Page 14

The position of the house faced away from the rising sun, which meant Aurora was greeted each morning by the gentle brightening of the sky rather than harsh beams blaring through her windows. But the sun was the sun and as far as she could tell, her windows had no curtains, so regretfully she was awake.

She slammed a pillow over her head to keep out the light and hissed a string of curses. Although she’d endured nearly a week of shitty sleep at this point, today was the first day she’d really felt the effects. It had finally caught up with her.

Her survival instincts had been driving her mood before, burying all her paltry human needs like sleep and food under a blanket of life-threatening, top-priority concerns. Normally, on Earth, she slept like a rock. Eight hours minimum without fail. More if she could get it. Considering how sluggish and groggy she felt, she wondered if she’d even managed eight over the past three days.

At length, Aurora dragged herself out of bed and began the arduous task of getting ready for the day between bouts of yawning. She stared at the piles of clothing in the gift room for a long while with stinging eyes before finally selecting something to wear.

When she peered at her reflection, she frowned. The dress fit just as well as the others, but there was something dingy about her appearance. Her hair was flat, skin dull, and eyes bloodshot. She focused on each flaw, growing grumpier the longer she stared. How was it possible to look deflated and puffy at the same time?

A knock echoed from her door, and she froze. That could only be one person. If she didn’t answer, she could guess what would happen. He’d return with a tray of food, place it outside her door, then leave her alone as he’d done every other morning.

The problem was that now, unlike before, she wanted to see him, though she was attempting to stifle that urge. She needed to keep her brain grounded in reality. This was a rescue attempt and there was a man’s life at stake.

Another silent moment passed as she tried to fluff her limp hair before giving up. Aurora pulled the door open in time to catch him walking away, shoulders hunched as though disappointed. Her belly flipped.

Rhaego glanced over his shoulder, straightened, and spun toward her, his face brightening.

Had he gotten more handsome overnight? He wore another perfectly tailored, elaborate outfit. Rich blue-and-gold-patterned fabric complemented his deep red skin and black hair. Her eye caught briefly on the hint of chest hair beneath the crossover dip of his shirt.

Forcing her gaze up, she smothered the voice wondering how much chest hair he had. Maybe if he was furry like a bear under it all, she’d finally find a reason to be turned off. Furry might look good on him, though.

His gaze dropped and drifted over her outfit, and it felt as though he were admiring each individual stitch. She fidgeted. What did she normally do with her arms?

Rhaego cleared his throat before speaking. “Your breakfast is waiting. Where would you like me to bring it?”

“Um, the terrace again?”

He nodded, and his jaw clenched and unclenched. “Would you care if I joined you?” His brows rose ever so slightly as he waited for her to respond.

“No.” A flicker of what looked like devastation twisted his mouth before he schooled his features, and Aurora quickly corrected, “I mean no, I don’t mind. You can join me.”

His impressive chest expanded on a breath and a little more of his hair peeked out. “Wonderful.” Aurora concentrated very hard on not staring, but it was difficult as his pecs were nearly in line with her eyes.

“I was hoping to help you cook today, but I guess I was too late. Did you just finish making breakfast?”

“A few minutes ago,” he agreed.

She exited her room when he took a step back, and they made their way down the hall. “Lucky coincidence I was up, then. I almost tried to sleep more.”

His lips parted in the way that said she’d puzzled him. “Not a coincidence. The sensors in your bed alerted me when you rose, and I started preparing it.”

“Sensors?” Aurora felt a familiar sense of violation. On the surface, communicating when she got up from bed seemed innocent enough. But what else was the mattress capable of relaying? As they reached the terrace and she dropped into her seat, she pictured all the furniture in her room, suddenly suspicious of every inanimate object.

“They monitor many things like temperature and spinal alignment to ensure your comfort. It indicated that you haven’t been sleeping well, and it’s been attempting to adjust settings to allow you a peaceful night, but none of its changes appear to be working.”

