Chapter Twelve
Sara watched Dramok Dolgra’s shuttle take off, She turned her gaze to Groteg. “Being the head spy on a planet pays well if he can afford to hand out these as a thank-you.”
“I guess.”
They continued to gaze at each other for the space of several seconds. Sara could tell the wheels were turning in her Nobek’s mind just as they were in hers. Was it truly appreciation for them taking care of and guarding Charity? Dolgra hadn’t shown the least hint of anything but genuine gratefulness. Did the stunning and single Dramok’s gesture contain a hidden motive?
Her consternation Dolgra might be interested in them returned. Was the mysterious spy for Kalquor making a bid to court Clan Amgar, a family with three busy children, hectic regular jobs, and a farm that consumed their daylight hours?
When she thought of it in those terms…
Amusement lit Groteg’s face at the same instant Sara laughed. “Nah,” they chorused. Chuckling, they resumed their usual busy day.
* * * *
Charity had resolutely focused on chores and a university assignment during the morning. When Mitag commed her about joining him in town shortly following lunch, she felt justified in asking for the afternoon off. After some debate, Sara and Groteg gave their permission. They added the stipulation Mitag would pick her up. She wasn’t to leave his sight while she was off the farm.
The Imdiko was more than happy to agree. In fact, he sounded a bit insulted anyone would question he’d do so. “As if I’d have you walk to town or beg a ride. Of course I’ll keep an eye on you. Do they think a guy who owns a business as successful as mine could be so irresponsible?”
He was over his pique by the time he landed his craft on the Amgar lawn. He greeted Charity’s hosts cheerfully. “Jennifer and I will do dinner out, if it’s okay. When would you prefer I have her home?”
Charity managed to stop her eyes from rolling. She hated being treated as if she were a high school kid who had a curfew. It was only because everyone was worried for her welfare, she reminded herself. She concentrated on appreciativeness for their concern.
Sara and Groteg merely asked she inform them of how late her plans would go and where she’d be as soon as she and Mitag had decided on their itinerary. Delighted to be regarded as a responsible adult, she hugged the surprised pair before dashing on board Mitag’s shuttle.
“Where are we off to?” she asked Mitag.
“Here and there. I haven’t made particular plans; I simply wanted to see you. I hope that’s okay.”
“Spontaneity is my middle name.”
“I have to stop by the town’s event hall for a minute to see how my crew’s doing. They’re setting up the reception decorations for the big party. Once I see they have it under control, I’m all yours,” Mitag grinned.
“Oh, is it the Western buckaroo wedding in tails? I so have to see this.”
Minutes later, she was standing in the midst of a space that shouldn’t have looked as good as it did, given the description Mitag had shared. She blinked at the hay bales set in interesting patterns against the walls, an arch made of farm tools, and another of chicken wire. She gaped at white and silver tulle bunting fashioned in astonishingly complicated bows, which decorated the gleaming steel and bale squares. White roses cascaded artfully in resplendent glory.
“If there’s a section of heaven specifically for farmers and ranchers, this could be a fair representation. It’s actually elegant, Mitag. You pulled it off.” She couldn’t keep admiration from her tone.
He beamed. “Thanks. I’ll be glad when it’s done. I look forward to the bride no longer comming me to share yet another of her bright ideas.”
“Such as flannel? Livestock?”
His hand covered her mouth as he darted terrified glances around the room. “Hush! I don’t trust her to not be lurking, ready to spring on me.”
They were still laughing when Ilid stepped in the gleaming, gorgeous hall. “I was leaving the bakery and saw you two come in here.” He scanned the room. “Swanky setup. This isn’t the horror show you were describing, Mitag.”
“I don’t do horror shows. I’m talented that way,” the Imdiko asserted in a pompous tone.
“It should have been a monstrosity, but he made it beautiful, didn’t he?” Charity stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to Ilid’s cheek. His mood appeared to brighten at her welcome.
“I had no idea farm tools could work for a romantic setting. Or hay.” Ilid chuckled and nudged Mitag.
