Chapter 4 – A Rose by Any Other Name #3
He still flinched, like coming out of a reverie or waking from a dream in which you were falling.
"It is one of our only creche heirlooms from before –" Whatever he was going to say next was cut off, and Araxis instead stepped away and pressed a panel in the wall.
There was a hiss as a hidden door slid open, revealing a tiny room with a sink, something resembling a toilet, and another apparatus I was pretty sure was a steam wand.
"Here. I have to – check the helm, and Egnax will be waiting with tea.
If you wish to join us. Perhaps you are tired.
" He practically threw himself at the rungs and scaled them until he was standing just outside of his own room looking down at me. Back at a safe distance, I guessed.
I fought the sigh that threatened to tear free from my throat, and instead smiled up at him.
"I'd like tea. Afterwards, maybe you could show me the training room downstairs?
I'd like some time to run through a few exercises and think about what we could do together.
Besides, I need to do something before going back to sleep. What time is it anyway?"
"Late," said Araxis. "Here." He flicked his wristband and I saw the little notification pop up on mine; when I accepted the file, my wristband shivered and then synced to the local ship time.
"I will come to get you shortly, then." The pink blush was back.
Araxis turned on his heel and vanished into the dim hall beyond.
I scoffed, delighted by his – well, everything, and ducked into the bathroom to splash water on my face and use the facilities.
With the door closed, the room was barely big enough for me to move, but at least it had a mirror.
I planted my hands on the sides of the frigid metal sink and blinked at myself, taking in my reflection.
Water beaded on my skin, and although I looked a bit rumpled from sleeping in a shuttle and having a hell of a day – had I really woken up in my bunk in the den that morning?
had I spilled chalky green juice on myself before mid-day?
– my eyes were brighter than I expected.
I ran a hand through my hair, the waves no more cooperative than usual, and forced myself to really look, hard, at my own reflection.
"It's alright," I said firmly, staring into my own eyes, unflinching. "Anything is better than Seraphim. Just have fun for now, and the rest will be what it will be."
I could feel, somewhere deep within me, a weariness that I didn't think sleep would fix.
Maybe it was the gravity of the task ahead of me, or the realization that the life I had made for myself was gone.
Then again, I'd found myself on a random abayan ship that was awfully far from a luxury cruiser – and somehow I was about to sleep in the biggest bed I'd ever had, and I had a whole room to myself.
How was this a step up? What did that say about the rest of my life? And would it be such a great loss if I didn't make it through the Tournament after all, considering what I'd likely be going back to?
My thoughts were dark, and I could see them in the shadows beneath my eyes.
If I did want to kiss a cute alien before probably dying – and I thought I did – I'd better get my head screwed on right.
He liked me, even if he was shy. Maybe we could fool around a bit before I got torn to shreds on the arena sands.
And even if that was a step too far – the fooling around; I didn't get much of a say about being torn apart – I'd still place a bet on stealing a kiss or two.
I'd checked, when Araxis was thoroughly engrossed in some starcharts back on the shuttle, and abaya did like to kiss.
That was one part of the cultural database that was always at my fingertips.
So I could mope and feel sad about what was coming my way, or I could try and have a nice time on this kind of shitty ship with a pretty alien who blushed whenever I breathed in his direction.
He'd given me his jacket. He'd turned up the temperature in the shuttle. He'd put my quarters right next to his.
If I was staring down the barrel of my imminent demise, what was the fucking point in feeling miserable in the time I was going to get? The dread, the anxiety, the self-pity – more things to shove down and lock up so they couldn't get in my way.
I looked in the mirror and practiced my sunny smile. I could even make it reach my eyes, and if it looked real, well, I could probably pretend it was. Maybe pretending for long enough would make it true.
Refreshed, I headed out and joined a waiting Araxis, although I did pop back down into my bunk on the way to shrug out my sweaters – it really was warmer on the ship, but that was genuinely not saying much.
On impulse, I pulled on Araxis's jacket, which actually fit my shoulders and was only a little long in the cuffs.
