And you know, Princess—I really think he does it just to annoy you.”

  I scowled. “You mercenaries are really a breed of your own, aren’t you?”

  “Lucky for you.” He winked and stood. “I should probably get back to the training room.”

  I stood with him. “I thought you had chosen not to become one of the Protectorate?” I asked, following him toward the door.

  “Not officially,” he replied. “I’m not a fan of rules. I plan to help, but I plan to be less… official about it.” He turned suddenly, making me bump right into him. He grinned down at me mischievously. “You know, Princess,” he said, “I have a particular type too.”

  Initially surprised at his about-face, I read his emotions and pushed him away with a laugh. I had little doubt, given his expression, that he wanted me to read his emotions just then. “Is this the part where you use the ‘repopulate the Halian race’ line on me?”

  “You can’t have heard that one before.” He smirked.

  I grinned and pushed him out the door. “Get out.”

  He turned and swept an elegant bow. “I shall do as my princess commands.”

  The door had slid shut before he was finished talking.

  I turned away, shaking my head. It was hard not to like Gi.

  But I was disturbed by what I’d just learned. Was this why Perseus was always so… abrupt with me? He
was embarrassed?

  I hated to admit it, but I supposed I could understand it. He liked strong, dark-haired women. The sultry, experienced type, I supposed. The kind who looked like they knew everything I did not.

  I was short, skinny, red-haired, and not exactly that strong. I was quick and fast—I did play for the Dískos team, after all—and I could hold my own in a fight as long as I had a blaster, but I would always lose at arm-wrestling. I wanted to be good at it, but my small size had long frustrated me.

  Perseus was older. Much more experienced in everything. Streetwise. I was several years younger and about as streetwise as a lizard. Aside from the destruction of my home planet, I’d been sheltered my entire life and had little social experience. The only people I dealt with either wanted my help and love, or wanted to kill me. There weren’t a lot of gray areas in my world.

  Yet Perseus, like all men, was instantly drawn to my pheromones. He had found me attractive, kissed me, and now that the effects had worn off, was annoyed that he’d kissed his charge. Not only that, but kissed someone he didn’t even remotely find attractive under normal circumstances.

  I sighed. If only explaining away my side of the story were so easy. I knew why he kissed me; but why had I kissed him?

  I grabbed a jacket, not wanting to admit that I already knew why. I needed to get out.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I picked at my sandwich with a grimace, then looked up at the waterfall and closed my eyes, grateful for the silence.

  I’d left my apartments to get away from my whirlwind of thoughts, but on the way to the Esplanade, I’d grown overwhelmed with empathic and telepathic noise, almost to the point of wanting to throw up. I’d made it here, to my favorite spot in the Hypethral, and had slowly been able to calm my senses so the only thoughts I heard were my own. The anxious pounding in my chest had slowed so that I was no longer shaking from the panic attack, but I still felt a little on edge.

  I hated being alone all the time, but I could barely tolerate being too close to people anymore. My abilities were getting too powerful for my mind to contain. I was faced with the curious conundrum of wanting to be with people yet being unable to comfortably do so.

  I did like to keep it interesting.

  I had found enough food in my cupboard to make a sandwich and brought it here, to my forest, in the hopes of hearing nothing but birds and the wind.

  Unfortunately, the only food I’d had was mustard, honey, and an old can of olives, combined with a kind of bread I didn’t even like, and the age of which I could only guess at. Synie had probably bought it for me, arguing I needed to eat healthier food, but I detested whole grains and seeds in my bread. It ruined the perfectly good, smooth texture of warm, soft bread, the kind I really loved, especially the kind straight from the oven. This bread was hard and clunky, the kind better suited to hammering nails than eating.

  I sighed and picked out another seed, flinging it into the bushes. Mustard, honey, and olives hardly made a good sandwich anyway. Or, it might, if the bread were perfect. The bread had to be perfect in order to make a decent sandwich. I flung another seed into the bushes and pondered my new task, arisen after my meeting with the NTA ambassador.

  The Narran negotiating rod presented a big problem for me. The NTA Council had finally agreed to set a conference date with me, for which I was inwardly elated, but they would only agree to do so if I approached them as any petitioner would. I had no problem with this, but their petitioning procedures were notoriously difficult, no doubt to discourage anyone from petitioning at all. To even be seen by the Council, I had to present myself, alone, with a traditional negotiating rod.

  The rod was a leftover cultural idiosyncrasy from centuries past, when discussions had been violent enough to break into fights. Tribal leaders had begun using a spear, sharpened at the tip, and whoever had been in possession of the spear was the only person allowed to speak.

  Naturally, the sharpened tip had held lots of tongues at bay.

  But this talking stick, as it were, was difficult to obtain, and I wasn’t even sure what one looked like. Getting one would be complicated, but I would put Clee on it right away.

