Chapter 15
A Lot of Bother
That morning as we'd prepared for the meeting with Creche Zivanis over tea, Araxis seemed washed out and tired.
I wasn't even sure he'd come to bed at all.
He'd also been almost preemptively irritated, and fair enough.
As we compiled meeting notes, it became clear that we'd rearranged our entire morning for nothing.
Creche Zivanis didn't have much to offer beyond the promise of support on our petition for reinstatement, which we'd already secured through the house they served under, Creche Idrelli.
"They may have some propositions for their intended votes later in the session," Inmadra suggested. "Or they may be hoping to take a closer look at Creche Thiel."
"Oh, they'd like to take a closer look alright," I'd said, dry.
Which was about the sum of it: we'd sat around the table, speaking idly about the upcoming Assembly session and Creche Zivanis's planned proposal to adjust the admixture regulations on some metallic compound that was used in circuitry, all while the sinnenthi who'd been a lot the night before – Zeventith – watched me like a hawk eyeing a particularly fat mouse.
Well, everyone else had spoken. I'd sat there, listening and making little notes on my datapad; Erra, the ranking antali diplomat on the ship currently docked at Sozamia, didn't speak Standard fluently, so the meeting was in abayan.
Which was good: I liked steeping in the language, and jotting down unfamiliar words and terms gave me something to do other than feel the sinnenthi's stare on me.
Every now and again, Inmadra would lean in to look at what I'd written down, taking the stylus and datapad from me to add tidy translations and brief summaries.
In the end, Inmadra and Araxis worked Creche Zivanis around to a percentage of sales revenue in the first five years of the new legislation in exchange for support.
Even though the deal wasn't likely to be worth much, striking a bargain was considered a good result for everyone involved.
Trade was preferable to favours, which I knew, so I'd have to watch myself moving forward.
I'd made a mental note to pass that on to Perseus in my next missive – a hard-won deal was better than a kindness, but a favour could mean a lot too; there was a lot of talk about honour-bound this and duty that – and then I smiled prettily while everyone ran through same old phrases as business wrapped up.
As they'd been leaving, Inmadra and Araxis preparing to show them out, Zeventith had pulled Araxis to the side, just past the doorway from the meeting room and into the hallway.
"Having a virra is a great deal of work," they said in abayan, inclining their head toward Araxis.
"Your virra is certainly pretty, and more compliant than I had imagined. I suspect he is also a lot of –"
The word they chose either meant trouble, bother, or labour; I made a mental note, even as my skin flushed while I moved quietly in the meeting room, tidying up cups and rearranging cushions.
"I understand that I handled the proposition inelegantly last night, so allow me to speak plainly: if you ever find him too much, consider reaching out.
Once you are in Xitera, I am certain you could have your pick of virra.
There are a number at court who like to play coy, and, as I understand it, you set them all alight when the Tournament was broadcast. I would take your virra off your hands once you're finished with him.
I would very much enjoy seeing him yield, and I would take fine care of him. I know you would accept no less."
Mortification rippled along my skin as I picked the tray up. Had they been sitting there that whole time, imagining this conversation, sinnenthi to sinnenthi? I looked up and could see the dark stripe of Araxis's back in the doorway; I could see the way he tensed, going very still.
He was going to say something honourable and stupid. It's all fun and games to say you're going to fight someone for honour, unless you end up actually, accidentally meaning it. "Sashen is not –" he began.
I stepped quickly out of the doorway, tray in hand, and bumped into him. The teapot tipped over with a clatter, the dregs spilling across the tray. "Oh!" I cried, doing my very best to look surprised.
Araxis blinked at me, black eyes wide. He reached and righted the teapot, as I launched into a lot of mindless chatter about being clumsy and silly.
The other sinnenthi watched me, amusement curling their mouth as a low, pleased trill left their throat.
"And I'll be honest, I don't even remember how to load the cleaning compartment.
