Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
TIA
I have no idea why I kissed a stranger. Insanity? Possibly. Stockholm syndrome? Hopefully not. But the moment that Rem’eb said he’d go find out what happened to R’jaal, I was so full of relief and hope that I reached over and kissed him.
I shocked him, too. Either his people are like the sa-khui and only kiss if introduced to it by humans, or I upset him. I brush my fingers over my lips even as I sit in the darkness, waiting for his return. He seemed to like the kiss, even though it was a stupid move. If he’d hated it, it’s entirely possible he’d have abandoned me to whoever kidnapped me in the first place.
My position’s too precarious to gamble like that. I need to think before I act, even if I feel strange around Rem’eb. Not strange , I decide. Impatient. Like I’m waiting for something to happen.
My gut tells me that it’s resonance, but I could be wrong. My khui is silent and that’s big clue number one that it’s not. And yet…it feels different. Something about him is like no one else I’ve ever met.
It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed since he left. The moss continues to glow brightly, and the gentle light brings me a lot of relief. I move my bunk to the farthest corner from the door and put my back to the wall, clutching the knife in my hand. Sleeping peacefully seems like a ridiculous idea, but I’m going to have to sleep at some point. I tug the strange bronze-gold material over my body to use as a blanket, and I’m surprised at how warm it is. The weave is so tight that very little air passes through and I finger it in the shadows, wondering at how it was made.
Wondering where the hell I am.
Wondering who—or what—Rem’eb is. I need to talk to him more.
I try to make a mental list of questions to ask and the corresponding hand gestures I’ll use, but I’m so tired I can’t think straight. I end up falling asleep while trying to decide if “Who are your people” is best communicated with touches or a gesture of horns. Or extra arms. Or?—
The door shivers and bangs open, and I bite back a small scream of alarm.
Rem’eb shuts the door quickly behind him, his expression grave.
Oh god. That’s not good. I hide my knife in the folds of the blanket and scramble to my feet. “What is it? What did you find out? Is he alive?”
Rem’eb advances toward me, glancing at the walls. “Lower your voice,” he murmurs, and takes my hands in two of his. “I must deliver terrible news to you, Tia. I am sorry.”
I feel like I can’t breathe. “R’jaal’s dead?” He’s a nice guy, always willing to go the extra mile for anyone that asks, and I can’t imagine him dead. I blink back tears. “What happened?”
He searches my face, and then a third hand rises to squeeze my shoulder affectionately. “Your friend lives, but he has resonated to another.”
I let out a sharp, gaspy breath. God, I hate this language barrier. “But he’s alive?” I free my hands from his and pat my heart, trying to indicate a pulse. “Alive?”
Rem’eb gives me a woebegone look. “I regret that you have lost your suitor, Tia. It pains me to deliver this news, but you must know he is lost to you.”
Lost to me? I grab Rem’eb by his arms—two of them at least—and give him a little shake. “But is he alive or dead?” At his blank expression, I touch his chest over the heart, indicating the steady heartbeat, and then mime breathing. And when neither of those clue him in to what I’m asking, I try a different tactic. I fake-stab myself in the guts and then dramatically flop to the floor. “R’jaal?”
Realization dawns upon Rem’eb. “Your suitor is well. He is being held captive in an old cell in the belly of the mountain, deep in tunnels that are not used. He’s kept there with the yellow-mane female.”
I let out a shuddering breath and feel like crying out of pure relief. Thank god. Wherever R’jaal is being kept, he’s all right. He’s being kept with…
Wait. Who is he being kept with? I glance up at Rem’eb. “Yellow-mane female?”
“Both of them are being kept by Kin’far the Exile. My father has decided that since they resonated to each other, they are of no use to him. He cannot let them go because they will come looking for you, but he does not have the heart to kill them.” He pauses. “Yet.”
I press my hand to my forehead, thinking. “Wait, wait, back up. Who’s this yellow-mane female?” I mentally go through the list of people on Icehome Beach, but the only blondes that I can think of are mated to other people. There’s Raashel, who has Liz’s bright blonde hair and her father’s blue skin, but she hasn’t even hit puberty yet. She’s a kid. There’s Daisy, but Daisy resonated to O’jek. Hannah? But she resonated to J’shel. Raven is mated to U’dron. Resonance never picks a second person, either. I’m literally the only eligible bachelorette on the planet, which is what makes things so difficult.