Rhaego remained standing, presumably to retrieve their breakfast, when they reached a lull in the conversation.

“That’s…interesting.” Aurora’s mood soured at the confirmation that the privacy of her room was not all that private. She didn’t know how to feel about how closely Rhaego had paid attention to her mattress’s data. It felt intimate for him to know things like that, but she couldn’t pinpoint anything particularly sinister about it.

She continued to mull over her misgivings as he left to fetch breakfast. Her sleep-deprived crabbiness might’ve been playing more of a role in her mood than it would otherwise, so she decided not to mention her discomfort just yet. If the tattletale mattress still bothered her tomorrow, she’d broach the subject with him.

When he returned, he set two steaming bowl-sized mugs of amber liquid on the table along with a round tray filled with piles of dried herbs, vegetables, and other food-ish looking items she couldn’t categorize. Her attention was instantly captured.

Then a thought occurred, and she narrowed her eyes, watching Rhaego as he grabbed bits of items on the tray and dropped them into his mug.

She waved at the spread on the table. “When did you get up? You said you started making this when you were alerted that I got out of bed. What if I’d gotten up super early while you were still sleeping?”

He reached for the dried-herb section of the tray and used a tiny silver spoon pinched between two sharp claws to add a few things to his mug. “I doubt you would’ve roused earlier than me, but I woke with the dawn just in case.”

“So…so you were just hanging around, waiting for my mattress to tell you I was up so you could cook? Have you been doing that every morning?”

One look at Rhaego’s expression and she knew the answer was yes. Aurora rubbed her hands over her face and murmured to herself, “And I was taking my sweet-ass time getting ready.” She lifted her head. “Don’t do that anymore, okay? You deserve to sleep in. I can cook my own breakfast. You don’t need to wait on me hand and foot.”

Rhaego peered at the spread before them, his brows knitting. “You don’t like the food?”

“No! I appreciate everything you’re doing for me. Truly. I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but I—”

The glorious sound of his rumbling chuckle had goose bumps rushing over her skin. She dropped her hands.

“What?”

“The thought of you as ungrateful…” Rhaego shook his head, privately enjoying whatever the joke was. He took a sip from his mug, then crossed an ankle over the opposite knee and rested his cup on the other. “Do you know what any of these ingredients are?” He pointed at the table.

Aurora’s lips pursed. “Well, no. But—”

He tipped his head to the side. “And have you ever used any of the appliances you saw in the kitchen? Do you even know how to activate the knife?”

A huff escaped her. She didn’t answer this time, since the questions were clearly rhetorical.

His smile was gentle, like he enjoyed her little sound of frustration. “The more human females I meet, the more curious I grow as to what treatment you receive on Earth. You all seem very determined not to allow males to tend to your needs, no matter how tedious the task. On Clecania, we take pride in caring for our wives.”

Aurora had an argument ready and waiting for when he stopped speaking, but his last statement had her insides heating and she lost track of what she’d wanted to say. “But I’m not your wife,” she finally whispered.

His throat bobbed, and his smile flickered. “It’s not your place to toil and…” He glanced at her as though not sure whether to say what he wanted. “I enjoy doting on you. It’s been a long while since I’ve had a wife to spoil. Even if our marriage is a cover, it’s good practice.” His gaze strayed to the shimmering surface of his mug. “Besides, you deserve to rest after what you’ve been put through.”

Aurora sat back, torn. By his own account, Rhaego had a difficult task ahead of him. He shouldn’t be expending precious energy on anything besides seeing this mission through. And she had two good hands. It made sense for her to take on the chores so he could focus on more important things.

But…Rhaego had claimed to enjoy doting on her, and the idea made her insides squirm in all the right ways.

When he’d mentioned that it’d been a long time since he’d been married, she’d heard subtle longing clinging to the words. Maybe he was one of those strange unicorn men who actually enjoyed taking care of his woman. Acts of service. That’s what that love language was called, wasn’t it?

