Page 20

Aurora gazed at Tuva through new eyes. It wasn’t that the prettiness of the city no longer felt like a bear trap; it was that now it felt like she was walking into Tuva alongside a friendly bear who knew exactly where all the traps were. She had a shield next to her. A very large, very hot shield.

Phirdo ushered them toward a young boy no older than thirteen if she had to guess. He tried to stifle a yawn, and a larger man, a picture of the boy in thirty years, admonished him quietly. A parent and child were recognizable no matter the species, it seemed.

Aurora quelled a smile, an old longing pang pulsing in her chest for a moment before it went away like always. She’d never really known her parents. They’d decided against the job a few years after she’d been born and left her to be raised by her grandmother.

There had been a time in her life when she’d cared about their abandonment and wondered where they were, but now the idea of them was more of a passing ache than an active wound. They’d taught her at a very young age that family was who you chose it to be. Though painful, they hadn’t chosen her, so in turn, she didn’t choose them.

Still, the passing flicker of jealousy she sometimes got when she saw happy parents with their children always caught her by surprise.

All sleepiness wore off the boy as they—or more precisely Rhaego—approached. The boy’s violet eyes widened with each step her fake husband took, and his father had to still him with a hand at his back to keep him from stumbling away a step. Odd.

Both the boy and his father wore long purple robes and squashed pillow-like hats that flopped between their horns—the father’s curled into a spiral while the boy’s horns remained straight and pointed. The boy’s was too big for him. The brim kept sliding back, and he had to keep tugging it forward to cover his dark maroon hair.

Aurora focused on each of the men around her and found them all peering expectantly at the boy who gawped at Rhaego.

Phirdo let out a frustrated chuff. Aurora bristled until she realized he wasn’t directing the sound toward her as usual but toward the boy. His father made an impatient chuff as well and snatched a long purple piece of fabric from his lax palm. The boy jumped, glancing around the group as though just now realizing everyone else was there.

When he caught his father’s eye he flushed and stared at the sky.

“Apologies,” the man said. He lifted the fabric. “This is his first ceremony, and you are his first pair.”

Rhaego’s jaw was stiff, but he nodded. There was something unspoken in this exchange. It was like the boy was scared of Rhaego like she’d first been, but that didn’t make any sense. She’d been scared to see what she thought was a demon in the flesh. But he looked just the same as the rest of his people. Maybe a bit bigger, she supposed. Why was the boy wary of him?

Rhaego extended his right hand, fist closed. He then gave Aurora the briefest of glances as though he didn’t want to meet her eye but wanted her to copy him. She did, lifting her right hand.

“Your left, my lady,” the boy squeaked. He stepped forward, chin lifted like he was regaining his courage. He tried to take the ribbon out of his father’s hand, and after a brief pursing of his lips, the man let him.

“Oh.” Aurora switched hands.

The boy began to wrap the fabric around her wrist. It wasn’t handfasting in the way she knew it. It was more like being leashed to each other. There was a pretty band of embroidered fabric attached to her wrist with a golden clasp in the shape of a two-headed spider. The boy held the jeweled item in place with his thumb, and after a moment the spindly legs activated, clamping around the fabric to lock it in place. Aurora jumped.

The boy panicked. “Did I hurt you?” His worried eyes flashed toward his father, and he scrambled to undo the clasp.

“No, no,” she assured, touching the boy’s hand to keep him from trying to tear off the clasp. “I was just surprised.” His gaze widened on her hand as though her touch was unexpected. Oh shit, maybe this was rude too. “Sorry,” she said, quickly removing her palm.

The boy’s eyes lifted to hers, and a light flare of ruby glowed in their violet depths. All three men growled in unison, and the boy blinked. Any red she’d seen in his eyes vanished and instead rose like an internal flame to his face, turning his pleasant vermillion complexion into a dark cherry shade of embarrassment only a teen could feel.

Her heart went out to the young—likely puberty-riddled—boy as he fumbled tying the other band around Rhaego’s still-outstretched wrist while keeping his head hunched down. The men exchanged a look, and Aurora realized they’d silently decided not to chastise the kid for pushing horns.

Good. He was embarrassed enough as it was. She remembered that feeling—making a mistake while all eyes were on you and wishing you’d dissolve into a puddle right there on the spot. She wanted to make him feel better and compliment him on the fine job he’d done tying Rhaego’s messy knot and crookedly attaching his clasp, but she didn’t know whether shining more of a spotlight would just further embarrass him, so she bit her tongue.

As they walked away, Aurora swung her wrist, eyeing the three-foot length of fabric attaching her hand to Rhaego’s a little disappointedly. She’d die before admitting it out loud, but the night before she’d dreamed of this. In her dream, their hands had been tied together directly, without any slack rope in the middle. They’d had to hold hands all day. When she’d awoken, she’d secretly hoped that that was what this binding would entail.

