Chapter 8
ZALIS
“Where is the female?” Lyresh asked.
The older female’s face filled the screen, as if she could fold the distance between them and reach through. Or because her eyesight had degraded and she needed to be close to the screen to read the buttons. Likely the latter.
“Mother, this is unexpected,” Zalis said, setting down the tools on his workbench. He did not ask who had gossiped about him to his mother. The answer was the usual source of mischief: Thalia.
Sleep had remained elusive. There was too much to consider.
The project on Val Mori and the coordination of many tasks.
He would bring Ren with him. As much as the male was a liar, he was a skilled mechanic.
And his smaller frame allowed him into tight spaces that would not admit Zalis. Where Ren went, Havik followed.
Then there was Gemma.
Rather than entertain all his worrying thoughts, he distracted himself by working on a drone modification. The work kept his hands busy while his mind churned through the multitude of problems. Time escaped him. It was well into the following day when his mother called.
“Why can’t I see you?” She tapped the screen.
Zalis sighed and enabled the camera. He might have been annoyed but this was exactly how every call with his mother started. “My quarters are a mess. I attempted to spare you from delivering a lecture.”
“Don’t be silly. I love a good lecture.” Lyresh peered into the screen and noticed Zalis’ undressed state. “Did I disturb you?”
“No, Mother. I could not sleep,” he said.
“So it is true. You have a mate,” she said, sounding delighted. “Well, I suspect you’ll be too busy to get much sleep.”
It took everything in him not to blush. He clinched his fists, ignoring the tingle in his tattoos which wanted to burn. “Mother, no.”
Lyresh pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. “You look nervous. You shouldn’t be. I’m sure you’re naturally talented like your father.”
Now he blushed. This was unbearable. “Mother, I wish you would not say such things.”
“Put on a shirt before answering my call and I wouldn’t think such things.”
“I answered in audio.”
“What is that? What do you have there? Where is my new daughter?”
“Move back or the camera will not focus properly.” Zalis held up the tiny drone he had been working on.
His mother complied, stepping back. “Another one of your fancies,” she said, sounding thoroughly unsurprised.
Zalis set the drone aside, not bothering to explain the steps required to achieve the iridescent shimmer on the wings. It pleased him and that was enough. “I assume this is about Gemma. Who told you?”
“Ah, so the female does have a name. Gemma.” Lyresh repeated the name until it became nonsense. “Odd sounding, though. Do all humans speak as if they have a mouth full of glue?”
“Our language sounds absurd to humans.” Sangrin tradition favored two syllable names.
A syllable from each parent’s name was considered lucky but resulted in families with similar sounding names.
His father was Zamos. Following this structure, his child with Gemma would be Zemma, Zilma, Gelis, or Gezil.
Absurd.
Lyresh huffed. “Tell me about her.”
He was reluctant to share Gemma’s abduction by traffickers, being held in a cage, or the injuries she endured. He did not want those experiences to define Gemma in his mother’s eyes. She was more than that.
“She is a baker.”
Lyresh gasped in delight. “A human baker! How exciting. Human cuisine is very popular with the wealthy and influential, according to the gossipcasts. Imagine the look on Deora’s face when I have a human caterer—”
“Mother, Gemma is not your personal caterer.”
She waved a hand, as if erasing her statement, but Zalis could see her plotting.
Lyresh viewed Deora as a bitter rival at the Mahdfel Academy.
Neither were instructors—that honor went to his father—but both served on the events committee.
“Yes, of course. When will you visit? I want to meet my daughter.”
“I cannot say. The warlord has entrusted me with a complex mission.”
“Not even for a day?”
“Mother—”
“Oh, I understand. Things are new and you do not want your parents intruding. What is her favorite color? No, her favorite food. I’m sure it is interesting.”
“I do not know.”
“Her family?”
“She has a sister.”
“No one else? You always hear about humans having an overpopulation problem.”
“I am unsure.” Neither Emry nor Gemma mentioned other family members.
“What are her hobbies? What are her interests?”
Again, Zalis was at a loss.
“Do you know anything about your mate?” Lyresh asked, her tone soft and pitying.
Zalis knew several things. She refused to be broken by her captors. She had nightmares. She held his hand as she fell asleep, placing all her confidence in him to keep the nightmares at bay. She chose him, out of fear or necessity. Zalis did not care. She chose him. No one else.
