I’ve been combative, not that my aggression isn’t warranted. Maybe if I don’t try to assault him every chance I get, convincing him to let me go would be easier.
I sigh, realizing what a steep hill that will be to climb. The duke’s stubbornness seems only akin to my own.
I decide I do need that shower I was promised. Maybe the warm water can help wash away my anxiety. A clear head would do me good.
Wrapping my fingers around the cornicello, I clutch it at my chest.Please let luck be on my side.
CHAPTER10
?HE KNOWS?
?RA’FERE
Jens’i closesthe door softly behind him. There’s no yelling or pounding of fists as he does. I’ve moved to sitting on the sofa and raise my eyebrows to him.
“I fear you’ve made quite a terrible first impression, Your Grace,” he says, setting the half empty bottle of thru’ik and silky cravat onto the sitting table in front of me.
“Well, that’s f’teeing obvious,” I sigh. “How is she?”
“Afraid, anxious, angry—your pick.” Although he rarely sits while on the clock, the older fi’len male takes a seat in the chair next to the one where Marta sat. “You should let her go.” His voice is filled with pity. For me or for Marta’s situation, I’m unsure.
“Not an option.”
“Why is that, Your Grace?” He seems tired of my non answers. I’ve never truly confided in anyone but Jens’i—it must feel strange for me to keep secrets from him. “Is it possible that you suffer the same affliction as his royal highness, Ke’ain, and his hand, Gra’eth? I mean you yourself support our human queen—do you not?”
He knows.The fact that he knows leaves me feeling like a helpless child. If I can’t even keep this situation under control at home, how can I ever keep it together anywhere else?
“The goddess wouldn’t curse me with a human mate,” I sigh. “What kind of life could a terrestrial race have under the waves? It would undermine everything I’ve fought for, for our people’s right to exist in their natural habitats.”
He pulls his mouth into a tight line. I don’t think I've convinced him of the lie I keep saying aloud. I know the truth, I know what Marta really is.
“Well, seeing as she’s just left cryosleep, I offered her use of your shower unit. Coming out of cryosleep can be incredibly taxing on the nervous system…she still seems to be experiencing mood swings. I think it’s best if we allow her some time to relax. Do you have any issues with this?”
“It won’t hurt anything to allow her time to clean herself up,” I nod.
“A step in the right direction for Marta to see how hospitable the reefs can be, perchance? Something to improve her spirits and give you a chance to convince her it’s not so terrible here.”
“I haven’t harmed her—I could have left her on that ship.”
“Yes, you could have. But you didn’t, and now we have a crying human female locked in your closet.” His tone is on the edge of condescension.
“Wait, she’s crying? I thought she was angry.” The shift in her emotions is unsettling.
“She can be both at once, and yes, she’s crying.”
My fingers dig into the arm of the sofa. I’m angry, at myself, at how I’ve handled this, and most of all at the goddess for choosing her.
The mate bond tugs at my mind. It tells me I can’t keep her captive forever. That no matter how strong she thinks she is, a life with me, her monster, might be worse than the Deenz.
But I push those feelings down into the box inside my chest. I lock it away with the memories of Yar’oh and of my life before the war. If I don’t accept her as my mate, or worse yet, if she refuses me, I’ll truly be alone. I won’t be able to find any joy in pleasuring females…I won’t have my control. I’ll be a broken hull of a male.
It’s all her fault.
Yet when she knocks at the door, a soft and steady rhythm—nothing like the frantic pounding of before—I can’t help but hold my breath.
Her curly black hair is wild, strands clinging to the wetness on her cheeks. Her eyes are tired, swollen and red from crying. When she steps from the closet, she’s wearing my ceremonial robe and its matching undershirt. The beaded robe trails behind her, as if she’s walking through the temple’s cavern. Both pieces of clothing are the deep green that signals the royalty of my breeding, the beading on the shoulders made from precious alloys derived from the walls of our sacred caverns.
Marta looks stunning in green—something out of a dream.
