Ouch.
She didn't know how to respond to that. Part of her appreciated the compliment, but another part resented it. As if looking modern and American was somehow better than looking like herself. As if the gowns she'd worn for decades were lesser than these stiff, uncomfortable pants.
"Attention, everyone." Yamanu's voice carried from a few rows up. Tula turned to see the Guardian standing in the aisle, one hand braced against the overhead compartment for balance. "Iknow this is all very new and probably overwhelming, so let me explain what to expect. We're looking at approximately twenty-six hours of flight time to Los Angeles. We'll stop in Tokyo to refuel, but we are not getting off. We are staying on the plane."
Twenty-six hours. Dear Fates, how was she going to survive that?
"The good news is that this gives Amanda plenty of time to organize a proper wardrobe for all of you," Yamanu continued. "By the time we land in the village, you'll have everything you need for a few days. Once you are home, you can order things for yourself, but at least you will be covered until those items arrive."
He'd said 'home,' and Tula tried to internalize that but failed. How could she think of a place she'd never seen before as home?
Because Wonder was there, and home was not a place but rather a feeling.
Across the aisle, Tamira leaned forward. "How are we going to pay for these things?"
"Don't worry about it. The Clan Mother has you covered. You will all get a spending allowance. Housing and utilities are free in the village."
Sarah groaned from a few rows back. "I hate pants. I love my gowns. They're comfortable. Silk is breathable and feels good against the skin. Does no one make them in America?"
Yamanu, who seemed to have infinite patience, flashed her a smile. "Long silk gowns are the Clan Mother's favorite style, and she has a seamstress who produces them for her. She would be happy to provide the woman with more orders."
"We should adapt to modern times," Liliat said. "Get used to wearing pants. We've lived like exhibits in a museum for long enough."
"But gowns are so comfortable and practical," Sarah protested. "Why fix something that's not broken?"
The conversation continued, but Tula tuned them out, her mind drifting to something far more pressing than wardrobe choices.
She needed to talk to Tony. She had to explain that what they'd had in the harem couldn't continue now that they were free. But how to do it without crushing him?
He loved her, in his own selfish way, and she was about to hurt him.
"You okay?" Tony asked, probably noticing the deep crease in her forehead. "You're not going to be sick, are you? There are bags in the seat pocket if you need them."
"I'm not nauseous." Well, maybe she was, but not for the reason he thought she was. Guilt was souring her stomach. "I'm just thinking about the future."
"About the baby?" His hand moved to rest lightly on her stomach, where their child grew. "We should talk about names. I was thinking?—"
"Not now." She moved his hand away. "I'm not feeling so great."
Something in her tone must have warned him because his expression grew wary. "Okay. Later then."
When the plane leveled off, the seatbelt sign dinged off, and Yamanu made his way down the aisle offering drinks from the bar, praising the fully stocked cabinet of alcohol and mixers.Tony immediately requested whiskey, accepting the glass with gratitude.
Tula wished she could drink too. Wished she could have something to dull the sharp edges of anxiety and guilt. But she didn't know if alcohol was safe for the baby. It wasn't safe for human babies, and although she was immortal, the baby growing inside of her was human, and he would remain that way until puberty, when he would be induced by another immortal.
Her body processed alcohol rapidly, so it was most likely that none would reach the baby, but she wasn't taking any chances.
"Sure you don't want anything?" Tony asked, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Water? Juice?"
"Water would be good. Actually, can you mix some juice with water?"
"Coming up." He set his drink on the table and got up.
A moment later, he returned from the galley with a paper cup of cranberry juice mixed with water.
"Thank you." She accepted the cup. "This is perfect. Just what I wanted. Tart and sweet, but not too much."
Tony grinned. "I know what you like, sweetheart. Always."
