16. Chapter 16
sixteen
Hue
Everything inside the city center follows the same white, rounded aesthetic as the home that I woke up in, but none more so than the colossal building I’m being led into now.
Two winged Xyrelith females are carved into whatever hard, cold material makes up the building.
Their nude forms stretched toward each other over the veiled opening.
Their large wings flat against their backs.
Every detail so perfectly carved, their wings look as soft and yielding as real feathers.
“Those are Pheor'aya and Fam'ora, our goddesses of balance,” the leader of my small group of females offers as the others head inside ahead of us.
“They’re beautiful.” The words leave me in a hushed whisper. So, I repeat them louder. She smiles at that.
“Are you ready?”
Am I?
Am I a horrible person?
I think I might be, whether it's that pungent but familiar realization or my guilty conscience, maybe a bit of both, I answer honestly despite my desire to lie. “No.”
She offers me another smile. “I was nervous during my vigil, too, and I grew up watching them. I cannot imagine how it must feel. Our botanist is a dutiful male. No doubt you’re well prepared.”
I nod, unwilling to say anything against Sor’en.
It's not like I’ve been particularly welcoming or open to hearing him.
In fact, there was an entire solar every time he’d try to talk, I hummed to myself to drown him out.
Something warm whispers over my chilled flesh, although the chill I suspect comes from deep down.
Something off about me, my wrong intentions reflecting in goosebumps on my skin.
Crossing under their goddesses, knowing what I plan to do feels…
horrible. So, when the warmth comes again as we pass underneath them, I refuse to let myself enjoy it.
It’s an empty, useless gesture, but it’s all I’ve got for now.
It doesn’t take us long to reach the heart of the grand palace-like temple that stands proudly at the center of their city.
A warm beacon in the vast fields of rolling flowers and empty dancing land.
Everything within, though, is a natural blend of high tech, shockingly advanced despite their seclusion.
So much so that it lands on par with the Kalzaits, if I had to guess.
The winged species make up more than half of our galaxy's ruling body. Not because they’re on the board of the Intergalactic Alliance.
No, that is saved for each member of every heavily populated species of alien willing to pay to be placed there, but because everyone knows it’s really the Kalzaits that bankroll it.
The annual Intergalactic Summit, flying and portaling ruling figures from our galaxy and others across the stars, is entirely paid for by the royal family.
Not only do they own the monopoly on our medical trade and advancement, but they also own our governing bodies.
I can’t imagine the shifting tides should the Xyreliths ever decide they’re done hiding. Done being the victims of a system, no doubt, set up to keep them from power.
No sooner than I step into a warm, monotone chamber filled with a vanity much larger than me, a bathing pool of sorts, and a full wardrobe, I’m descended upon by the females. Panic grips me, making me flinch as my dress is gripped gently from the back.
I don’t miss Lyr’ael’s gasp as she quickly removes her hands from me, showing me her dry palms. “I would never harm you, human Hue.”
My chest releases an odd little pang as I stare at her over my shoulder.
All the other females are utterly still where there was moments ago a frenzy of activity.
Something about this moment feels monumental.
Like there are eyes watching outside of this room, like what I do next means something more than us within it.
I offer her a smile, so unlike me but genuine all the same.
My hand is soft as I grasp hers, placing it on my flushed cheek.
“I know. I’m just not used to being touched, is all. ”
My words seem to breathe a sigh of relief into the room, the activity picking up almost immediately.
I don’t flinch again as she undoes the clasp on the back of my dress.
Where I expect her to let the garment fall to the ground at my feet, she doesn’t.
Instead, keeping hold of it and softly, slowly slipping off me, ensuring to gather my hair so it doesn’t pull.
Another female gathers it into her arms, folding it with the utmost care.
Something in the movement strikes me dead center, making emotion swell in my chest.
Aside from Sor’en, this past limtic I’ve never been handled…
gently. Sure, Mom was soft enough, but Nysharil don’t value gentleness.
The education and housing pods were perfunctory.
It hurt, while not intentionally, it didn’t change that it did.
This… this doesn’t hurt. I keep blinking the tears from my eyes, lost to my own thoughts, when Lyr’ael suddenly undoes the clasp on my necklace.
A strangled sound leaves my throat, the result of too many words jumbling together on their way out. My hand snapping up to grab the tooth. “The necklace stays on.”