It would have been nice to have a legitimate reason to hold Rhaego’s hand that didn’t involve the sickening notion of admitting her feelings to him and like a drooling crush-riddled schoolgirl asking whether he’d maybe possibly want to perhaps hold hands with her.

His little surprise didn’t help calm her butterflies either. What was clearly a ridiculous and rude suggestion according to Phirdo was a dream for Aurora. An alien grocery store? Where she could gaze and gawk at a whole world of new ingredients? She was already preparing herself for the inevitability that she wouldn’t be able to see everything during this trip. There wasn’t enough time before the luncheon.

Her nerves sang as though someone had just strummed them. Rhaego wouldn’t be around for that part, and she hoped beyond hope that she did him proud. She’d started running through pop-culture references she could use to speak to Diana and Maggie in code in case Rhaego was right and they couldn’t get a moment alone together. But that kind of talking could only take her so far, right?

She bit her lip. As she stressed over the task, she fiddled with her hair. Halfway to her nose, she realized she was unconsciously trying to smell herself and dropped the strands with a muffled gasp. Rhaego peered down at her but didn’t seem aware of what she’d been about to do.

Secretly, she’d been smelling her hair—Rhaego’s lingering scent—all day. A little thrill ran through her whenever she got a whiff. She reasoned that he wouldn’t know what she was doing even if he caught her, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t think her a weirdo for walking around sniffing her own split ends.

“On to the market, if you still wish to go,” Phirdo drawled while stepping in front of them. Aurora glanced up to Rhaego, unsure what to say.

He nodded toward the steward, who turned on his heel and strode away.

She touched Rhaego’s arm to get his attention. “He’s coming with us?” she whispered.

His eyes lingered on the spot she touched for a beat longer than normal, then he seemed to shake himself. “Uh, yes. He’ll accompany us all day. If I do any shopping, he’ll be the one to carry it and transport it back to the den.”

“Ah.” Aurora nodded, then raised a conspiratorial brow. “I’ll make sure to pick out something very heavy, then.”

A slow creeping smile spread across Rhaego’s full lips. “What a clever wife I’ve caught.”

Aurora was a melty pool of goo for a good few minutes of their walk after that. Rhaego didn’t seem to notice her stolen wistful glances in his direction, though, and when she caught sight of his stiff expression, the tightness in his brow, and the darting of his eyes as if he were preparing to see something unpleasant, the goo hardened.

What was he so worried about? Was their walk more dire than she realized?

Aurora studied Tuva as they ventured through the streets now slowly filling with yawning Tuvastans. Gray stone buildings with sparkling spired roofs lined most pathways. Cascades of vines and flowers crawled over the sides of buildings adding color and interest to the stone.

It all seemed so normal. So human. But she kept catching sight of little details here and there that reminded her of where she was. The sheen of black glass shifting into clear as residents opened their windows and let the light in for the day. Floating balls of light drifting from their lamps down into little street nooks to recharge. A man patching a cracked section of stone with a viscous green material. From his previous patches on the building, she could see the progress of the green slowly shifting to gray and hardening until it disappeared, becoming indistinguishable. What if the buildings weren’t built of stone at all but some other alien product that looked like stone?

Waterways flowed through the city as well, just like they did in the den. Aurora was stopped in her tracks when a stone bridge suddenly emerged from the edge of the street they were walking along and stretched across the stream until it connected with the base of an ornate door she hadn’t seen initially.

Now that she studied the building across the river, she spotted many doors. They hung in the center of the wall over the water ensuring that if anyone tried to leave their home, they’d fall right in the stream. The bridge must appear like a drawbridge over a moat when programmed.

It was all so wonderous. And then they reached the market.

Aurora remained glued in place at the entrance. The walls and ceiling were made of glass, like an enormous Victorian greenhouse. Shifting columns of products five stories high at least lined all four walls. As she watched, she saw a few of the columns rise and fall, transporting the goods found higher up, down to the customers waiting patiently below like a grocery elevator.

Along the far wall, the columns housed produce. The plants sprouted from large mouths of what she assumed was a hydroponic system. Stalls filled the rest of the market, selling nonperishable goods.

Aurora’s neck tingled, and she finally recognized the sensation of eyes on her. Her mouth was hanging open, and both Rhaego and Phirdo were peering at her, Phirdo with clasped hands and pursed lips Rhaego with a gentle, satisfied smile.

Suddenly a loud, floor-shaking grinding made her jump back, wrenching Rhaego’s attached wrist toward her. He took a step closer.

“Sorry. Sorry,” she gasped. Silently, she registered that he’d let himself be tugged around. He was so strong that if he’d decided to remain in place, she’d have really hurt her wrist jumping away like that.