“Hay can make for decent bedding if you loosely pile it.” Charity offered a wicked leer.
“Are you talking from experience?” Mitag wasted no time jumping on the innuendo.
“Not yet. But I can tell you with some assurance, feedbags do in a pinch.”
“And you know this for a fact how?” Ilid demanded playfully.
“Ask Detodev.”
“Now it makes sense why she smells so strongly of our strong, silent Nobek,” Mitag told Ilid.
“I caught it, but I wasn’t going to say anything. I thought he had to get up early this morning?”
“It’s easy to get up when you’ve been up all night. In more ways than one.” Mitag’s sally earned Ilid’s laughter.
“What do you mean, you could smell him on me? I showered.” Charity thought they were making fun of her. Maybe disbelieving her.
“You smell strongly of soap, shampoo, and a little less powerfully of Detodev.” Ilid’s purple eyes twinkled. “The Kalquorian sense of smell is quite sensitive. You weren’t aware?”
“I’d heard but…you can actually tell we…” Charity groaned. “That means Groteg and Utber must have smelled Detodev too. And Dramok Dolgra! The Kalquorian farmhands…prophets, are you saying if I sleep with a Kalquorian, every other Kalquorian around me can tell?”
A young Dramok assistant of Mitag’s walked past, carrying an armful of roses. “From at least three feet away, Matara,” he snickered.
Charity’s face burned as Mitag and Ilid roared laughter. She didn’t mind her intimate hijinks revealed to those she hoped to indulge in future intimate hijinks with…but half the damned town would realize it too?
“How am I supposed to get away with anything on this ridiculous planet?”
* * * *
“The traitor’s daughter is roaming the main drag in the company of two Kalqs. She’s all but crawling on them, the little whore. She’s grabbing their arms, putting her cheek on their shoulders, letting them touch her.”
Wilkes frowned at his com, from which Scott O’Neal’s snarling voice emitted. He was glad his office door was closed at the Earther security headquarters. It kept his space soundproof against anyone listening in. Nonetheless, he instinctively lowered the unit’s volume. “You aren’t being obvious you’re watching her, right? No one’s close enough to hear you talking like this?”
“‘Course not.” O’Neal adopted a more cautious tone nonetheless. “Damn shame we have to hide our moral decency when sluts behave so disgusting in public. We should be able to string ‘em up on sight.”
Wilkes took a deep breath and hoped he hadn’t made a mistake hiring O’Neal to spy on Nath when she was in town. His fellow traditionalist wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he worked at the feed and seed store, much of which was open to the outdoors. Its central location in Sunrise’s main business thoroughfare offered an excellent view when it came to watching the townspeople. From his vantage point, O’Neal could see up and down the main street and not be obvious…as long as he wasn’t glowering at those he looked at.
“Just do as I asked and keep an eye on her. Don’t let anyone see you do so, okay? She’ll get what’s coming to her when we send her to New Bethlehem.”
Wilkes clicked off. Nath and a couple Kalquorians were apparently forging friendships, if not outright affairs. It made getting his hands on her a lot harder. He had no problem taking Kalqs out if he had no better choice, but it would raise a lot of questions for anyone to go missing or show up dead.
“Fuck me,” he sighed. His problems where Charity Nath was concerned kept mounting.
The instant the door of the small but lovely one-story home opened that evening, Charity breezed in, not waiting for an invitation from the surprised Detodev. “We come bearing food. Where’s the dining room?”
“Uh…” The Nobek blinked at her, then Ilid and Mitag, who’d waited outside the door. Their arms were full of covered to-go trays from a local eatery, which served both Kalquorian and Earther fare. “What’s this?”
Ilid shrugged. His expression reflecting amusement, he nodded to Charity. “Ask her. I’m just a pack animal.”
“You’re far more, darling Dramok.” She stepped close to Detodev and wondered if he reeked of her as she apparently did of him. She wondered if the whole Amgar farm was gabbing about their night of fun. Or maybe she attached too great of importance to her tattered reputation. Perhaps nobody gave a damn. She brushed aside the embarrassing realization and smiled at the Nobek. “We need to clear the air. Stop tip-toeing around each other. No better way than over dinner.”
