Chapter 7
seven
. . .
Zera
The amusement still lingered in Zera’s chest. Calla was attracted to her. She had said no, but not in the way that meant never. There was want in her voice. Fear, yes, but want too. Zera would take it. A start was a start.
Once they loaded the stalks of plantains into the waiting cart, they followed the dirt path deeper into the orchard.
The scent shifted into citrus as rows of orange trees stretched before them, thick with fruit.
But the further they walked, the deeper Calla’s frown grew.
Her lips pressed tight. Her brow creased.
Zera’s muscles tensed. Her mate was not happy.
Calla suddenly stopped and approached one of the trees. She stood very still. Then, with a quiet sigh, she reached for a fruit and sliced it open with a small blade. The orange inside was pale, the juice barely there.
“Ay que mierda,” she cursed under her breath.
Zera stepped forward. “Yes?”
Calla knelt by the tree's roots, her hands moving the soil, her eyes scanning the base, completely focused.
“They’re missing minerals,” she muttered, half to herself.
Then her voice quickened. “See how the leaves are curling inward? That yellowing at the tips? Could be potassium or maybe magnesium. Could be both, honestly. The rain runoff this season probably stripped everything out of the soil, and the trees closer to the river are always a bit more vulnerable to depletion…”
Zera blinked.
Calla kept going, gesturing now. “You can fix it, though. There’s a mix; my mom used to do it. Ground eggshells, coconut husk ash, and river silt. The silt’s packed with nutrients from upstream. When the river floods, it deposits everything along the banks. It’s honestly perfect for citrus trees.”
Zera just… stared. She had no idea what half of that meant. But she had never seen someone talk with that much fire. Her mate was glowing.
Calla finally noticed the silence. She glanced over and immediately stiffened. “Oh. Sorry. I just… get excited.”
Zera straightened, then grinned softly. “I like when you talk.”
Calla opened her mouth, then shut it.
Zera stepped closer and tilted her head. “You go to river? We get… silt?
“You don't have to come with me,” Calla said.
Zera shook her head firmly. “We go. I protect you.”
There was no room for argument. Zera wouldn’t let her do this alone, not when it clearly mattered to her. If it was important to Calla, then it was important to Zera.
Calla sighed, glancing down at the small knife in her hand. “It’d be so much easier if I had my machete...”
“Hatchet,” Zera offered proudly, lifting it with a grin and giving it a little wave.
Calla nodded and took it before she started her way towards the river.
They walked past the plantation and into the dense forest beyond.
Calla pushed aside a thick curtain of vines and raised Zera’s hatchet with both hands.
With one clean swing, she split through a low-hanging branch.
Her arms flexed, muscles coiled beneath glistening skin as the afternoon sun filtered through the trees above. The air was thick with humidity.
Behind her, Zera walked quietly. She should have been watching the path, but she couldn’t.
Wouldn’t. Every time the hatchet rose, every time Calla grunted softly from the exertion, her eyes followed the movement.
The slow drop of sweat along Calla’s neck.
The way her blouse clung to her back. The curve of her hips as she stepped forward, focused and unbothered, utterly in her element.
Calla noticed.
She stopped mid-swing, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of dirt across her temple. Her eyes narrowed, catching Zera in the act. She didn’t say anything at first, just tilted her head slightly, eyes trailing from Zera’s face down to her chest, her waist, her hands.
For a moment, it felt as if the air itself had stopped moving.
Then Calla muttered, breathless, “You’re going to overheat with that shirt sticking to you like that.”
Zera blinked. “Overheat?”
Calla looked away, clearing her throat, eyes wide as if she had surprised even herself. “It’s the humidity. You know. Rhea’s summer season.”
Zera smiled, but Calla quickly pointed forward, back to her task. “We’re almost there. The river isn’t far.”
The rest of the walk was quiet. Not tense. Not awkward. Just charged. Every rustle of the trees, every step through the damp underbrush carried that energy with it.
But then Zera noticed something.
Several stalks of vegetation were already cut, cleanly, precisely. Not by her hatchet. These cuts were older, drier at the edges, and made by a different blade. A machete.
Zera’s brows drew together. She glanced around the trees, taking in the faint, trampled trail in the undergrowth. Someone else had been here. Recently.
She opened her mouth to call out to Calla, but the sound was lost in the rush of the woman’s excited voice.
