24. Clair
CLAIR
Clair woke slowly, warm and comfortable but with the feeling that something was missing.
For a few sleepy seconds she lay beneath the soft covers with her eyes closed, trying to figure out what felt wrong. Then she reached across the enormous bed and found nothing but cool sheets beneath her hand.
The memory of the night before came rushing back—the bath, Kaelus washing the massage oil gently from her skin, his big hands careful as he took care of her, then the warmth of his body beside hers as she curled into him and fell asleep.
She had a vague memory of lying with her head on his chest, listening to the deep, steady beat of his heart while one massive arm curved around her as though he meant to keep her safe from everything in the universe.
Apparently she had gotten used to the sensation entirely too quickly, because waking up without him made the huge bed feel strangely empty. And why had he left without saying goodbye?
Clair rolled onto her back and stared at the pale lavender light filtering through the translucent wall.
Her feelings of loss were ridiculous, she told herself. Kaelus wasn’t really her husband. He wasn’t her boyfriend, either. Hell, technically he wasn’t even her lover, though after what he had done to her on that massage table last night, the word coworker felt laughably inadequate.
They were scientists on a mission, pretending to be married because Titus Four had bizarre cultural requirements that made sharing a bed and engaging in extremely intimate activities part of maintaining their cover, she told herself. That was all.
Soon they would find the cure, go back to the Mother Ship, return to their laboratory, and presumably resume arguing about where she stored her equipment and whether coffee counted as an acceptable laboratory beverage.
So there was absolutely no reason for her chest to ache because the big grouch hadn’t been beside her when she woke. Absolutely none.
Right?
Clair sat up and immediately noticed that her clothes had been laid neatly across the chair near the bed. Kaelus had probably selected them before he left.
She smiled despite herself. He might have left for the day without saying goodbye, but at least he’d been thinking of her.
She showered quickly, dressed in the soft green dress he had apparently chosen for her, and ran her fingers through her curls until they looked reasonably presentable.
Then she made her way toward the kitchen, following the faint hum of equipment and the sweet floral scent she now recognized immediately as veloria.
Maera stood at a curved counter wearing a flowing blue-green dress, pouring thick pale-lavender nectar into two tall crystal glasses. The silver flecks suspended in the liquid caught the morning light and shimmered like tiny stars.
“Good morning, my dear!” she exclaimed. “I was beginning to wonder if you would sleep until midday.”
Clair yawned.
“I might have if my husband hadn’t abandoned me.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Maera gave her a knowing smile.
“He did not abandon you. Kaelus was up very early this morning. He asked me to tell you that he wanted to get an early start at the Blood Archive and would return as soon as he could.”
Clair paused halfway to the counter.
“He went already? With Sendar?”
“No.” Maera handed her one of the veloria shakes. “He specifically said he preferred to work alone today.”
Clair took the glass and immediately understood.
“Hmm, all right,” she murmured.
Maera lifted an eyebrow. “That sounds significant.”
“It might be.”
Clair took a sip of the sweet floral nectar. She was already becoming accustomed to the flavor, which worried her slightly because at this rate she was going to miss the stuff when they left.
“Sendar was blocking him from certain records yesterday,” she said. “Especially the old Savage Period samples. Kaelus probably figured he’d have better luck getting into the restricted sections without him hanging over his shoulder.”
Maera nodded.
“Ah, I see. I didn’t know Sendar was blocking him—he was told to give you both full access to the samples as long as you were learning our ways.” She gave Clair a significant look. “And after last night, I’d definitely say you are.”
“Er, thank you. Kaelus is a fast learner.” Clair ducked her head and took another sip of her lavender nectar drink.
“It must be a miscommunication—next time I talk to Sendar I’ll let him know to give Kaelus access to all the samples,” Maera said.
“Thank you.” Clair nodded and her eyes drifted toward the doorway despite herself. She wished Kaelus had awakened her before he left.
Which was stupid—he had probably let her sleep because he knew she was exhausted.
In fact, knowing Kaelus, he had probably spent several minutes debating whether waking her would interfere with her recovery and then decided her need for sleep outweighed her possible desire to know where he was going.
The thought should have made her feel better. Instead, she wished he had kissed her goodbye.