She could feel his walls going up though he didn’t twitch. His gaze remained fixed. Charity sighed and put her hand on his arm. “It takes too much energy for me to pretend to be who I’m not when it comes to my friends. You three make me feel safe. I’ll feel safer if I don’t have to play a part. Don’t you think it’ll be best for all concerned?”
He continued to regard her steadily, but allowed his head to twitch the barest of nods. His gaze swung to the two men waiting for permission to enter. “Come in. The dining room is this way.”
She glanced at his home as she followed him from the entryway through a tiny but charming living room. He probably called it a greeting room like most Kalquorians, she amended. It appeared little used, as if waiting eternally for guests.
He led her to a small dining room. She scanned her surroundings, curious how a solitary beast like Detodev lived. It turned out simply, but she noted the furnishings were comfortable and tasteful. His decorating was spare, consisting mainly of some small vid pictures on the sideboard along the wall. They were of an elder clan in expensive clothes posed formally. She saw another shot of them with three boys of various ages. It was easy to pick out a young but already grim-visaged Detodev. He was the spitting image of the man who was apparently his Nobek father, minus the jagged scar stamped from the elder man’s cheek to his jaw. Charity guessed Detodev had been about ten when the picture had been snapped.
The stills were of his family. No one smiled in the portraits, and she wondered how happy his childhood had been. It hadn’t sounded particularly joyous from the little he’d told her the night before.
Mitag’s organizing skills came to the fore once they were in the dining room with its unadorned but polished wood table and matching sideboard and china cabinet. An open window ushered in a lovely breeze, on which the scent of spring wafted in.
The Imdiko set out the food in its trays buffet style on the table’s low surface. When Detodev produced dishes and utensils, Mitag set the table so fast, Charity swore they were sitting on comfortable floor cushions to the meal less than a minute after they’d walked in.
“How about those true confessions?” Mitag asked.
“Food first. Naked souls look better when stomachs are full. We’ll save dessert for after the conversation, because sugar heals all hurts.” Charity felt she’d imparted great wisdom despite Detodev’s snort.
She enjoyed her meal and was relieved the Nobek’s appetite seemed undiminished despite her issuing a challenge he couldn’t find appealing. He spoke little, which was probably best given he shoveled impressive quantities of food in his face. Ilid had gone quiet too after a day of easy chatter. He seemed uncomfortable. Charity and Mitag carried the conversation, determinedly bright and cheerful.
Charity left just enough room for the slice of chocolate cheesecake she’d decided would be her reward for braving Detodev’s wrath at her house-crashing ruse. She set her empty plate aside and looked at the men in turn. They gazed back, giving her their full attention.
She dove in. “Dramok Ilid and Imdiko Mitag, my name is Charity Nath. This is my story.”
She told them everything. She started with how the original Earth’s leader Browning Copeland had escaped aboard a battlecruiser when Kalquorian invasion had been imminent at the end of the war. As one of his leading generals, her father Borey Nath had also been on board. He’d brought his daughters, Charity and her older sister Hope, barely getting off the planet in time. Nuclear blasts, set to trigger if Earth were invaded, detonated and destroyed major cities as they fled the planet. There’d been no opportunity for Faith Nath, Charity’s mother, to join them. She’d been away on business in one of the cities that had gone up in a mushroom cloud. In the end, the whole world had been rendered incapable of sustaining life.
“My father had been working for years to find a way to remove Copeland from power,” she told her gawking audience. “From what I’ve gathered, he and his accomplices were set to move against the Holy Leader within weeks. Maybe days. Then your fleet showed up, Armageddon hit, and we were stuck under Copeland’s thumb again among his most loyal servants. Dad continued to play his role of dutiful general while starting from scratch on how to defeat Copeland.”
Charity described how she’d been forced to marry Browning Copeland at fifteen years of age, the latest in a long list of young wives. The wedding had been a farce, the Holy Leader merely declaring them man and wife as her protesting father was arrested. She recounted the harrowing tale of being rescued from rape by her sister and Clan Piras, followed by the Naths’ desperate flight from the ship. They’d taken Copeland prisoner as they’d escaped.
