Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Khesan
His commitments were, admittedly, better than mine. It itches painfully to acknowledge this, but it means that I will have to try harder to succeed and win Fiona to my side. Though Shathar is intimidating, and certainly an attractive Arshurian himself, I will prove my worth.
That Shathar, who watched me the whole time like I was a youngling about to make a fool of myself.
But there is one thing that I am certain about: this human woman is meant for me.
The smell of her is like nothing else. It is bright and airy, but distinctly feminine.
When she held my hand, I could feel energy flowing between us.
I wonder if Fiona could sense it, too. She seems overwhelmed, and I wish I could ease that burden on her. But having two full-grown Arshurians thrust upon you when you only signed up for one… that would be overwhelming to a small, soft female like her.
Small and soft and pretty as a flower, with eyes like jewels and hair the color of a cloud. Such a lovely creature as this was given to me?
But no—I still have to fight for her. Somehow I will have to convince her that Shathar is telling a lie about the mate bond, and I am telling the truth.
I believe in the will of the gods, of destiny, and I know they will not lead me astray.
At the end of this, I will have my mate all to myself and Shathar will slink home to his rustic little business “with his tail between his legs,” as humans would say.
Which is ironic, as humans don’t have tails.
Now that the ceremony is concluded, the little Frahma is eager to get us out of his sight—probably afraid we will come to blows.
But I will not give Shathar the satisfaction.
My temper may be simmering under the surface at the idea that I’ll have to share my mate for the next thirty days, but I won’t act on it.
Fiona leads the way out the door into the spaceport. She makes an uncertain humming noise as she glances back at the two of us, and she looks disturbed.
“What bothers you?” I ask, coming up to walk beside her so she can hear me over the rumbling noise of ship engines.
“My car. You both are, um, a little big. I’m not sure if everyone is going to fit, and one of you will have to sit in the back seat.”
She is already anxious about our presence, which is not good.
“We will be fine with whatever accommodations you have to offer,” I say in my smoothest voice, then glance at Shathar, who has come up on her other side.
“I will, however, sit in the front seat,” he says firmly, as if there’s no room for argument.
I gape at him. “You cannot simply decree this.”
He crosses his arms. Fiona glances between us, that worried crease between her brows returning.
“There are no dibs in my car,” she says crossly.
“Dibs?” I ask.
“When you say, ‘I get the front seat,’ that’s calling dibs.
” She shakes her head as we approach the opposite end of the spaceport.
“Dibs are inherently unfair. Seating should be decided by each individual’s needs.
” She pauses and sizes up the two of us.
“Khesan, you are taller, so you should have the front seat.”
Perfect. I will get to sit close to her on our journey, and Shathar will be relegated to the back. Clearly, Shathar doesn’t like this, but he bites his tongue.
We wander the asphalt lot for some time before Fiona locates her vehicle. “A-ha!”
“This will be plenty big enough,” Shathar says, patting the side. He shoots me one more glare as Fiona opens our doors to show us how they work, and I hop into the front seat.
It is an interesting method of travel, this land-based car. At home on Arshur, we ride a chariska, large animals who run on two legs, or else take a hovercraft. Hovercraft are very expensive, so only a few families—like mine—have them.
I should probably learn how to drive one of these cars.
Shathar grunts in irritation as he climbs into the back seat, and then we’re off. Fiona chews her bottom lip as she drives, navigating carefully around corners and through intersections. She has a steadiness about her that I like already.
“So, tell me about yourselves?” she asks, glancing sideways at me. “Khesan?”
Oh, am I happy to be asked this question.
“I come from a good family. We are known on Arshur for the size of our lands.”
Fiona arches a brow. “You’re rich?”
“I suppose. I joined the military a few years ago because the family name was stifling. Wanted to see more of the world and learn how to defend myself.” I turn to her. “To protect my future mate.”
Shathar scoffs from the back seat.
“What?” I demand, glancing at him. “Something you would like to say?”