Oh, Lord, I’m in trouble, she thought. I have a big, fat crush on my fake husband. What am I going to do when we leave Titus Four and I don’t have any excuse to touch him other anymore?
She had no answer for that, so she consoled herself by drinking more veloria nectar. Maybe if she drank enough, she could chemically alter her brain until it stopped thinking idiotic things like how much she wished she and Kaelus were really a couple.
“Well,” she said briskly, doing her best to push the big Hybrid out of her thoughts with only limited success. “If my husband has decided to get a jump on the science, then I refuse to be outdone.”
Maera smiled.
“I thought you might say that. I already have some samples for us to test. Come on—let’s go.”
Their first task was examining the saliva samples Maera had ordered the previous afternoon.
Several dozen tiny crystal vials had arrived from women throughout Titus Four, all carefully labeled with age, medical history, length of regular veloria use, time since their last serving of nectar, and other relevant data.
Maera had also requested samples from a smaller group of husbands so they could compare the compounds present in male and female saliva, though Clair suspected the male samples would prove even more interesting once they began considering the possibility of intimate transmission.
They started with their own. Maera produced two sterile collection tubes.
“Well, this is glamorous,” Clair said as she deposited saliva into hers. “Nothing says ‘advanced interplanetary medical research’ like spitting into a tube.”
Maera laughed.
“Science is rarely as elegant as people imagine.”
“Tell me about it. I once spent three weeks collecting mucus from a carnivorous swamp flower,” Clair said dryly.
Maera looked fascinated.
“Was the mucus useful?”
“Oh, extremely. My colleagues were able to use it to make a cure for a deadly rash that had been threatening the native population of a backwater planet,” Clair said proudly.
Maera smiled.
“Then I see no difficulty. Even when it’s messy, science pays off.”
They loaded both their samples into the analyzer and the results appeared almost immediately. Clair leaned forward with interest to see them.
“Well, there it is,” she remarked.
The active veloria metabolite was present in both samples. But the difference in concentration was enormous. Maera’s saliva contained nearly nine times as much of the active compound as Clair’s.
“Wow,” Clair murmured. “Look at yours.”
Maera examined the figures.
“That seems quite high.”
“It is. But it makes sense. You’ve been drinking veloria since puberty, right?”
“Since my first flowering, yes.” Maera nodded.
“And every day? Correct?” Clair asked.
Maera looked thoughtful.
“Yes. Sometimes twice a day during periods of illness or stress.”
Clair nodded thoughtfully.
“I’ve had what—two glasses?”
“Three.” Her hostess smiled.
Clair looked at her, surprised.
“Three?”
“You drank one yesterday afternoon while we were working,” Maera reminded her.
“Oh, right.” Clair nodded.
Maera smiled.
“You forget to eat and drink when you are thinking.”
Clair smiled.
“Kaelus complains about that constantly.”
“I imagine he does. A good husband is always concerned about his goddess’s nutrition,” Maera said. “Come—let’s try some of the samples I ordered.”
They began testing the samples from other women and a pattern emerged quickly. Women who had consumed veloria regularly for decades had significantly higher concentrations of the active metabolite in their saliva than younger women or women whose intake had been sporadic.
There were variations, of course—metabolism differed from person to person—but the overall relationship was unmistakable. Even more interesting, women who had consumed nectar within two hours of giving the sample showed a sharp increase compared with samples taken later in the day.
Clair stared at the holographic graph forming in the air.
“So it accumulates over time, but there’s also an acute spike after each dose,” she said thoughtfully.
Maera nodded.
“It would appear so, yes.”
“And I already have measurable levels after just a few servings,” Clair went on. Her
pulse quickened. These findings mattered—she wasn’t completely certain why yet, but they mattered.
They spent the rest of the morning separating samples by age, dosage, intake history, reproductive stage, and dozens of other variables. By the time Maera insisted they stop for lunch, Clair’s stomach was growling loudly enough to embarrass her.
“I suppose Kaelus isn’t the only one who has to remind me to eat,” she admitted.
“No,” Maera said firmly. “And I promised him I would.”
Clair stared at her.
“He told you to make sure I ate?”
Her hostess nodded.
“This morning, before he left.”
He thought of me—he was thinking of me! whispered a little voice in her head and her stupid heart did a little flip before Clair could remind herself again that they were only coworkers playing their parts.