He pointed to their left, where movable columns began to rise from newly revealed caverns in the floor. Glass tanks as wide as box trucks ascended, one on top of the other, along the market’s walls. Some of the tanks held fish that looked like they could easily be found on Earth. Others contained aquatic life that she couldn’t begin to identify. One creature seemed to be made entirely of bubbles; another resembled a knotted ball of seaweed bobbing through murky water.

“Shall we get some more gwelding filets while we’re here?” Rhaego asked, pointing to a large pink man sitting behind a long counter.

When Aurora nodded, he turned to Phirdo. “We’ll manage in here. You may wait in the steward portico if you’d like.” Phirdo scowled, then turned on his heel and stalked away.

Aurora stared after the man, wondering what she could do to make him happy. Even if he was a little…short-tempered and stuffy, it was clear he felt offended by most everything she and Rhaego did. She didn’t want that, but didn’t quite know how to fix it.

Rhaego tugged on their binding, drawing her attention, and they made their way over to the fishmonger, who hurriedly gulped down something from a bowl he was cradling, then stood to greet them.

“Good morn,” he croaked in a voice that sounded like he’d just swallowed sandpaper. His gaze shifted from Aurora to Rhaego to the fabric binding their hands together. “What would you like?” The man was being professional enough, but the slant to his brows told her he was confused. Initially, he’d directed the question to Rhaego. But then he peered at her again, gears turning behind his eyes. “Pardon me, my lady—what would you like?”

“Uh…” Why was he asking her? “Gwelding, please.”

He typed a few commands on a monitor in front of him, and the column of tanks began to slide downward along their track. “How many please? Gilpeys or elder? And would you like them snapped?”

Aurora stared blankly.

“Two gilpeys, please. Filleted,” Rhaego answered.

She smiled at him in silent thanks. The pink fishmonger muttered an acknowledgment and typed a few more things into his monitor. He glanced up at the column, still descending slowly. An awkward silence hung in the air as they waited.

The man gave Rhaego another quick, critical once-over, then stepped to the side so he was more directly in line with Aurora. “Were the fish he purchased last week unsuitable? I assure you they were fresh when I packed them. Perhaps they spoiled more quickly in his care?”

“What?” Aurora peered at Rhaego and found him staring straight ahead jaw tense. “N-no,” she sputtered. “They were incredible. Why would they spoil faster just cause he had them?”

The male blanched to a paler shade of pink. “Apologies,” he rushed out. “I’m unused to seeing wives choring with their husbands. I assumed…”

A tank containing large plum-colored fish with rounded bodies came to a halt behind him, and with a look of relief, he rushed away. Catching a couple fish with a net, he headed to his counter and set to butchering them.

Aurora flinched, turning away from the sight.

She inched closer to Rhaego. He didn’t look at her, though she knew he was aware of her. She tugged gently on their bindings. Jaw muscles working with a swallow, he slowly peered down at her. Something akin to embarrassment shone in his expression. What was wrong? He’d been off since they stepped foot in Tuva, and something told her it wasn’t just nerves concerning their mission.

Phirdo’s reaction this morning replayed through her head. She peered around the market and found the eyes of a few other customers and clerks lingering on them. Some even whispered to each other as if gossiping.

She turned back to Rhaego, puzzle pieces falling into place. “They all think I’m here because you did something wrong?” Wives didn’t do these chores. Phirdo had told her as much this morning. She’d known this logically, but she hadn’t quite understood what her being here would look like to these judgmental people.

Rhaego didn’t answer, but the stiffness in his expression told her she was right.

“Why did you offer to bring me if you knew this would happen?” she whispered while eyeing all the shoppers sneaking glances in their direction.

“Because I knew it’d bring you joy.”

Her gaze swung back to his, but she was having trouble finding her words.

His head dipped low, and his brows lifted. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Throat dry and insides squirming with heat, she nodded.

A small, relieved smile lifting his lips. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Damn, he’s a sweet man! Her heart swelled until she couldn’t contain herself any longer. She stretched to the tips of her toes, just far enough to plant a kiss on his cheek.

When she lowered to her heels, Rhaego remained stooped. Eyes wide and face flushed, a red glow burned around his pupils, leaching out into his gray irises like a creeping fire. The rumble of his purr lit the air before he smothered it.

Her belly somersaulted. “Thank you.”

She peered at the pink man and found his eyes wide and his hands frozen halfway between wrapping their fillets. “I know it’s a little unorthodox for me to be here, but I was just so curious. An alien planet with all new fish and animals and spices. Wouldn’t you be dying to explore, too?”

The man considered her for a moment, his ruby brows drawing together as he straightened. “I…I suppose I would, yes.”

“What’s the strangest fish you’ve ever sold?” She stepped closer, hoping her friendliness could help prove that she was happy to be here.

The fishmonger’s lips twitched, a spark of interest lighting his eyes. “Well…”