“Piras, his clan, and their spyship crew made it look as if we’d all died when Copeland’s battlecruiser was destroyed.”
“Then Copeland really is alive,” Ilid said. “Kalquor has him?”
“Under the supervision of my father, who insisted on the responsibility.” Charity grimaced and hurried on to finish the tale. “I was given a false identity in order to live safely with my aunt and uncle in Galactic Council space. When the Darks invaded and took over, we escaped to Alpha Space Station. There, I was identified and outed by a Dark-ridden member of the GC. The Earthtiques on Mercy and New Bethlehem, probably in the governments’ highest offices, put a bounty on my head.”
“For what purpose? You were just a kid when it all went down.”
“They’re fanatics, Ilid. The Earthtiques in charge think if they can capture me and force me to admit Copeland’s still alive, they can turn back the clock and make Earthers live under their religious tyranny again.”
Detodev frowned. “The so-called faked footage of Copeland in a cell that went out a few weeks back—?”
Charity nodded. “It was real. We’re pretty sure the Darks were behind it.”
“If the Earthers are at each other’s throats and set against Kalquor, it’ll help the Darks get a foothold.” Ilid looked sick. “The old ruse of ‘divide and conquer.’”
“Exactly.”
“I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of it.”
“I can’t believe you went through such an awful ordeal,” Mitag said. “You were only fifteen when Copeland decided to marry you? That’s disgusting!”
“Beware the holiest of holy rollers. In my experience, they’re usually the worst of the bunch.” She gazed at them. “There’s my tale in a nutshell. I’m trusting you guys by telling you the truth. Quid pro quo, gentlemen. Who’s next?”
Detodev had glowered fiercely through her story. “Isn’t one awful history enough? I hate how you were victimized by that sanctimonious bastard. I don’t want to hear if Ilid and Mitag had to deal with anything even half as bad.”
“You simply don’t want to share.” Mitag’s tone was gentle.
“Why should I? I’m in no danger the way she is. Why is this discussion necessary? It’s on the level of introducing ourselves to potential clanmates’ parents. I have no intention of joining a clan.”
Charity gazed at him, recognizing the angry outburst for what it was: a Nobek’s helplessness to defend those he cared for from past hurts. His own personal pain and fear of revealing it played a part as well.
Her hand covered his. For a wonder, he didn’t draw from her as she’d half-expected him to, though he continued to glare at her.
“If you’re near me, you need to understand the danger you could be in. As for why you should share your stories, I get the idea you’re open to being friends. Friends are honest with each other. Forget clan stuff; if we can’t be ourselves when we’re together, then mere friendship is impossible.” Charity glanced around the table to include Ilid and Mitag. “I want us to be friends. Though I can’t wait to get off Planet Farm Hell, I’ll be up front on another matter: having indulged in one Kalquorian—” she grinned at Detodev “—the chance to enjoy sex with three guys at once is exciting. But only if we’re friends, which means you have to tell me who you are. You have to trust me as I’ve trusted you.”
* * * *
Scott O’Neal edged close to the open window. He’d followed the Nath woman and her Kalq friends to this home on the outskirts of Sunrise. Having lived on Haven among its Kalqs and Kalq-loving freaks for seven stomach-churning years, he was aware whom the pleasant house and its neat lawn belonged to: Nobek Detodev, a coward who avoided conflict as much as possible.
O’Neal was a few feet from the window when he heard a woman’s throaty laugh. On the heels of it came the comment, “Well, who wouldn’t want to win the triple crown of cocks? Or would it be more accurate to call it a six-pack, since you have two apiece?”
The ribald statement was greeted by low masculine laughter. Scott snarled to hear one answer, “If it weren’t for the table covering the evidence, you’d know I’m up to the challenge.”