  It was late; the waterfall glistened in the fading solar light as the Hypethral slowly slid into night. I leaned my head back against my favorite tree, loving the solidity of the trunk behind me. It was knotted and rough, but there was something so strong, quiet, and calm about this tree that brought me back to this spot. The tree I leaned against was an enormous old cedar that perpetually smelled as though it were covered in raindrops and afternoon sunshine; that pungent, earthy smell made me feel at home, every time. I liked to think Ena’s spirit lived in the tree. Ena, my mentor, the closest thing to a mother I’d ever had, who had given her life to save mine.

  I wrapped the remains of my sandwich back up, no longer hungry. I just wanted to rest here, in the solace of the green trees, as twilight descended. Maybe I could pretend I was back on Halia and the Malaika would be out soon.

  I closed my eyes and let myself pretend that were possible, listening to the pitter-pat of rain beginning to drizzle through the dense forest.

  I had almost dozed off when my ears twitched. Two people were approaching through the forest to my right, clearly headed for me.

  In a few moments, I found my Protector staring down at me, his arms folded and his perpetually sour expression plastered to his handsome features. Clee was just behind him, chewing on a flower and paying me little attention.

  She plucked another petal off and held it up before her nose, considering, then popped it in her mouth and chewed. “Hmm. Buttery.”

  Perseus raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing, his eyes turning back to me. I smiled sheepishly. “Um, hi?” I ventured.

  His eyebrow lifted further. “‘Hi’?” he repeated slowly.

  I shrugged and stood, brushing myself off. I noticed with a touch of surprise that he didn’t seem furious with me, just… resigned.

  That was progress, I supposed. “What are you two doing here?” I asked.

  “We ate dinner on the Esplanade and then came for a walk,” he replied.

  I frowned. Like… a date? Clee wasn’t exactly the type to date.

  “Well,” Perseus amended with a casual glance at Clee, “I ate. Clee is… apparently vegetarian.”

  I choked back a laugh. Who knew what Clee was? She was entertaining and full of surprises. Even I hadn’t known she was fond of eating flowers, but little about her surprised me anymore. She wasn’t entirely lucid, but she was brilliant.

  Clee eyed her flower with sudden fervor and, in one quick movement, bit the entire head off and tossed the stem. She chewed thoughtfully. “That one was spicy.”

  “Clee told me about the mission that just returned,” he said, his features softening. “And her theory.”

  I stiffened. I knew all about her theory, and I definitely didn’t want to talk about it right now. When Clee had a theory, you could place bets that she was probably right.

  A nagging thought in the back of my mind had often suggested the same theory, but I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. I’d have to confront it, probably soon, but not now. Not here.

  Thankfully, Clee distracted us by jumping up and lifting herself into the trees, swinging with agile grace to stand on the limb over our heads. “Huh,” she said, glancing around with her hands on her hips. “I see why you like climbing trees, Princess. The view is so much better up here.”

  That was a lie; the trees were so thick that Clee probably couldn’t see anything up there. But then, she saw all sorts of things the rest of us did not, so who knew?

  Perseus shook his head at her, looking vaguely exasperated. I grinned at him. “I take it your afternoon with Clee was eventful, Protector?”

  He gave me a smile that was almost pained. “Conversation with her isn’t easy, but I think I’m getting the hang of it. Besides, anyone remotely interesting is usually a little bit crazy.”

  I smiled and nodd
ed, looking back up at Clee. “And for all her craziness, she seems wiser and saner than the rest of us combined.”

  “Catch!” With only that as a warning, Clee launched a fir cone at us as she scrambled higher. I yelped and tried to dodge it, but Perseus merely caught it in one hand.

  Showoff.

  He glanced upward at her. “I’d reconsider throwing any more—”

  A fir cone launched at his head told him that Clee wasn’t reconsidering anything. He caught the second one, then, with a quick glance, threw it back into the trees, where I heard a small giggle.

  “Did you get her?” I asked, peering up.

  He didn’t even look at me. “Of course. But Clee couldn’t care less.”

  “Anyone want to try one?” Clee called down.

  At Perseus’s frown, I explained, “She’s eating them.”

  He made a gagging noise and I called up to her. “Sorry, Clee, but I think the Protector and I will maintain a strictly visual relationship with the foliage.”

  “Your loss!”

  I sighed, looking back at Perseus in time to see his eyes flick to my wrist—my bare wrist, where the MCD should be. “Don’t lecture me about the lack of guards or MCD,” I said, pointing my finger at him. “You know how that argument goes.”

  He studied me for a moment, then raised his hands in surrender. “I said nothing.”

  “You thought it.”

  “And still I said nothing.”

  “Hey, there’s a tamarin!”

  At Clee’s yelled whisper, I looked through the rustling trees to see a small tamarin munching happily on a fir cone.

  Perseus shook his head and leaned down to whisper, “What does this tell us about Clee, if she eats the same thing?”

  I stifled a laugh with my hand and shook my head. “Tamarins are quite smart,” I said, expression serious. “Maybe we should start hiring them for the Pragma.”

  Although his expression didn’t change, his dark eyes laughed at me. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead his features twisted and he muttered a curse word.