Chapter 3
Zul ate the food the lovely female brought him, observing her and the youngling who clung to her, his tiny fists clutching the fine fabric of her skirt.
His hearts beat in synchronicity, a powerful pulse within his broad chest. His blood, still heated by the glimmering of berserker rage, warmed even more.
A seductive little voice seemed to whisper in his ear that this lovely female was unprotected and, therefore, available.
He could steal her away and imprint his bond upon her.
He shook his head to dispel such dishonorable thoughts.
He was not so far gone in his devolution that he would willingly abandon all semblance of honor to become a ravening beast such as one of the rosvoi.
He swallowed a long gulp of water and asked, seemingly ignorant of the answers to ensure she was truly who she claimed to be, “Who are your mates, Prima?”
She answered, “I am mated to Gilvane cen’Vyr and Brannal cen’Vyr.”
His forehead wrinkled and he lied again, “I was not aware they were the lords of Fangrys.” He paused, then asked, “Was there not a third in their triad?”
Ursula nodded. “Crow cen’Vyr. He…he perished before our son was born.”
“May your loss be forever honored,” he murmured at seeing her genuine grief at the loss of the famed and mighty berserker.
He wondered if Crow had died in glory, but did not ask.
He aimed a piercing look at her, noting she did not have the same appearance he had seen in other species of females biologically compatible with Urib males.
But then, he realized, he had not yet seen a human female, the latest species to offer their females as brides to Uribern. He remarked, “You’re a hybrid.”
Feeling the tickle of loose strands that had escaped her braid, Ursula smoothed back her white hair. “Yes. I came from Earth.”
Zul absorbed the information: Earth meant human. After a long moment during which he devoured three rolls, he said, “I heard the Council Supreme negotiated a treaty with a new planet and that Uribern was to receive brides.”
Ursula nodded. She pursed her lips, a sour expression. “Yes, Earth is that planet. The brides were not informed as to their destination or their purpose.”
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Do you accuse our governing council of falsehood?”
She shook her head and tried for tact. “No, but the government of my homeland concealed their true intentions. Uribern’s honor was not besmirched in the importing of brides.”
She’d left something unsaid, but Zul ignored the unvoiced accusation because wanted to take her hand in his, to examine her fine skin up close.
She was truly exquisite. He refrained because he still considered himself an honorable male.
An honorable male did not touch another male’s mate, no matter how much he desired to feel her softness.
Instead, he asked another question, again concealing what he already knew and hoping to lure her into revealing something he didn’t know. “What is your species called?”
“Human.” Ursula didn’t bother with scientific nomenclature—Homo sapiens sapiens—and get into a discussion of Primates and evolution. That was unnecessarily complicated. I was an event planner, not a biologist.
“When are your mates expected to return?” Zul asked and popped another chunk of meat into his mouth to chew while he listened to her reply.
She sighed. “Not for another ten days.” Before he could ask as she assumed he would, Ursula added, “I don’t know where they’ve been deployed to or any details regarding their mission.”
Zul snorted. “Of course, you do not. It is not proper for you to have such knowledge.”
A door closed as the last of Gallick’s servants departed, having unloaded the contents of Ursula’s hoverwagon. She stood and bowed her head, the youngling clinging to her skirt.
“Please excuse me. I have inventory to display,” Ursula said.
The berserker set down the large cup he was about to drink from and followed her even though he could have watched her from behind the counter where he sat.
Curious as to what this strangely appealing human-Urib hybrid would do, he watched as she opened a crate, pushed aside fibrous packing material, and withdrew a gleaming ceramic vessel.
She ran her hands over its surface, ensuring no stray particles of the packing material remained to dull the shiny exterior.
She placed it on a shelf and returned to the crate.
“Crow, please fetch me the polishing cloth.”
“Yes, Mama,” the boy replied and darted behind the counter to retrieve a clean cloth. “Here, Mama.”
“Thank you, pumpkin.” She took the cloth from his hand and pressed a kiss between the nubs of his horns.
Zul stared as she worked, unsure as to what his reaction should be.