More laughter, then quieter mutterings he couldn’t make out. O’Neal bared his teeth. Were the demons even now naked and reaching for the Jezebel? Had wicked debauchery begun in earnest? He crept closer, determined to see the wicked scene. He clutched his holstered blaster on his hip. It was illegal for him to possess it since he wasn’t a member of law enforcement or the military, but legalities on an immoral planet had never been high on his priorities. When surrounded by evil, a man had to take precautions.
Sometimes a man had to act righteously whether he was in danger or not.
O’Neal could finish the Kalqs while they concentrated on the whore. He could grab Nath and bring her to badly needed judgment from those who’d pay him well for her capture. Maybe he’d get Wilkes’ share too.
Wilkes sure as hell didn’t deserve the bounty. He was playing it too safe, trying to sneak the slut to New Bethlehem instead of simply grabbing her and making her confess to the Holy Leader’s whereabouts. O’Neal had a vision of himself leading the charge to rescue Browning Copeland, the hero of Old Earth who’d put things right again.
His hold on the blaster tightened. The house was isolated. Probably no one would hear the blaster go off. If they did, if they cared enough for a coward Nobek to investigate, he and the whore would be long gone.
He drew level with the window and peered in.
* * * *
Having used raunchy humor to relax her tense companions a touch, Charity returned to a serious state. Her voice low in gentle encouragement, she said, “Come on, guys. Time to ‘fess up.”
Detodev’s gaze lowered to his empty plate. He refused to speak. Ilid hunched. Sadness pulled at his features. He showed no sign he’d break the silence either.
“Have any of you ever heard of Clan Cyret? They were in the news, oh, it would have been about twenty-one years ago.” Mitag glanced at them in turn. His usually bright features were calm but tight.
Charity had the insight that whatever he referred to, he could have told them exactly how long ago it had been to the day. To the hour. She’d heard herself use the same offhand tone when discussing the moment she’d been told her mother hadn’t escaped Earth alive. Despite Borey’s and Hope’s frantic coms as they’d boarded the ship taking them from Armageddon, despite her father’s desperate attempts to have the military get her out of harm’s way, Faith hadn’t been able to leave Paris in time. The same darkness that haunted Charity over that awful day lurked beneath Mitag’s words.
Ilid’s brow creased. He shook his head in answer to the Imdiko’s question. “I’d have been barely a year old.”
“The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Cyret’s a common name. No. I don’t think so.” Detodev’s eyes rose to meet Mitag’s.
“During training camp, you and your fellow Nobeks might have had a class on how to handle a clanmate who goes off the deep end. It would probably be thanks to Clan Cyret.” Mitag’s studied calm never wavered, though a tremor entered his speech.
Detodev’s brows drew together. “It rings a bell. I do recall a few lessons on warning signs of clanmates’ stress and when to seek outside help. There were several case studies. Cyret may have been among them.”
“You’ll have to catch Charity and me up,” Ilid prompted when Mitag failed to continue. The Imdiko’s gaze had gone distant.
He drew a breath. “Dramok Cyret was a territorial councilman involved in a bribery scandal back in the day. He was facing a prison sentence and decided to kill himself. In his suicide note, he said his clanmates and child would suffer too much without him to guide them, so he planned to kill them first. I suppose he was the definition of a narcissist to think in such a way.”
Charity’s heart lurched. “Tell me you weren’t the child in this story.”
Mitag offered her a sad smile. “Unfortunately, I was.”
“How old were you?”
“Three.” Mitag swallowed. “Cyret took out my Nobek father first, since he was the clan member best equipped to stop him. He caught him from behind by surprise. Put a knife in his neck, severing his spinal cord. Then he cut his throat.”
“Fuck,” Ilid breathed.
“It was quick and quiet, based on the official reports. My Imdiko father was also caught by surprise, but he had the opportunity to fight. My mother and I were upstairs while my fathers struggled on the lower floor. The report said she must have thought she couldn’t get past Cyret to escape. She hid me in a drawer in a guest room, hoping to save me. After he overcame my Imdiko father, Cyret cornered and killed her in their sleeping room. When he couldn’t find me, he committed suicide.”