I don't mean to interrupt but –" And here I fluttered my eyelashes at Araxis, who was wearing the carefully neutral expression that meant he was hiding something (probably bewilderment), "Would you mind helping me? "
"Of course, Sashen." Araxis reached to touch my shoulder, his fingers trailing down one arm to where I held the tray. And then he plucked it from me, glancing back at Zeventith. "Apologies. You can find your way?"
"Yes, of course," they said. Then, with a look in my direction that I could only describe as heated, like I was a dancer back on stage, they added, "What a sweet thing you are."
"My gratitude for your attention," I murmured, one of the stock phrases I had tucked away and then I turned and beelined toward the kitchen, Araxis saying something quiet in my wake before he followed.
The moment we were inside, he closed the door and set the tray down on the counter with a clatter.
His hands came to rest on the edge, shoulder-width apart, like he was bracing himself; his head tipped down and I could actually see him take a deep breath, his chest expanding as he shook his head. "They are vile," he ground out.
I rifled through the fridge, pulling out an electrolyte drink that I'd accepted I was hooked on.
I jumped up to the counter, sitting on the edge around the corner from him – far enough to be out of reach, but not so far that he couldn't touch me if he wanted to.
"You sure you don't want to trade me in for a newer model? " I asked. It was mostly a joke. Maybe.
He looked up at me, still braced against the counter. "I think not," he said. "Besides, you would eat them alive."
A startled laugh burst from me and I grinned. "Yeah, I may be pretty and sweet, but they don't know the half of it. What was that word –" I repeated the one that had been unfamiliar. "Is that, uh, trouble? Bother? A lot of bother?" I tried the phrase.
Araxis pushed himself off the counter, rolling his neck.
"Hm, more like labour without adequate compensation.
Picking fruit but most of it is underripe and cannot be used for preserves.
" He fluted out a thin breath, wandering around the counter to stand by my legs.
He plucked the drink from me, taking a pull before handing it back.
I guess there had to be some truth to that, and the thought made my skin flush with discomfort. I was making him work, and it wasn't like winning me in the first place had been a walk in the park – although it could have been, if he'd just been honest with me. Minus the death tournament part.
And as he toiled along, what would his reward be at the end?
We'd sit down and review our contract, and either I'd say that I wanted to stay or I'd take my credits and go.
And along the way, I'd already demanded a lot from him: be present, but not too present; care, but don't ask too much; give me space, but only the exact right amount.
Clean up my political messes, deal with the media, come get me from the guard station, rearrange your schedule so that you can indulge me when I want to be doted on.
You could have your pick of virra in Xitera. When you're done with him…
I hadn't realized that was even possible, that he could choose to be done with me. I knew from what he'd said before the judiciary ship that it wouldn't be easy for me to leave. But that he could find someone else, someone who wasn't as – difficult. You'd eat them alive.
"What are you thinking?" Araxis's quiet voice pulled me out of the spiral that was tugging at my thoughts, an undertow dragging me away from the present and into the dark fathoms I didn't like to go to.
I'd been raised on the value of obedience. Following the dictates of those who knew better. A child who couldn't be obedient was a source of strife for the community, and I carried disobedience in my heart.
Why would anyone ever invite that into their home, their creche? All I'd had was being agreeable, pliant, easy – and I'd been quick to throw that all away. What else was there?
"Sashen." Araxis moved to stand between my thighs.
His hands settled on my legs. "I do not think you are work.
You are not my duty, and any labour is of my own making.
You are not fruit, waiting to be plucked.
" His hands moved against my legs with enough pressure to start to pull me back from the oceanic shelf where I was currently floating, contemplating the black depths below.
A tug on the tether, a reminder to swim up. "You are a guiding star, beloved."
I blinked, looking at him as I tried to yank my attention to the present.
"I told you – stars are mine," I said, the words feeling a little disembodied, as if they were drifting from me rather than being shaped by my mouth.
I set my drink on the counter, fingers numb.
"You've got to come up with something else. "
He smiled up at me and shrugged. "I think there are stars enough in the cosmos for us to share, don't you? Besides, I am not inavil. I have no facility with words or pretty phrases. You must take pity on me."