“You’ve been married before?” she asked in what she hoped was a convincingly casual tone.

His mild grin faltered. “Yes. Thrice before.”

Three times? He’s chased and caught and cared for three other wives? Aurora didn’t like knowing that for some reason, but she didn’t think it wise to deliberate on why, so she made a noncommittal hum while sniffing different ingredients on the table and chewing them experimentally. One was briny and salty, reminding her of wakame. The other smelled like a rich, fragrant beef even though the color was closer to that of a banana. “Marriages are temporary here, right? Six weeks? So is three—now four—a normal amount?”

“For a male?” Rhaego considered her question. “Over a lifetime, yes, but for my age, I’d say I’ve been married more than normal.”

Aurora continued to test foods while digesting that, but it was difficult to make any judgments since the lens with which she understood marriage was so foreign. If a human man in his thirties told her he’d been married three times before, she’d have some major reservations. But marriage didn’t mean the same thing here.

Burying the sourness in her belly, which she absolutely refused to define as jealousy, she tentatively asked, “What’s a normal number of marriages for women?” If this plan to get her and the other humans out failed, she wanted to know what to expect.

Rhaego’s brows lifted. He thought. And thought. And thought. Her jaw clenched. “That’s hard to gauge. I would say if a female hasn’t successfully conceived, it would be normal for her to participate in a marriage once every year or two.”

Every year? Aurora’s throat went dry.

“If she’s able to conceive, a few years of respite are in order. And if she finds withholding emotion difficult to manage, she may need longer intermissions. But at least once every three years over a lifetime would be average, I’d say. My mother was a diligent citizen. She married once a year at least…” His expression shifted, the thoughtful spark in his eyes dimming. His gaze darted away from hers as he quietly finished, “Apart from a few exceptions.”

One marriage a year? And he’d said at least . Did she enjoy marriage? After so many times, did she have other children? Rhaego’s siblings? Was she still alive? He’d said his mother was a diligent citizen. Aurora didn’t know why, but she’d assumed Rhaego had no family left in Tuva. Why else would he be okay with banishment?

Aurora stopped herself from speaking without thinking, though questions bobbed in her throat. It was clear there was something delicate hidden in the topic of his mother, and she wanted to be sensitive to that.

“What about your father? Do you still have family here?”

“My mother. She’s my only kin in Tuva. My father died when I was a buckling.” He spoke without emotion, but Aurora felt there was pain hiding below his nonchalance.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry,” she said, meeting his eye. “Are you close with your mother?”

Rhaego chewed for a moment before answering. She didn’t think there was anything in his soup that would cause his jaw to flex that much, though. “I am. She raised me after my father’s death.”

Hadn’t he said she’d married nearly once a year? Did that mean Rhaego had been hauled from home to home as a child? “Does she know what you plan to do here?”

“Not yet. I hope to bring her with us, though.” He lifted his mug, nodding toward her untouched one. “You should eat before it grows cold.”

Curiosity gnawed at her, but it was clear he was uncomfortable, so she let the topic lie. Leaning forward, she eyed the tray. “What do we have for breakfast?”

The stiff set of Rhaego’s shoulders softened slightly. “When we rise, we have our morning brew. It’s a broth made from fouthi . People add mixings of their choice, but it can also be consumed plain.”

Aurora took a tentative sip of the thick broth. Savory and decadent. The hot liquid was silky as it slid down her throat. “Mmm.”

A broad smile bloomed across Rhaego’s face at her sound of delight. She tried not to stare, but he’d never smiled that openly before, had never fully shown his fangs before. Fluttering picked up in her chest.

That grin was devastating . The sight of his exposed fangs only enhanced his handsome features, like black pepper added to a spell. It gave him a little zing.

She forced herself to stop staring for fear he might grow self-conscious and choose to keep his lips closed the next time he grinned. “I’m surprised this is all you eat for breakfast. With your size, I imagined piles of eggs and bacon.”

