Chapter 24
Zul made sure Ursula was occupied in her parlor when the mayor, the sheriff, and their mate arrived at the Fangrys triad’s manse in obedience to the Fangrys Prime’s command.
The visitors looked about in awe, not quite gaping, at the majestic edifice in which the warrior triad lived as a supercilious castratus led them to Bran’s office.
Bran remained seated when they entered, surmising that standing and looming over them would be unnecessarily intimidating.
“We are here as you ordered, my lord,” the mayor said with a shallow bow of perfunctory respect.
Standing between her mates, the thin female sank into a deep curtsey, keeping her eyes downcast and her head properly covered. Bran noted her lack of adornment, the plain fabrics in dull colors she wore. Beside her, the sheriff bowed and said nothing.
“Mistress Soraia,” Bran addressed the female, who visibly flinched, “the castratus will take you to visit with the Prima.”
“Our mate goes nowhere without escort by either me or my bond,” the sheriff growled.
Bran leveled a cool look at him. “Do you imply your mate is in danger here?”
“Of course not, my lord.”
“Then why should she not visit with the Prima? The Prima’s friendship does your mate honor.”
“The Prima may unwittingly give offense,” the sheriff said, squaring his shoulders.
Bran tilted his head to one side—just a little. “Offense? Why don’t you elaborate? Explain how the Prima could possibly offend.”
“She does not know her place,” the mayor said.”
Bran leaned back in his chair. “So, you believe that a little time in my mate’s company will irrevocably corrupt your mate? Is your mate so weak of will, so impressionable that she cannot withstand association with the Prima?”
The female’s eyes widened even as she kept her gaze fixed on the floor. She seemed to shrink, to shrivel within herself.
“Hurvi, escort Mistress Soraia to the Prima’s parlor where she may relax and enjoy some refreshments.”
The female glanced at her mates whose small nods of permission released her from the oppressive weight of the Fangry’s Prime’s disapproval, though she did not sense he disapproved of her. She shivered with dread, for their humiliation at the Prime’s hand would undoubtedly land upon her.
“Oh, hello,” the Prima looked up in surprise.
She smiled, which made the other female hesitate and hastily consider leaving the pretty room to which the castratus had led her.
The Prima shot a speaking glance at the hulking berserker lurking in a corner and returned her attention to her unexpected visitor.
She bared her teeth again and extended her hand toward the other female who looked at it in confusion.
The Prima lowered her hand and sighed. “I do apologize.”
The female’s eyes widened at the Prima apologizing to her.
“I forget that you folks don’t smile or shake hands,” the Prima said with a small chuckle. “You’ll have to forgive me for being gauche.”
The female gulped at the concept of forgiving the Prima of any wrongdoing.
The Prima gestured. “Please, have a seat. Would you care for a refreshment?”
The female scurried to the chair and gingerly perched on the edge of the cushion. A castratus dashed forward at an unseen signal from his mistress and filled a small plate with small morsels of delectable treats. The female accepted the plate and wondered what to do next.
Seeing her guest’s discomfiture, the Prima sought to put her at ease. “I’ll have some, too.”
The castratus filled a plate and handed it to her when she reseated herself. The Prima popped a small, bite-sized pastry into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “I do love those.”
She leaned forward, balancing the plate on her knee. She smiled again, keeping her lips closed and her teeth covered. The other female responded with a hesitant flicker of an answering smile.
“So, I’m Ursula. What’s your name?”
Fixing her eyes on her lap, the female answered in a soft whisper, “Soraia, my lady.”
Ursula glanced again at Zul. You knew she was coming.
I knew. Bran asked me to make sure you were available to greet her.
Ursula sighed. He could have just asked me.
She felt his amusement. It’s more fun this way.
Hah. Very funny. This poor woman is terrified. She refocused her attention on Soraia. “Please do try the chocolate truffles. I had to work with the chef here for months to get them just right.”
Soraia looked at the confections on her plate in confusion.
“The dark brown ones.”
Soraia carefully picked upon one of the chocolate puffs and bit into it. She chewed, eyes widening again as the flavor filled her mouth.
“Good, aren’t they?” Ursula asked, popping another into her mouth. “The flavor pairs well with ti’chal.”
