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“It’s good to have another person to talk to. Laura’s a gem, but it’s nice having a fresh face around here. I’d watch yourself with that word—they don’t like it.”

“What do they call themselves?”

She shrugs. “Followers… or lately, wolves. No, the miner didn’t sell me. He told me he was beelining for the Human Federated territories, but he’d heard rumors of somewhere else. Obsidious. He could drop me off at a station where I could get another flight here, and he was… kind enough to give me enough credits to get to safety.”

I don’t ask what she had to do for those credits. I don’t want to know.

“Why here? Why didn’t you go to the humans?”

She sighs. “I don’t trust humans to protect me. Not with what’s coming. I trust Aurelians, but I was too far from their territories. I made my peace with this. These Followers…they have a strange code of honor. They let human men and women come here to work in exchange for protection, if you toil hard. And we’re off limits.”

“Why?”

She shakes her head. “Because they did not save our lives.” Matil leans back in the bench, as if she doesn’t fully understand it either. All my life I’d been told that Fanatics keep humans as helpless servants.

A strange code of honor indeed.

“What business were you going to start?”

She snorts. “I wanted to grow crops inside. UV lights. But this garden? It’s better than anything I could have imagined,” she says, waving to the raised beds. “Say. What’s your favorite color, Nelly?”

I blink in confusion for a second, then remember I lied about my name. “I’m sorry. My real name’s Athena, I just…”

“That’s a beautiful name. What’s your favorite color, Athena?”

Colors. What a luxury. “Green,” I say, looking at the lush grass that surrounds me.

“That will go with your hair and eyes. You’re going to look so beautiful,” she says, an honest smile growing on her lips.

“What do you mean?”

“Tarak’s having me go to the market, to exchange a talon for pleasure dresses.”

My mouth opens, then shuts soundlessly. I look down, embarrassed. Pleasure dresses. She knows I’m going to be wearing one of the classic dresses of the Aurelian harems.

When the Toad Lord humiliated me, I could become distant in my mind, forcing my body to act while I was somewhere else. I can’t find that distance anymore…but now, it’s not a deep humiliation. Since being near the Aurelians, every moment I live feels so much more real, and instead of being shameful, it’s titillating imagining wearing one of those beautiful, sensual dresses.

“Come on, out of the sun. If you burn, they’ll…come, sit down.”

I sit down next to her, in the shade. “Is it true? About the dresses?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never worn one. But I’ve seen women, owned by triads, wearing them. They’re so sheer you can see everything. Want me to try to get you some other clothes, too?”

I lift my head up high. “No. I made an agreement. I’ll honor it. If that’s what they want to put me in, that’s what I’ll wear…though I prefer simpler things, like these,” I say, running my hands over my well-made brown pants.

It’s so much better than being in the clothes Bladdard put us in. He alternated our garb, sometimes putting us in fine silks, other times in burlap sacks so rough you’d itch like crazy as you served him. It amused him, to not let our skin get used to the rough garments, and it amused him to put some of us in silks while others suffered so we would resent each other.

“Perhaps something black as well, my lady?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Please, just Athena. I was serving a bloody Toad just yesterday, I don’t feel like much of a lady. You make me sound noble.”

“You are. More than noble. Your broken triad is famed on Obsidious. Any woman who is their Mate…she would be a queen.”

I shiver, needing to change the subject. “Black does seem to be the favorite color of every damn Aurelian on this planet anyways. Alright. Something black as well. Tell me, Matil…do you know what pleasure dresses are made of?”

“They come from a tree far away. I never learned the name, though I wish I could grow them here. Some trees have fruits, so that birds may eat them, and pass them far away to grow. These trees have a different strategy. Their long, willowy branches descend towards animals, and their cotton sap brushes the limbs of whatever animal is near in a pleasing, addictive manner. The animals leave when they get hungry, but they always come back, to rub themselves against the trunks. When it’s made into a dress… well you’ve heard the rumors, I’m sure. I’ve never had the honor to wear one.”

The honor.