Detodev and Ilid stared at him. Charity guessed they were as thunderstruck as she. Their sweet, bubbly Mitag had been exposed to an unthinkable horror.
“Do you…you don’t remember any of the actual killings, do you?” Ilid asked. “Please say you don’t.”
“I recall scattered pieces of that night. Mostly my mother whispering to stay quiet and not come out of the drawer, even if Cyret called for me. ‘It’s a game, and you lose if he finds you. Don’t answer if he calls you. Don’t fall for his tricks,’ she said. I thought it was a scary game. I didn’t want to play because she looked terrified.”
Charity grabbed his hand, wishing she could erase the horror on his expression. She clutched Detodev’s too, needing his strength. His return grip shook minutely.
“I remember feeling I was suffocating in my dark drawer while my mother screamed in the distance. Then the urge to come out when Cyret shouted my name and ordered me to. A Dramok’s command is hard to resist…but the image of my mother’s face and her desperate voice telling me to stay put…it somehow kept me where I was.”
“Thank the Mother of All. And your mother.” Charity wasn’t sure if the hoarse utter came from Ilid or Detodev. Her gaze was riveted on Mitag. He didn’t appear devastated or traumatized, but there was a heartbreaking vulnerability in his expression. It tore at her.
“There was a sound I couldn’t identify. I later learned it was the blaster Cyret used to kill himself. I guess he was too much a coward to use the knife. Or maybe he thought using a blaster on the rest of my parents would be heard and bring help too soon. But no one heard anything. Not the screams, not the shot…no one came.”
“How long were you in the drawer before you were found?” Charity’s spoke in a thready whisper.
“The silence afterward went on forever. I finally decided to disobey my mother and search for her. I also needed the bathroom terribly. I don’t know if I saw the bodies. I just remember blood. Lots of blood. Pools of it. My next memory is standing outside in the dark and crying. I don’t think I comprehended my family had been murdered, but I understood something was wrong.”
“You must have blocked some of it out,” Ilid noted. “Which is good.”
“My only other recollection of that night is of a stranger putting me in a bed in a place I didn’t recognize. It might have been a hospital. I think I was given an injection to make me sleep.”
“All this time. We’ve been acquainted for over a year, but I never guessed you’d seen anything like…” Detodev’s rumble faded.
“Did your extended family take you in?” Charity blinked to keep tears from falling.
“A clan of uncles and an aunt. They already had children and…well, I guess I was a burden. News media was eager to run stories about the miracle boy who’d survived his infamous father’s murderous rampage. It went on for years and drove everyone around me crazy. My cousins hated the amount of attention I got, though I would have done anything to be out of the spotlight. They saw to it their friends disliked me too.”
“Oh, Mitag. On top of what you’d already suffered, their attitude was horrible.”
“The notoriety followed me when I became an adult. Prospective clanmates would research me, find out I was this monster’s son, and run for the hills. Would-be employers and clients wouldn’t hire me when I started event planning on Kalquor for the same reason.”
“Assholes,” Ilid muttered.
Mitag shrugged. “Haven was the chance for a new start, where no one knew who my family was. So here I am, and now you know…because I trust you three to accept me for who I am rather than the acts of my father.”
“Damn right we will,” Charity vowed.
He swallowed. “I’d do anything to have a family who cares about me. Even if it’s just a family of friends, though I won’t pretend I don’t wish for more.”
Charity lost her battle against the tears and wept openly. Ilid reached for Mitag and gripped his shoulder. “I’m sorry for all you suffered. I can’t believe people made your life such a struggle. Especially your own family. I mean, you were the victim!”
Mitag regarded him. “So were you. Despite the way I was treated, I’m still the caregiver my breed designation says I am. I haven’t questioned my role as an Imdiko. Your past won’t keep you from being an excellent clan leader, Dramok.” His attention went to Detodev. “You haven’t shared your history, but I’m familiar enough with you despite your efforts to keep me at a distance. You’re as Nobek as you can be.”
“My story is nothing like yours,” Detodev insisted, but his demeanor spoke of contemplation rather than dissent. “What happened to you happened to you. I bring my own shit on myself.”