A castratus dashed forward at the mention of ti’chal to pour a dainty cupful and hand it to the Prima’s guest.
Soraia nodded and popped the rest of the morsel into her mouth. Her eyes widened at the rich, decadent flavor. “What is this?”
“Chocolate truffle. It’s a treat from Earth.”
“Earth?”
“The planet where I come from,” Ursula explained.
“Is all Earth food this wondrous?” Soraia picked up another truffle and chewed slowly to savor it.
Ursula chuckled. “Hardly. But I’d never feed a guest brussels sprouts or kale. That would be cruel.”
The two women lapsed into a less brittle quiet as they ate a few more snacks.
“So, what brings you to Fangrys?” Ursula examined the shy woman sitting opposite her. It was difficult to discern age among the Urib, but she sensed the female was older.
“The Prime summoned my mates,” the female answered.
“Ah,” Ursula replied with a shallow nod. She raised an eyebrow. “And they couldn’t leave you unsupervised?”
“I was summoned, too,” Soraiaya admitted. “I do not know why.”
“Who are your mates? Perhaps I know them.”
“The mayor and sheriff of Fangrys Village.”
Ursula bit back a guffaw and the disparaging comment that might have followed. Those two morons did something to offend Bran, didn’t they?
They insulted you, came Zul’s reply.
Well, it wouldn’t have been the first time.
Zul had no answer to that because it was true.
Ursula sighed. What does Bran expect me to do with this poor woman?
Engage her in conversation.
That’s not helpful.
He shrugged.
Ursula smiled, again making sure not to show her teeth. Reaching for an appropriately innocuous topic of conversation, she glanced out a window. “The firethorn is beautiful, is it not? I love seeing the desert bloom after a rain.”
Soraia’s shoulders relaxed at the safe topic and allowed her hostess to engage her in conversation. Ursula paid no attention to the passage of time and concealed her relief when the door opened. Soraia shot to her feet.
“The sheriff and mayor are ready to depart,” Hurvi announced.
Soraia drew her mantilla back over her hair, having let it fall away during her pleasant conversation with the Prima.
Her shoulders tensed and her gaze focused on the floor.
Ursula’s eyes narrowed. She recognized fear when she saw it.
Approaching the other woman, she settled a hand lightly on Soraia’s arm. Soraia flinched as though struck.
“If you need help, I will help you,” Ursula said in a low voice.
Still looking at the floor, Soraia shook her head and said nothing.
“Abuse is wrong, Soraia.”
Soraia said nothing.
Ursula sighed and patted her arm. “We won’t force anything on you, but please do visit again. You are always welcome here.”
Soraia whispered a thank-you, but did not look up.
“Hurvi, I’ll walk with Soraia back to the front door.”
The castratus nodded and led the way. Ursula linked her arm with the other woman’s and walked beside her. Zul fell into step behind them, keeping a watchful eye on his mate as always.
When she met Bran and Gil at the door where they stood facing the sheriff and mayor, the latter two wore closed, wooden expressions on their faces. Soraia disengaged herself from her hostess’ light grasp and scuttled to take her place between her mates.
“Remember what I said,” Bran said as Hurvi and another castratus opened the tall doors leading outside.
The sheriff and mayor bowed their heads, a gesture of both acknowledgement and subservience as they submitted to the Prime’s crushing dominance. Without further ado, they turned, ushering their mate ahead of them, and departed.
When the doors closed behind them, Ursula said, “What the hell was that about?”
Gil answered, “The sheriff and mayor gave offense.”
“They have seen the error of their ways,” Bran added, propping his hands on his waist. His tone oozed satisfaction.
Ursula snorted. “I doubt that.”
Gil grinned, showing his teeth. “Oh, Bran’s locked in to them now. Any misstep on their part, and we get to tear them to pieces.”
Ursula’s eyes widened. The bloodthirsty tone of Gil’s voice indicated that he meant what he said—and looked forward to the violence. She took a breath. “Soraia’s terrified of them, you know.”
“She no longer needs to fear them, but she will need your friendship to build her courage,” Bran said with confidence.
“She has it,” Ursula vowed. If anyone needed a friend and advocate, it was the sheriff and mayor’s mate.