He could share none of those things with his mother.
“She has a fractured ankle. We spent our time being lectured by the medic.”
“Poor darling,” Lyresh said, all sympathy. “Earth sent her in that condition?”
Zalis dodged the question with a confession. “You were correct. I am nervous. I am unfamiliar with Earth courting customs.”
Lyresh surprised him with a confession of her own. “I was nervous when I met your father. I was ordered to attend a social, and I dreaded it. Those things are always too crowded, and no one wants to be there.”
Zalis had heard the story of how his parents met many times. Before the genetic testing, eligible females were issued invitations for social events. Eligible warriors were granted their invitation via lottery. Tickets were both reviled and coveted.
Matches were made based entirely on physical attraction and a vague sense of correctness.
As much as Zalis disliked how arbitrary the genetic match was, it had some logic.
A match made in person based on correctness?
Speaking to strangers to determine said correctness?
The experience could only be humiliating.
The test was better. It was impartial.
“You were nearly there and decided to return home,” Zalis said, continuing the story.
“I was there, outside, but I never went in. My feet were aching. I borrowed shoes from my sister and they were too small.” Lyresh laughed. “I was nearly home and this Mahdfel chases me down, holding a pair of slippers. He said—”
“Your shoes are too small,” Zalis said, repeating the infamous line with his mother.
“I was so worried about getting a citation for missing the social and here this male brought me shoes. He saw me outside the social. When I didn’t go in, he tracked my scent.”
“A love match.” The rarest of all matches for a Mahdfel and the one he secretly longed for.
“Very much so, but love didn’t change the fact that your father and I knew nothing about each other in the beginning. We had to listen to each other.”
“Human expectations—”
“Darling, my love, people are the same. They want to be listened to,” Lyresh said. Her hand twitched, as if she wanted to reach through the screen and pat Zalis on the head as she had when he was a youth. “Ask her about those human traditions and listen.”
Zalis rubbed a hand over his horn. That was doable.
Before he could acknowledge his mother’s words, the door chimed and his comm unit buzzed. Gemma was at the door. He disconnected the call without a farewell, an offense that he would pay for later.
Gemma waited outside his door in a motorized chair. “Hey. We should talk.”
GEMMA
First, Zalis wasn’t wearing a shirt. Second, she intended to have a very grownup, very serious talk, but how could she be expected to do that when he was all that?
Anyone else and she’d assume they were playing dirty; except she couldn’t imagine Zalis answering the door half-naked on purpose. He was just so damn earnest.
Understanding that didn’t stop the words from falling out of her head, though.
Her mind went blank because Zalis was… perfection with the kind of ripped muscles and zero body fat you only saw in the movies.
Black ink decorated his shoulders and arms. His short dark hair, normally styled with precision, was tousled.
Great. Now she needed to add objectification to her apology.
“Shirt,” Gemma said, shielding her eyes.
Anyone else might have flexed and preened. Zalis flushed, his cheeks darkening. He stepped back, allowing her to enter. “Apologies. I could not sleep and lost track of time. I have not changed out of my sleepwear.”
“It’s the middle of the day.”
“Several tasks kept me preoccupied.”
“Okay, let me get this out. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for coercing you into this marriage,” Gemma said, following him into the room and continuing to speak.
Words tumbled out of her, gaining speed as she went.
She couldn’t stop or she’d never say it.
“I took away your choice. I was scared. Terrified of going back to Earth on my own. I thought I could take back a bit of control rather than be stuck with some rando. I know it’s no excuse, but that’s my thought process.
I did to you exactly the thing I hate that’s done to women on Earth.
And I objectified you. I’m a hypocrite. I’m so, so sorry.
I’ll go back to Earth and salvage the bakery. So, yeah, that’s what I decided.”
She waited for a response.
And waited.
Finally, he said, “No.”
“No?” The hand over her eyes slipped. She caught a glimpse of lavender skin and the movement of cloth as Zalis dressed. She wouldn’t look. She wouldn’t…
“You may look.” He sounded amused.
“No,” she said, hand firmly over her eyes. “I may be a hypocrite, but I’m not a creep. Also, not your decision to make.”
“Allowing you to view me? That can only be my decision.” He sounded amused, like he deliberately misunderstood.
“Me going back to Earth,” she said. The urge to peek to see if he was teasing her was overwhelming.