Isobel looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Your scent,” he said again, slower, as if she were having trouble understanding his pronunciation. “Part of it is this flower.”
“You can smell me?” Isobel asked, aghast. They hadn’t beenthatclose. She sniffed surreptitiously at herself.
“Xaal have heightened senses. It makes us better hunters and warriors. Perhaps that is different than humans,” he said, tilting his head down to meet her gaze.
“Definitely,” she breathed. She couldn’t smell him after all.
Ved made a guttural noise, and Isobel pressed her lips together to stop herself from asking what it meant.
Instead, she said, “We can continue our stroll through if you like.”
He made a gesture as if he would follow her, and she stepped off.
They wandered through the lavender. Sometimes, he would take her arm in his, resting her hand on his forearm, and other times, hewould watch as she gesticulated and breathlessly told him facts about the plant. Though she eventually apologized for her babbling and excitement, he continued to press her for more.
“I mustn’t go on. I know it must be boring to you, and I have just about reached my depth of knowledge anyway.” That wasn’t necessarily true, but he needn’t know that.
“It pleases me when you speak, Isobel Nott.”
She refused to blush but dipped her chin down and looked away. Not a single soul had ever said such a thing to her. She was used to receiving side glances full of warning and agitation for either speaking at length or not enough. “Tell me more about you instead,” she requested. “I fear I have spoken so much, I’ll soon lose my voice.” Another small lie.
“What would you like to know?”
Everything.“The other evening, you mentioned something called a neurolink. What is it?”
“He is called Exxo. He is my artificial intelligence system. With his aid, I can speak to you in your language. He also helps with repairs and diagnostics on the ship and can access depths of knowledge I wouldn’t be able to on my own.”
“But where is he?” she asked.
“He has no body. He’s a system that works internally with my helmet and ship. We are connected.”
“I see,” she murmured, then looked up at him hopefully. “Can I speak to him?”
“No,” Ved bit out.
Oh. But she wouldn’t be deterred by one rejection. “What about your family? Tell me of them, if you will.”
He was silent for a long time, but she found herself becoming more patient as he formulated his responses. Finally, he said, “Ourparents are part of the clan, but not the whole of it. In truth, we belong to each other. The clan is our mother, combat our father. We are taken from our birth Xaal at a young age to begin our training. When deemed ready, we are sent out on the Great Hunt to earn our place in the clan. Our world is built by those who not only survive butthrivedespite whatever conditions they’re in and the challenges they face. If we can’t defend ourselves, can’t bring honor to ourselves and the clan, then we are unworthy to return to it anyway.”
Isobel wanted to say how strange his world was but tucked her lips between her teeth instead. She imagined that her life seemed just as bizarre to him. After all, here, a woman couldn’t even read romance books without being deemed a harlot. “You have no siblings?”
She could have sworn he tensed at the question. “There were those who shared the same birth Xaal as me, yes. But they were never brothers of mine.”
Isobel couldn’t imagine disliking Henry so much that she no longer referred to him as her brother. They had their differences, but at the end of the day, she loved him fiercely. “I’m sorry. That must have been difficult. Are they in your same clan?”
“No. They are all dead.” Even though he wasn’t speaking in his native tongue, Isobel could feel the intricacy of emotions in those four words. Though sadness was not one of them.
Her intuition stopped her from prying further. So, instead, she changed the subject altogether. “What about your women? I know you said they can captain ships, but what else can they do?”
Ved tilted his head, perhaps in bemusement. “They are Xaal. They do as we all do—there is no difference.”
“They’re warriors? Hunters? Can they read whatever they want? Do they have to marry by a certain age or otherwise be looked at as a scourge on society?”
Was that a chuckle that came from him? “If they want a partner, they can approach one. There is no timeframe. Though it is seen as honorable to bolster the clan’s strength, it isn’t forced. We must do many things, but that isn’t one of them. As for stories, if they enjoy reading, they read. If they enjoy mining, they mine. But first and foremost, we are warriors.”
“So, if I were a Xaal woman, I’d get to”—she gestured to his person—“fly to planets far away, and I wouldn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to? I’d get to wear armor instead of dresses if I wanted?”
