Page 34 of Xel: Broken Bond

He watched me seriously, as if trying to see through into my mind, to read my innermost thoughts. And then he said the most brazen and unexpected thing. “Nobody’s supposed to want you, either. Are they?”

Despite the frankness of the words, there was nothing vicious or argumentative in his tone. This honesty was something I had never had with my previous master, and I was struggling to decide whether it was a good thing or not.

“And yet here I am,” I said, looking him in the eye. “Renovating your barn and helping you wrangle stubborn donkeys. And so far, you haven’t seemed displeased about it.” Stars above, I was braiding my own noose here. No master liked having an argumentative dimari. And yet somehow, I couldn’t stop. I waited for the blast of shame and nausea that would be my own inner reprimand for defying my master… but both sensations remained conspicuously absent.

Finally, after a heart-pounding wait, my master sighed. “Fine. You can bring them both to the house. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. I’ll get a carrier for Mr Beans. Bribie knows the way around well enough to just follow us. And you’ll need to bring some cat food and a litter tray.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied eagerly. I opened the door for Bribie, and he hauled himself to his feet, tail spinning in circles as he lumbered along as fast as his old legs would allow. I gathered the necessary supplies, then met my master in the cattery, where he was coaxing Mr Beans into the carrier. He was not enthusiastic about going inside, but at the same time, he seemed to know something was up, so he reluctantly crawled into the box, giving me a brief look that promised vengeance if this wasn’t the grand adventure he was hoping for.

I took the carrier, waiting while my master turned off all the lights and locked the door. Then we traipsed up the driveway to the house, going slowly to allow Bribie to keep up.

Inside, he chuffed, butting his head against my leg, then headed straight for the living room rug. I set the carrier down and opened the door, letting Mr Beans cautiously poke his head out. I wasn’t sure what to expect of the two of them together, but they were both likely too old to cause any serious trouble. Sure enough, Mr Beans stalked over to Bribie and gave his nose a sniff. Then he shook himself, meandered around to Bribie’s side, and collapsed against him in dramatic fashion, deciding to use the munsend’s leg as a pillow. Bribie, for his part, seemed to have no objection to Mr Beans’ chosen sleeping spot.

I stood and watched them for a moment, pleased that they both seemed to be comfortable. Then I turned around to head for the kitchen, to begin preparing dinner, only to find my master standing in the doorway, an equally fond expression on his face. Some sly instinct told me not to ask him what he thought of the two animals. He was making concessions here, breaking his own rules, and it wasn’t always wise to bring such things to a person’s attention. Instead, I said, “I found a recipe for quiche, if that’s okay for dinner?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” my master said, half his attention still on the animals. “Thank you. How about I make a salad to go with it?”

“That would be wonderful,” I replied. I waited for him to say something else as we headed for the kitchen, but the conversation died a sudden and unexpected death. It had struck me earlier in the day that my master was very comfortable talking to either Bo or Leesha. They’d talked about work at various points throughout the day, but also about a hiking trip Leesha had been on last year, and Bo’s cousin’s birthday party – an event which had apparently been quite a disaster – and during the hours we’d spent sweeping the straw out of the hayloft, I’d pondered exactly what that meant. He still mostly only spoke to me to give me instructions, but if it wasn’t anaversion to conversation in general, then that could only mean that something I was doing was the problem.

I’d been taught plenty of things about how to hold interesting conversations with the goal of seducing unsuspecting – or even entirely willing – customers. But seduction didn’t have to be the only goal of conversation.

“You mentioned at lunch that there were a few different options for the barn, depending on how it holds up structurally,” I began, with a deliberate air of nonchalance. “I was wondering which would be your favourite option – assuming the barn ends up being suitable.”

My master raised an eyebrow at me. It was the first time since I’d arrived here that I’d deliberately tried to start a conversation, and it seemed he didn’t quite know what to make of that. He focused on chopping some leafy greens for a moment, before pausing, contemplating the knife he was holding with a bit too much attention. “The easy answer would be to turn it into more animal housing. It doesn’t just have to be for farm animals. We could have a rehabilitation centre for injured wildlife. Get another couple of staff. It makes good use of the land without…” He stopped, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him bite his lip.

“Without what?” I prompted him gently. From his expression and his body language, this seemed to be a delicate topic for him. And though I wasn’t quite sure why he was so leery about it, I decided to tread carefully.