“It is exactly what a military male would say. True strength isn’t in the ability to fight, though. It is in the ability to provide and care for your mate.”
I scoff in return. “Military service provides for all of these needs.”
Shathar says nothing, but his lips press together into a knowing smile. I don’t like that at all.
“Is there a lot of war on your planet?” Fiona asks, eyes widening.
“Our military is ornamental,” Shathar pipes up in the back seat, and I shoot him a glare. He continues. “Our country does not need protection, but we maintain it anyway. A waste of money and bodies, when they are needed to work fields and build homes.”
I seethe under the surface of my skin. I have heard all these things before.
“It is about service,” I snap. “Learning to protect, to care for others’ needs above yours, to make sacrifices for the greater good.”
It was, perhaps, selfish of me to leave the service to attend to my own needs. But that life had lost its meaning for me. What is the point of protecting if you have no one to protect?
Fiona lets out a thoughtful sound. “That makes sense. You are still learning useful skills even if you have no one to fight. Your world sounds nice.”
“Arshur has its positive qualities,” I say, turning my head to peer out the window at the trees going by, which are merely sticks. “It is mostly desert, though, and there are few places where we can work the land. As a result, our population remains small. It is… difficult to find a mate.”
Shathar does not argue with me. At least we can agree on the reason we came to Earth—to search for a mate when there are so few readily available at home. To find forever with someone.
“Oh, I get it.” Fiona’s smile is lovely. “Is that why you both did the Matching Program?”
I nod. “Similar plight as your own world. There are very few choices, and I am looking for something… permanent. Many females my own age on Arshur are not ready yet.”
Fiona’s cheeks redden. “You are just ahead of them in maturity. That happens sometimes.”
“An inexperienced male,” Shathar says in the back seat. “Why did you not seek a mate older than you?”
I flash him my teeth. “None appealed to me. But when I heard of the Matching Program, I knew it was because I was intended for something else.” I turn to Fiona. “Someone else.”
Her face turns even redder. “That’s sweet.” She looks up into the mirror again. “What about you, Shathar?”
I am growing ever more annoyed that I will have to share all of her time with him. I hope I can end their courtship quickly and send Shathar home.
“On Arshur, I owned a grocery,” he says calmly, in that low voice of his. “It was a humble living, but I brought people the things they needed.”
“What’s going to happen to it now that you’re gone?” Fiona asks, and I am wondering the same thing.
“I sold the business to a friend. He will do well.”
So he did all that, gambling on the Matching Program? It is too bad he will have to go back and start over when Fiona makes her decision.
“Perhaps you can be an employee at your own business when you return home,” I quip.
There’s a snarl in the back seat.
“All right, no fighting in the car,” Fiona snaps. “I need to focus on the road. Khesan, that was a low blow.”
I grit my teeth and sit back in my seat, chastised.
“Why did you come to Earth if you were giving up so much, Shathar?” Fiona asks.
“Because I knew you were here.”
The answer startles even me. I squint at Shathar in the mirror that peers into the back seat. He looks composed and sincere.
“I knew that the answer to my prayers did not exist on Arshur,” he goes on. “When the Frahma came talking about his program, I was certain that was my destiny. Where I would find my one, my only, if I went to Earth.” He shrugs. “Perhaps it was a path set by the gods, and I heard them.”
Fiona covers a cheek with her hand and exhales a breath as we approach a human house, and she pulls onto the concrete pad in front of it. This must be where she lives.
“That’s lovely, Shathar,” she says, and I hold in a hiss.
Here, the houses all appear to be some sort of manufactured wood, with sloped shingle roofs, which is inefficient but understandable in the climate. In the desert, we use brick and clay to build, and tile for roofing.
Fiona still hasn’t spoken as she gets out of the car, then opens the rear door so we can retrieve our belongings.
I brought all the clothes I should need, which filled two rucksacks.
Shathar only has one, which makes me wonder if he packed light on purpose, intending to buy new things, or if he had little to begin with.
Gah, Shathar. A useless thing to think about when I’m here to woo my mate.