Or…I was as of yesterday. Now there’s a whole new people staring me right in the face, and it occurs to me that they’ll have women. He’s obviously hooked up with a blonde from their tribe. Good for him, though his timing is lousy. It’s going to make escape difficult. I nod absently, trying to mentally picture what one of his people’s women looks like. A blonde with four arms? And lots of body hair?
“I am sorry that my news has brought you sadness,” Rem’eb tells me in a voice that manages to be both stiff and oddly gentle. “I think you are a very worthy female. The most worthy.”
Aw. Is he trying to comfort me? Does he think I’m sad over R’jaal? “I’m honestly just fucking relieved he’s alive, Rem’eb.” I take his hands in mine again and squeeze them. “Thank you for finding out.”
He touches his chin in the gesture we’ve decided is “thank you” and “you’re welcome” at the same time. We stare at each other for a moment, and I’m dimly aware that I’m holding hands with a stranger. One of the people that kidnapped me. I have so many questions, and yet they all fly out of my mind the moment our eyes meet again.
“I did not have time to find you a loom,” he tells me. “Tomorrow, perhaps.”
Politeness tells me that I should demur and say it doesn’t matter, but I want that stinking loom. I know how much of a difference it would make for us if we could make textiles on a larger scale. I envision washcloths. Diapers. Fucking panties that aren’t made of soft leather. I’m not in a position to make demands, though. All I can do is nod.
“I will bring you more food in the morning, and fresh water for washing,” he says, and still doesn’t let go of my hands. Instead, he drops to his knees in front of me, his eyes wide and guileless. “Have I earned another?”
I’m rattled by the sight of him kneeling in front of me. I should be the one looming over him but even kneeling, he’s a big guy and his horns and the breadth of his wide shoulders make him seem even taller. “Huh?”
“Another mouth-brush on my cheek.” He lifts one hand and indicates the spot. “As you did earlier.”
Where has all my confident flirtiness gone? I’m fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl at his request. I did promise that, didn’t I? When I’d decided I was going to win him over to my side. I can’t help but like him. There’s an earnestness to him that I appreciate, without R’jaal’s mopeyness. He suits me so much better.
And then I feel like an absolute jerk for even thinking something like that. Rem’eb is the enemy. I should be flirting so I can pull him to my side.
Resolved, I lean in and give him a feather-light kiss on the cheek. “Free me, please.”
His eyes are closed, and he reaches up and touches the spot where I kissed him, as if committing it to memory.
“Free me,” I say again, and when he opens his eyes, I indicate the door and gesture walking out. “Free me and help me get R’jaal. I’ll kiss you all you want, then.”
Rem’eb’s hand drops from his face. He sighs. “I cannot. Now is not the time.”
“When? When is the time?”
What I’m asking must be obvious, because he answers me. “I will know the time is right when I see it. I cannot risk anything yet. My father’s men are watching us.”
I pull away from him, frustrated. Something tells me that I’m going to be “freed” when we’ve resonated and I’m pregnant with his kid. And then there’ll be a different excuse as to why he won’t take me back to my people. He might be all talk and no action.
Well, I’m not going to sit and wait for something to happen. I’ve done that far too much in the past. I push past him and head for the door, intending to storm out just to see what happens. I didn’t see a guard earlier. I haven’t heard one in a while. There might not be one tonight (or whatever time it is right now). If there’s no guard, I can escape at any time. He said R’jaal was in a tunnel. I just need to find the right one.
Surely I can figure out how to get to the surface. How deep can a tunnel underground with people in it possibly be? They’ll need oxygen and food and water.
Before my hand can touch the door, strong arms snag me, pulling me backward. I hiss with anger and before I can shriek my frustration, a hand covers my mouth. I fight like a demon, but Rem’eb has too many hands. Flailing, I slap at him. He doesn’t grope me, though. He holds me carefully, and when he sighs in my ear, it sounds like defeat.
“You cannot go out, Tia. I am sorry. I cannot let you. Not yet.”
“When?” I demand. “When I’m knocked up? You tricked me. You’re just as bad as the ones that stole me.”
He ignores my angry words, stroking my flying hair back from my face and then patting my shoulder again. “I will return with your next meal at tide-rise.”
His touch lingers on my skin before he reluctantly lets me go. This time, when he leaves, I see the form of a hulking guard standing near the doorway, trying to peer in before Rem’eb shoulders him aside.
So I’m still guarded. There’s no way I’m getting out of here on my own at this rate. I need a miracle.
Or a friend.