He shrugged, unhooked his ankle from his knee and leaned forward, pushing the tray with all the mixings toward her. “It may seem light, but the broth is quite dense. Fouthi are exceptional sources of fat and protein. We introduce the brew to bucklings as early as possible since it’s critical for strong horn development.” With a black claw, he pointed at a small pile of rusty-red shavings. “I think you’ll enjoy this— subeanta .”

Aurora picked up a slice of the subeanta and took a nibble. She kept her lips sealed politely while chewing, but the corner of her mouth lifted. He was right.

It was firm and a little chewy, like licorice, but tasted like carrot. She gave Rhaego a once-over, then shook her head at her own musings. To Aurora, food carried deeper meaning. Flavor, color, appearance, historical usage, and even shape all contributed to how an ingredient functioned in a spell. What called to her most when eating the subeanta was the flavor—carrots. There was no way he could know that carrots were often associated with love and lust, though. Right?

She perked up. They were also tied to clarity. Maybe she could craft a little spell with these ingredients to help process all she’d learned and clear her mind. Aurora added some more subeanta to her mug and started examining the herbs eagerly, using her intuition to guide her choices. She pinched the last herb on the board between her fingers and lifted it to her nose, then froze.

Lavender. It smelled just like lavender. Excitedly, she raised the herb for Rhaego to see. “Do you have any more of this?” The color leaned more red than purple, but the texture and smell were dead-on. If she could find more, and if the herb proved as versatile as Earth lavender, she’d have a good ingredient for all kinds of things.

“Yes. A little. I can pick up some more tomorrow when we go into town.” He nodded and tipped his mug toward the rear of the house. “There’s plenty growing in the forest at this time of year as well. I could harvest more if you’d like it sooner.”

“Even better.” Aurora dropped the herb into her cup, then used a stiff, stalky vegetable to stir the concoction clockwise, silently invoking clarity. “I’m so curious about how this—what’s it called?”

“ Demelocae . A blood-drop bell commonly.”

Her stirring paused. The name intrigued her even more. “How far is it?”

“Not far,” he assured. “But it’s a bit of an effort to reach. You can stay and rest while I go fetch it for you. You must be tired.”

“No,” she argued, despite the fact that she was incredibly tired. Aurora had never been keen on accepting help, and the rate at which she was becoming increasingly indebted to Rhaego made her uncomfortable. “I know you have more important things to do here, and I don’t want to be in your way. If you give me directions, I could go find it on my own.”

“We are at a forced halt until the luncheon. Even if my team succeeds in overriding our escape cruiser and selecting an extraction point, I still don’t know where their densteads are. Our day is free.” His brows lifted. “I’d like to accompany you to the forest, if you’ll allow it.”

Was he just being nice? Or was that eagerness in his eyes because he wanted to spend time with her? The broth seemed to reheat in her belly.

“If you’re sure.” Hiding a smile, she took a sip and frowned. The flavors of the ingredients she’d added didn’t mesh well. She’d just ruined the delicious brew. Brushing off the spike of annoyance, she forced herself to finish the broth. Hopefully its gross flavor wouldn’t affect the efficacy of the spell. “Maybe we can brainstorm more questions I can ask the girls while we’re out. I used to go on field expeditions for my job, and we’d camp for weeks at a time. My best ideas always came to me outdoors.”

Rhaego leaned forward, his pale gray eyes sparking with interest. “What was your profession?”

Her heart pinched at the word was .

I don’t have a profession anymore, do I? “I was an entomologist. A lepidopterist, specifically. I was a research and collections assistant at the Kirby Center down in Florida.” She wrinkled her nose apologetically at his narrowed eyes. “Did all that translate?”

“I believe so,” he said slowly. “You studied flying insects in a province of your country?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

He nodded, grinning again. “Perhaps we’ll see some similar species on our walk. The flowers attract all kinds.”

Excitement at the prospect crackled through her. As prickly and fatigued as she was, Aurora still felt confident that she could enjoy the day.