I gently tug it free from her hands, redoing the clasp and stepping away from the gaggle of females.
“You must be entirely pure from non-blessed garments for your baptism,” she counters.
I shake my head, clasping my hands around the necklace as if they’ll pry it from me.
“It is a human culture thing then?”
“No,” I answer. “A Nysharil thing, but regardless, I can't take it off.”
They seem to talk among themselves for a moment. Their words hushed as they figure out what to do. My eyes slide to the doorway, opening and ready. Trying to remember the way out of the maze-like building. I hadn’t paid attention. Why didn’t I pay attention?
Stupid Hue, stupid, stupid, stupid hu—
One of them breaks off, heading rushed for the doorway. My heart stills in my chest, for a moment, I'm sure she’s going to lock it, sealing me inside. My gut churns until she breezes right past it into the hall, softly calling out for someone nearby.
I flinch when the leader, a female I think might be called Me’alma, appears in front of me. “We’ll have to have your special tooth blessed. All your other garments were prepared by your mate when he arrived, but—"
My eyes dip toward the long, sheer veil and equally as sheer dress hanging by the steaming pool. “He blessed them?”
“Yes, of course. He would trust no one else with such a task. But he cannot handle the necklace currently. We have another coming now.”
“Why not?” I don’t think I hide the unjustified hurt in my voice well because she stares above my head before reaching out to swish her hand through the empty space in an odd, calming gesture.
“He is—"
“Fucking,” Lyr’ael cuts in, and my stomach drops down to my feet.
“What?” I breathe.
“He is in a state of deep exactment,” she offers, and all the breath whooshes out of me as I backtrack, sitting on the raised edge of the pool.
My bare ass pressing against cool stone while I try to pry my stomach off the floor.
She continues, but her words seem very far away.
“He delayed your bonding too long. He cannot master his emotions well. Having his unbonded mate so far away in such circumstances is a very unbalancing event.”
“He’s upset,” I offer, horribly liking that far more than fucking. “Did he change forms again?” I ask.
Which is apparently a very taboo thing to do. Lyr’ael slaps her palms over her mouth, hiding a giggle as the other females in the room repeat the odd gesture above their own heads.
Before I can open my mouth to apologize, sending a telepathic sorry to Sor’en for whatever embarrassment I just likely caused him, the male from last night appears in front of me with the female who’d apparently left to get him.
He holds a small vial in his hand along with a yellow petal from one of the flowers. I’m surprised to see the Lyr’lumara petal still holding its pretty glow. “Your mate is distressing everyone here, too, it seems.”
“Is he okay?” I ask, gritting my teeth as he urges me up with his hands, palming my necklace.
“He will be, once we get this over with.”
I watch as he places it on the petal, emptying a drop of the vile onto the tooth. The scent of warm masculine flowers fills the room, invading my senses. Without my permission, a sigh leaves my mouth. I’d know that smell anywhere.
Sor’en.
He closes his eyes, murmuring a prayer in his own language.
It isn’t until he's done with the prayer that he opens them again, staring directly at me. Something different in his expression, something oddly tender, if not a little sad. Like the way you look at a child after they’ve broken their favorite toy.
I swallow hard, feeling like I’m peeled open for everyone to see. For him to see. Like he knows.
And he pities me for it.
He disappears almost immediately after that, leaving me shaken and back in the endearing hands of the females.
I’m breathless and nearly thoughtless as they guide me into the pool.
The warmth settles down deep in my bones, welcoming and judgmental.
As if every lap of pink petal-filled water they sponge over me is whispering my nasty intentions.
As if the goddesses outside are imbuing each one with a droplet of disapproval.
I don’t even believe in goddesses.
I don’t care.
My lip wobbles.
I don’t want this.
Tears fill my eyes.
I don’t want to stay.
I don’t like it here.
With the pretty flowers, stupid males and soft, quiet people.
I don’t deserve this welcome.
The made-up goddesses and I both know it. Soon the rest of them will too.
I let them dunk me, watching as my body starts to melt against my will, my blessed burden sinking under the pink tinged water with me as I relax against my will.
“Is this a toxin?” I ask.
Me’alma laughs. “It is the flowers. Rest, human Hue. You have a long night ahead of you. We will wash you for him.”
I don’t argue or think too much about her words. Or the giggles that follow as I let my eyes flutter shut, the females supporting my weight.