“There it is!” Calla cried, slicing away one last branch before stepping forward.
The trees parted to reveal the river.
It wasn’t just a river; it was paradise. The water shimmered in a turquoise hue. The edges were mossy with large boulders. A small waterfall trickled over dark rock, filling the forest with a soft, constant hum. The air around them smelled of wet leaves, citrus, and crushed flowers.
Sunlight broke through the canopy above, spotlighting the water in luminous pools. Schools of tiny fish flickered beneath the surface. The water was clear enough to see every pebble along the riverbed.
And Zera was completely and utterly enthralled. This place was nothing like the Vulcan Kingdom, and although the place had beauty, it couldn’t be compared to what she was staring at.
Calla stepped toward it, eyes bright. “?Mira pa’lla qué belleza!”
It was a beauty … A breathtaking beauty, Zera knew she could get used to.
Calla dipped her toes into the turquoise pool and sighed.
“It’s been a long while since I’ve actually taken the time to dip my toes,” she murmured, almost to herself.
“I used to come here with my brothers when they’d visit.
But I’ve been working too much.” She trailed off, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.
Zera stood by the tree line, watching her, trying to catch all the things she was saying. “Jump in,” Zera said, shrugging at Calla’s incredulous gaze. “Why not?”
“We have things to do.”
Zera waved her hand dismissively. “Later.” She didn’t move an inch; she looked upon Calla, her face contorted with indecision. She seemed to be fighting herself, whether to go in and enjoy her time there or do what she came in to do.
Without another word, Calla peeled off her boots, tugged her trousers down, and shrugged out of her blouse. What remained were her damp chest wraps and soft cotton underclothes. The forest air clung to her skin, thick and warm, but the river’s cool mist offered relief.
She turned, playful mischief flickering in her eyes. “Well? You coming, Vulcanian?”
Zera blinked, struck by the sudden transformation. The woman who had just lectured her about nutrient deficiencies was now barefoot, bare-shouldered, laughing. Calla’s joy was youthful, raw, real … Zera loved it.
Calla took three steps back, then dashed forward and jumped.
She soared, arms wide, curls flying, and landed with a splash. The sound echoed through the trees, followed by her squeal as she surfaced and flipped onto her back, floating with a goofy grin on her face.
Zera’s heart stuttered. She’d seen many things in her life. War. Glory. Blood and sacrifice. But nothing like this. Not the water. Not the sunlight through the leaves. Not the woman glowing from the inside out, wading and splashing and laughing like she’d never known pain.
It was a sight Zera could get used to. A sight she wanted to get used to. A life with Calla in it wouldn’t just be different, it would be colorful. “My beautiful flower…”
Calla laughed and arched her brow, clearly not understanding what she had just said. “Come in, already! You’re overheating, remember?”
Zera looked down at her sweat-soaked shirt clinging to her chest. “It is… sticky,” she agreed.
She slowly removed her shirt and the linen pants until she was down to her bindings and dark underclothes. Her muscles rippled in the light, but her movements were unhurried and softened by the way her gaze followed Calla.
As she took a step forward, she noticed Calla resurfacing from another dive. Her curls were dripping, cheeks dark, and her lips parted with a radiant breath. Calla didn’t look away. And this time, her eyes sparkled with something she couldn’t hide. Desire. Wonder. Want.
Zera smirked.
Good. Let Calla want her.
She took two steps back and leapt. The splash was huge. A wave crashed over Calla, who shrieked and shielded her face, laughing as she swam backwards to dodge the cascade.
“Zera!” she cried, spitting water. “That was rude!”
Zera emerged with her hair slicked back and a smug little smirk. “Bigger than yours.”
“You beast!” Calla shouted, lunging at her with a splash of her own, only hers was far more aggressive. Zera gasped and ducked, laughing deep from her belly.
Calla splashed Zera one final time before laughing breathlessly and pushing her away with both hands. “Enough, you menace,” she teased, still grinning as she drifted backwards.
Zera let herself be shoved, smiling in that open. But then Calla turned toward the riverbank and began crawling out, hands pressing into the damp moss and smooth rocks as she climbed up.
Zera stilled.
With wet curls clinging to her neck and back, Calla’s dark skin glowing gold under the sunlight. The soaked chest wraps hugged her form, pale against the deep warmth of her skin, tracing every curve in a way that made Zera forget how to breathe.