“Let us help you not do so then.”
“After hearing the hell you went through? As if your pain is to be set aside for me? Are we really supposed to move on from your suffering so quickly?”
“I have. Sure, I have nightmares on occasion, but I’m in therapy. Have been for years, and it’s done me a world of good. I have excellent coping exercises.” Mitag offered a rueful chuckle. “Except for my admittedly obsessive search for the love I never had, I’ve put together a pretty great life. So yes, let’s move on.”
“I can’t dismiss your pain so easily.” Detodev scowled.
Mitag sighed, but his attention on the Nobek held warmth and compassion. “Listen to me, you big thug. I came from a house of death and another of rejection. I still give a shit about you. That’s how I know there’s no reason you can’t be the man you were meant to be. Ditto for Ilid.” He sat up straight. “Prove me wrong.”
“Fine,” Backed into the proverbial corner, Detodev answered the challenge. “How many pacifist Nobeks have you met?”
Mitag’s and Ilid’s brows rose in tandem. “You’re a pacifist?” Ilid’s tone was surprised.
Detodev didn’t answer right away. It was as if he waited for them to laugh at him. When they merely regarded him with bright interest, he huffed. “I try my best to be. I’ve hurt people when my temper’s gotten out of control. Really hurt them. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, since Nobeks find violence so damned easy. I don’t want to be this way, a thoughtless animal who snaps if someone looks at him wrong. I refuse to be the very thing I despise most.”
Charity wished she had a magic wand to wave over them all so their issues would be fixed. “There’s gratuitous violence, then there’s protectiveness, which is the trait of a true Nobek. You proved to me yesterday a true Nobek is who you are when you tried to catch my attacker.”
“A true Nobek? Don’t make me laugh. My father carries a scar on his face from when he had to stop me from attacking my mother.” Detodev waved at the closest portrait.
Ilid kept his tone steady and non-accusing. “I wondered where he’d gotten his mark of honor.”
“There was no honor in it. Just a Nobek brat throwing a tantrum.”
Mitag considered the portrait, which included Detodev and his siblings. “The scar looks years old in that picture, and you’re still a boy…maybe ten? Younger? You must have been really little when the incident happened.”
“What does it matter how old I was? I was enraged when my mother told me I couldn’t have a treat I wanted. A treat! Such aggression can’t be excused.”
“You told me you were four when it happened,” Charity reminded him. They’d shared a lot of themselves beyond sex in the barn. “It’s the age when little Nobeks usually start acting out, isn’t it, when the first sign of their breed category begins to show?”
“She’s right,” Ilid said. “I used to hear Nobek friends in the fleet talk about it when they compared stories about wrecked houses and injured parents.”
“My point,” Detodev growled. “Nobeks are primitive beasts from the word go.”
“I guess humans are too.” Charity chuckled. “Name the three-year-old who ran through her house screaming and pulling down curtains…and bit her mother no less than four times and drew blood? All because I couldn’t have a cookie half an hour before dinner.”
Detodev stared at her. “You bit her over a snack?”
“We have similar stories, huh? You were no different from a gazillion kids, my friend. You’re positively banal in how typical you were.”
“My breed is known for its violence, though.”
“Particularly at certain stages of development, same as the rest of us. Your early childhood temper tantrums, no matter how intense, aren’t exclusively a Nobek thing.” Charity smirked. “ All toddlers are malicious terrorists, the exception being my irritatingly perfect sister.”
“I recall my share of fits,” Ilid agreed. “Maybe Nobeks get a bad rap simply because they’re Nobeks.”
“Good point. I was beyond awful, especially where chocolate and sugar were concerned.” Charity eyed the cheesecake significantly. “I may have failed to outgrow it. I say we start in on dessert before we pry Ilid’s story from him, or I might indulge in my violent urges.”
She glanced at the Dramok and went cold at his expression of utter bloodcurdling terror. He gazed at Mitag.
No, not at him. Ilid stared at a point over the Imdiko’s shoulder.