When I came out, Araxis didn't say anything, but I saw his eyelids flicker as he took me in, his cheeks silvering as we made our way to the stairs.
Araxis showed me to the dining room, which was dimly lit and decently sized, big enough for a low table and a series of cushions arrayed along its edges.
A little room off the back was dark and I was surprised when we arrived that Egnax was nowhere to be seen.
There was, however, a tray on the table with a teapot, fragrant steam curling from its spout, and two earthenware cups.
I sat on one side; he sat on the side to my left, close enough that I could have reached out and touched his cheek without so much as bending my spine.
I watched as he poured the tea, setting one cup delicately in front of me.
"So," I said, plucking up the cup and inhaling the plume of spiced steam.
The heat seeped into my cold fingers, skin prickling at the change in temperature.
"Is everyone going to avoid me the whole time I'm here, do you think? "
The skin around Araxis's eyes pinched. "No," he said. His own cup sat on the table in front of him and he rotated it in place, slow and thoughtless, like a nervous tic. "It is late, as I said. And there are not many of us."
It was still weird. At least, I thought it was – maybe this was normal for abayan ships. No need to make a big procession on arrival. Guests just slipped in unnoticed, a new and unremarkable part of life. Maybe I was being culturally insensitive.
I swallowed down the tea, eager to finish so I could leave this awkward dining room and get down to more familiar territory.
I declined a refill, ignoring the way Araxis's features seemed to get even more pinched, and eventually he showed me the practice room near the cargo hold before begging off to go plan the ship's route to the Thenat system.
That was fine: honestly, I didn't mind having a bit of time alone. Despite my mirror pep talk earlier, I still didn't feel entirely like myself.
Time with my swords would help, though. It always did.
I'd like to say that I'm a good sword-dancer, and that the art necessarily translates to fighting.
The fact is that I'm, at best, passable.
Of all the skills Alet Trident figured I could learn, sword-dancing came to mind because so few people know what it looks like when done properly.
A holdover from some voltaari cult's form of worship that melded art and battle, it's pretty obscure but looks good under the right lights.
And it was something I could tutor in, which was more or less just an extended form of foreplay.
I'd never had to actually spar with anyone. The most I'd done had been more like choreography, and I'd certainly never had to use my blades to try and hurt anyone.
I ran some drills in the practice room, which was a spartan, square room with a slightly springy floor and a series of cupboards set low into the walls that must have held various tools for exercise and fitness.
Loops and hooks were mounted in the ceiling for resistance training or hanging equipment, and there was a bag hanging in one far corner, but all I needed were my blades.
I'd have been a lot more comfortable with some sultry music and dimmer lights, but I'd make do.
I warmed up enough to shrug out of the jacket, which I folded carefully and sat on the floor.
I even peeled out of the top layer of my jumpsuit, knotting the sleeves around my waist. As I launched into another routine, humming the accompanying song under my breath, I found myself trying to imagine doing this…
at another person. Trying to hurt them or scare them.
The point was usually just to be sexy. What would I do, seduce them to death?
I snorted so hard, I missed a step and had to twist awkwardly to catch myself. As my eyes swept the room and I headed back to my starting spot, I saw the door to the practice room was cracked open. I had closed it earlier to try and keep the chill from drifting in.
In that sliver of air between the door and the wall, there was a short shadow. I paused, and the shadow shifted, revealing an all-black eye and a little head peeking around the corner. There was some quiet scuffling, and then a second head appeared.
These must be the children Araxis had mentioned. I guess they didn't have bedtimes on creche ships, or the kids were sneaky like I'd been back on Seraphim. I wiped the back of my arm across my forehead, catching the sweat, and smiled. "Hi," I said, aiming for something cheerful and friendly.
The two little faces vanished in a flutter of movement, quicker than I could even blink.
Well, that about matched the welcome I'd received so far. I shook my head and went to stand in the centre of the room again, rolling my shoulders.
Another noise sounded near the door, and I twisted to look again. Three white faces peered in at me.