He believed her to be the artist who crafted such gorgeous yet functional items—something that made him feel proud, though she was not his to inspire such pride—or appalled that a high caste female demeaned herself with such menial labor as she was now performing.
He glanced about, but the neighboring business owner’s servants had already departed, and she had none of her own with her.
Of course not: they’d been killed by the rosvoi.
“Stop,” he ordered.
She looked at him, blinking in surprise, her hands going still.
“I will do that.”
She blinked again. “I appreciate the offer, but this is my shop and these are my wares.”
“It is not for a Prima to perform such menial labor,” he said.
She pressed her lips together and leveled a hard stare at him.
After a moment’s thought and realizing that “menial labor” wasn’t the hill she wanted to die on, Ursula nodded and stepped away from the crate.
“All right, then, you carefully remove each item from the crate and wipe it clean. I will set it where I want it to go.”
Zul shook his head. “You will direct me where to place each piece.”
She opened her mouth to protest then changed tactics. “I thought you had assigned yourself to guard duty.”
Zul decided he liked her push-back. It showed spirit, something many Urib males did not appreciate and something he figured was a remnant of her of her human nature. Humans, he had heard, were contrary beings. “I can do both.”
“Fine,” she muttered. She sighed and averted her eyes. “But you’ll leave the customers to me.”
Zul frowned.
“You’ll just scare them,” she pointed out. “If you frighten my customers, then I won’t be able to sell anything to them, and my shop needs to turn a profit if it’s to remain a viable business.”
Still frowning, he nodded. She was correct; he would frighten them.
He also understood the necessity of profit to keep a business open; however, what he did not understand was why the Fangrys Prima needed to earn money.
Were her mates careless in their spending?
Did they not place limits on her own foolish expenditures?
As though intuiting the direction of his thoughts, Ursula growled, “Don’t even think it.”
Perhaps, he thought, her mates were lax or overly permissive in what they allowed her to do.
Were she his, he would ensure her security from foolishness.
But she is not mine and I have no true authority over her—only her mates do.
The admission convinced him to acquiesce to her terms. He bowed his head and said, “I will not interfere with your interaction with your customers as long as they treat you with respect.”
“I’ll let you know if I need help,” she replied, her tone arid.
Taking her youngling’s hand, she murmured to him, and they retreated to the back room only to return a moment later with a small mat and a handful of toys. Zul pulled out a jar, took a second to admire the unusual blue, green, and silver glaze, and wiped it clean.
“Put that one next to the green vase in the window,” she said. “Don’t forget the lid.”
Lid? He rummaged through the packing material to find the lid which had become dislodged during that morning’s flight to safety. He pulled it out, wiped it clean, and set it in place.
While he worked, Ursula kept an eye on him, an eye on her son, and an eye on the front door.
Luckily, I’m good at multitasking. Gallick returned, doing a double-take upon seeing the hulking berserker performing menial work.
But he said nothing about that, only solicitously inquiring as to her well-being.
Ursula smiled at him and replied, “Thank you, Mr. Gallick. Crow and I are fine. Have you spoken with the mayor and the sheriff?”
The restaurateur replied that he had, but he did not feel comfortable relating the details of the conversation to her. It wasn’t appropriate.
Ursula sighed. “Mr. Gallick, you should know very well by now that I will insist on being informed.”
He glanced at the berserker who was quite obviously listening to their conversation. “Prima, I would not cause you worry.”
“Mr. Gallick, I will be excessively worried if I do not know what the sheriff and mayor have decided.”
“Tell her,” Zul ordered.
The restaurateur’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Please, Mr. Gallick,” Ursula added.
Unwilling to confront the hulking berserker, the smaller male acquiesced, his shoulders sagging.
“The mayor believes word has gotten out that the Fangrys Prima is not adequately escorted and protected. When you leave town today, you should not be permitted to return without an armed escort and one of your mates.”
Ursula ground her molars and reminded herself that her neighbor was only the messenger.
He did not deserve her ire, despite his agreement with those who would treat her as weak, stupid, and incompetent.
He also had not delivered the answer she sought, namely, the formation of a posse to pursue and take into custody any other rosvoi patrolling the region.