Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
“He wants to meet with us.”
Captain Ruciyah’s gruff tone was closer than I would have liked.
He’d discovered me perched between two shipping containers in the storage closet I’d commandeered.
I’d taken to coming here when I didn’t want to be bothered, given Greabes knocked on my door for each meal and more than once I’d been sure someone else had been hovering on the other side.
But I hadn’t realized anyone knew my hiding spot.
Lowering the book Zoleka had gifted me, I peered down at the captain.
His visor was absent and I almost wished he’d continue to wear his full helmet around the ship.
There was something unnerving about his eyes and the way I couldn’t discern his facial expressions—as if he was still wearing the mask.
But I’d learned early on how to read the expressions of those around me, even those whose faces were so unlike my own, and I would learn to read his too. It was how I’d survived in Ebyd III.
“Beiste Lesephous,” he clarified. Strands of hair fallen from the knot at the back of his head slid across his cheekbones as he tilted his head. “He won’t issue an invitation unless we meet.”
Captain Ruciyah’s typical cloak was gone, though he still wore the black fatigues of a mercenary down to the arm guards and gloves. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him how he slept at night—if his helmet held back the screams I heard in my head from the destruction wrought at his hands.
Instead, I nodded, dropping my attention back to the text. I found myself fascinated by the stories of the Akahzyrians and their mates—how even a single touch of their intended, skin to skin, would allow them to feel what the other felt, opening up their minds and bodies to their other half.
I pulled my feet back up onto the shelf, but a hand wrapped around my ankle. “Come down,” the captain rumbled.
My mouth popped open in surprise and I tugged my leg, but he didn’t let go. His eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between my own before dropping to the book in my hands.
“Where did you get that?” He released me and I scrambled back, my shoulders pressed against the cold wall while I held the text closer to my chest. “Did you take that from Zoleka?”
A muscle tensed in my jaw but my chin jutted up at the assumption.
I was nothing but a yeska to him, after all, no one to be trusted, and that suited me fine.
But after a moment he sighed, carding a hand through his hair and dislodging more strands.
“Just…come down. We need to talk about this. We’re docking with Lesephous tomorrow and we need to get our story straight. ”
There was no story, only whatever Captain Ruciyah decided to say. My role as his personal pleasure yeska was a straightforward one: I was to look appealing and say nothing. Which reminded me I had nothing with me that would work for such a meeting.
When I made no move to comply, a growl slid from his mask.
The fabric of his black gloves strained against his knuckles where his hands curled around the shelf on either side of my feet.
A weight sank in my stomach at the realization he was big enough to pull me off the shelf as if I was nothing but another water container.
I wasn’t sure what my face looked like, but when I stiffened and my heart thundered in my chest, he froze, hands flying up and away as if in surrender. I couldn’t read his expression or understand why his brows puckered and the markings on his face almost seemed to shimmer.
“Fine.” The word was more a curse than an acceptance of defeat, but it relieved me all the same as he turned and strode out of the closet in three big steps.
…
I stared at the clothing I’d brought with me from the Daskquah, my heart beating frantically in my chest. The clothes Lunastra had provided were not suitable for meeting with a Louxurian official, so I pulled on a pair of simple leggings and a tunic—it would have to be enough.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I made my way out into the common area.
It was a relief to see only Zoleka there in her usual spot.
She looked up from the text in front of her at the sound of my footsteps, a small smile on her lips. “Ready to go? I’ve briefed the captain on Louxurian customs and greetings, so…” Her attention flicked down to my clothes. “Is that what you’re going to wear?”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, remembering all the dresses she wore. “This is all I have. Do…” I swallowed back the acid rising in my throat, the words feeling strange on my tongue. “Do you think you could help me?”
Her smile brightened. She closed the text, placed it in one of the containers she brought with her that kept them safe, and popped up to her feet. “I might have something. I’ll meet you at your room.”
I twisted my fingers together and made my way back the way I’d come while she sped off. Only a few minutes later she appeared with an armful of silks and followed me inside, laying them out on the bed.
Six dresses, all of varying colors and fabrics, but each more beautiful than the next. I turned to her with a raised brow, touching a deep blue one in question.
“They’re from my performing days. At the Citadel we’re encouraged to rid ourselves of most material things in order to fully surrender to our learning, but I just couldn’t bear to let these go.
” She smoothed the collar of a fuchsia gown, a wry smile playing around her lips.
My mouth twitched and I nodded in understanding.
And with that, she held the first one out to me.
After over a cycle with Lunastra I was no stranger to being dressed like a doll and paraded around for her patrons to look but never touch, though my wardrobe had mainly consisted of my costumes for silks dancing rather than luxurious gowns.
“Maxtalen said this one was his favorite.” Her lips quirked as she touched the fuchsia gown and a sparkle of mischief glimmered in her eyes.
My hand froze midway between us, shoulders locking into place.
“I think he has a crush on you,” Zoleka continued, but the grin on her face fell slightly along with the arm holding the dress.
A rushing filled my ears and I smoothed out my expression despite my skin crawling.
Even when I reminded myself that Maxtalen had been nothing but kind, nausea churned through my stomach.
He was a quiet companion on the nights I couldn’t sleep, only occasionally offering information about the section of the quadrant we passed through or the planets around us.
There had been moments where his interest slipped, like the night he’d told me my voice was beautiful, but they were few and far between.
Even still, my chest clenched and I fought back the memory of calloused hands on me, the bite of blood on my tongue from another. Those guards from Ebyd III were never more than a heartbeat away in my mind.
Zoleka’s expression filled with too much understanding as she put the dress aside and picked up a different one. “I’d rather you tried these others instead.”
With a sigh, I forced my shoulders to relax, taking the deep blue gown from her outstretched hand.
I tried each on in turn, grateful when she turned around to look out the window without my asking.
The dresses were a bit loose on me, given her generous curves and my lack of them from cycles of starvation not even my stay on the Daskquah could fix.
Each time I slipped into a flowing dress, she turned and waited for me to shrug before humming her approval or frowning her disapproval.
“This one, I think,” she finally said, inspecting the silvery floor-length gown.
It was diaphanous, like the clouds that had clung to my home planet in the winter.
A deep vee sliced through the center, cutting almost to my navel, though I was sure on her it would have stopped around her breastbone.
I frowned down at it, my arms spread wide as I experimentally twisted my wrists, the shimmering black stones dripping from my shoulders and elbows rattling with the movement.
The comm system flashed green, signaling me to the hangar, and we left my rooms. I didn’t have to wonder why it had been the right choice for long. Not when faced with Captain Ruciyah waiting for me beside the small cruiser, his attention sliding down to the hem of the gown and up again.
It was the exact color of his eyes.