He studied the basket, his eye shields doing that glowing dance.
But he didn’t say anything. Oh, blazes, had he hated the cookies? Was he attempting to find a polite way of saying he didn’t want any more?
She cleared her throat and shifted her weight. “If I were stranded somewhere, I would want someone to check on me. Especially someone who knows the area. I’m afraid your ship has landed close to wherepeople live. I’d never tell anyone about you, but others would be quick to call you the Devil if they found out about you.”
“Hostiles?” he asked.
“Quite possibly. Dorsent and even the surrounding countries aren’t exactly known for accepting things or people who are different from them. They hardly accept some of their own people, for that matter,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes at the truth of it.
He crossed his arms, muscles bulging as he did. “I’m not scared of your warriors. Let them come and meet my blades.”
Had he somehow become more fluent over night? His accent wasn’t nearly as harsh, and she was certain his replies were better formed. “They have muskets and rifles, and if ourwarriorswere to come for you, there would be a lot of them.” The entire surrounding male population would undoubtedly gather for the occasion.
His visor flashed red. “I have such things, too, Isobel Nott. I fear no being or weapon.” He snapped his teeth together in a way that made her think he would enjoy it if an army of men attacked him.
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Now, if you would be so kind, please take this as yet another offering of my goodwill. It has the same cookies as yesterday and some cheeses and dry meats.”
He took the basket hesitantly but then dipped his chin in acquiescence. The object was so bizarrely tiny in his huge hands that before she knew it, laughter bubbled out of her.
His head tilted to the side, but he remained silent.
“I’m so sorry. It’s simply astonishing that I’m standing on a ship that journeys through the stars, with a titan of a man who makes a large wicker basket look like a toy,” she said, waving to his person and the surrounding ship. “If it hadn’t been almost two full days since I’d hit my head, I would still think that maybe this was all some sortof dream.”
“I could think you a dream, too,” he rumbled, and she had the distinct feeling he was looking down the length of her. It sobered her immediately. She couldn’t see his eyes, but his gaze was an invisible touch whispering over her gown and flesh.
“I have so many questions,” she said to break the tension.
He made a throaty, thoughtful sound as he turned and began to walk away from her. It took three of his steps before she followed him.
“Like, are there women who can captain ships where you’re from?” she dared to ask. “Or pilot them, at least?”
The hallway they walked curved sharply, and he disappeared. When she caught up, the sight before her stopped her in her tracks. They were at the front of the ship now. Similar to the other vessel, the one that had melted, there was a panel full of levers and knobs and what looked like blackened mirrors.
“Why are there no lights like in the other ship?” she asked.
“You are a curious littlevixa. First, there are as many female captains as any other sex. And as far as my ship goes, it lost power when I crashed.”
“Lost power,” Isobel muttered, pressing some of the round nodes down. They made a satisfying clicking sound, and she spent several heartbeats depressing multiple of them. Then she stiffened, realizing that the sensory experience had taken her out of the present and that she was touching his things. “I’m sorry. For touching,” she said as, not for the first time, she wondered if one could die of embarrassment.
“You can touch whatever you want,” he said slowly. She swore that she could hear a smile in his words. “Unless it is powered. Then you’d have the ship loading weaponry and veering off course.”
A nervous laugh broke through her lips at the thought. “I’d very much like to see it all powered and lit up.”
He didn’t respond, the silence growing, but she couldn’t be deterred. Turning in a slow circle, she assessed the damage she could see. There was sharp debris jutting out every which way, cracks in the glass that showed the forest around them, and deep dents in the siding. Bizarre black ropes had erupted from a side recess, too, and judging by how he’d cleared the area, they must be important. Not to mention the missing lights from the panel before her.
“How will you mend it all?” she asked. The extent of the damage looked like it would be outside of the skill of any tradesman she knew. Could he fix it alone?
“Even the most inexperienced of Xaal should travel with tools and knowledge of their vessel,” he said.
“Xaal,” she mused, liking how the word slid off her tongue. It was so incredibly not of this world that its mere pronunciation fascinated her. “That’s what you are?”
He made that single nod again.
“What are Xaal like?” As soon as the question left her mouth, she realized how crass it was. “I apologize, that was a rude question.”
After a moment of silence, he said, “We are warriors. Fighting is in our blood and bones. We have strict codes of honor, and our clans’ hierarchies are based on strength and loyalty.”
His responses haddefinitelyimproved. “You are always battling, then?” She was exhausted merely from trying to act as society expected her to; she couldn’t imagine fighting every day.