“Without having large numbers of people coming and going all the time. I wouldn’t be able to deal with constantly having to explain my face to strangers.” He resumed chopping the vegetables, and from the sharp taps of the knife, he seemed to be taking his frustration out on the chopping board.

I considered what to say next. My master had said that that would be ‘the easy option’. But that didn’t mean it was agoodoption.

“What about the university option?” I asked eventually. “The teachers would be the same people. You could get to know them-”

“But the students would be different all the time. Which would effectively mean I was barred from going on that part of the property. And the road runs straight past the thumbits’ barn, so there would always be people driving past…” His voice cracked on the last word, and I glanced over at him to see his jaw clenched, his fingers gripping the handle of the knife like he wanted to strangle it.

I put down the bowl of eggs I was beating and gently placed my hand over his. He deliberately released the knife, and I heard the rasp of his breath as he tried to calm himself. I wondered how many people had been complete assholes to him, for him to have ended up with such a strong aversion to meeting new people.

Without taking more than a moment to consider what I was doing, I tugged him around to face me. Touching my master without permission was one more item on my list of bad behaviours, but I wanted to comfort him, and I couldn’t think of any other possible way. He looked up at me, anger and distrust in his eyes, and I very deliberately placed my hand over his scarred cheek. “I don’t remember if I told you this before, but your scars don’t bother me in the slightest. I can’t change the rest of the world for you, but you’ll never have to worry about any judgement from me.” It was an absurd idea. Dimari did not judge their masters, only ever the other way around. But I said it anyway.

He stared up at me, undisguised longing in his eyes. And my damn cock took note of the closeness of his body andthe vulnerability in his eyes and immediately reacted, with predictable yet entirely inappropriate timing. I managed not to pull away immediately, instead letting my hand slowly stroke along his jawline until my fingers naturally parted from his skin, as if I’d been meaning to do that all along. Then I turned back to my task, picking up a block of cheese to begin grating it. My master hesitated a moment, then turned back to his own task.

A minute passed in silence, and I wondered how to restart the conversation. Perhaps this was why we’d failed at having one so far – because everything we had to talk about was too fragile, too heavy.

“I’d like to have a conservation lab in the barn,” my master said, out of the blue. “I studied ecology at university. I always thought it would lead me to a career in terraforming. A lot of people think it’s just plough up the ground, chuck in some seeds and fertiliser and away you go. But it’s a whole lot more complex than that. Some seeds need fungus to be able to survive. The plants need pollinators to produce seeds. Healthy soil needs bugs and bacteria. And it’s not like maintaining an ecosystem on a class one planet. If we mix bacteria from Earth with invertebrates from Waspalia, will they just kill each other? Or worse, will they mutate into some crazy super-species? Some of the best soil-forming beetles from Derenzin can’t survive the cold winters here. One terraforming project released earthworms which were all immediately eaten by the local lizard population. I don’t want to go and work on a major terraforming station, but if there was a modest lab, with a handful of regular staff, then they’d all have a chance to get used to me, and they’d still be doing important, interesting work in experimenting with insect combinations or the interactions between fungus and bacteria. That would be my ideal, I guess. A stable group of people so I don’t have to freak out all the time, and a project that’s going to improve the planet over the long term.” Heglanced up at me, resignation in his expression. “It’s a lot to ask for, I know.”

It wasn’t all that far from my own idealised situation. People I could get to know. Meaningful work. A master who enjoyed spending time with me.

I was halfway towards that now, with the animals to care for, and Bo and Leesha, and my new master letting me work with him. It was a vast improvement on my situation at the hotel-

I froze, as the full implications of that thought caught up with me. Being here was better than being at the hotel. Being with Cole was better than being with Mr Ronson. In the past day, I had beenenjoyingmyself. A lifewithoutmy true master had somehow become better than a life with him. And that defied every single rule, every law, every scrap of training I had ever been given.

I was a terrible dimari. And like a rush of ice water, the shame and guilt I’d been waiting for ever since my master had died suddenly hit me like a landslide.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

COLE

Xel was quiet through dinner. He seemed more pensive than he’d been when we’d been preparing the food, but I supposed I’d thrown a few thorny issues into the conversation, so it wasn’t a surprise he needed some time to process them. Whatever happened to the barn, it was going to mean changes to the sanctuary and more people around, and I wasn’t sure how stressful that would be for Xel.