The fi’len male on my side glares at me. Gra’eth hates me because I made a pass at his now mate—but is it my fault if he had not yet staked a claim? I might be too weak to admit that Marta is my mate, but I’ll be damned if I allow her near another unmated male—or anyone, for that matter. She is mine, and mine alone.
Humans, like Gra’eth’s mate Jessy, don’t seem to appreciate the bluntness that fi’len females do sexually. I’ve found that my confidence can blur the severity of these scars within my own species.
“King Ke’ain, Duke Raf’ere, and Hand Gra’eth.” The Andjin Emperor acknowledges us but doesn’t follow fi’len royal protocol. Although I assume he considers us peers and feels as though no respect is due.
“Emperor Sutokal,” Ke’ain says, matching his energy. My king turns to the emperor’s attendant, nodding his acknowledgement.
“King Ke’ain, we appreciate you meeting us on such short notice,” the attendant says, gesturing for us to sit.
“Of course. The fi’len want to uphold our peace treaty, we never wish to war with the Andjin people again. What can we do for you?” Ke’ain asks coolly.
Being the king suits him. He’s much more levelheaded than his late and greedy father. Ke’ain is thankfully here without his wife. He wed and mated a human woman named Opal, who is now my queen.She is abrasive at the best of times, although I’d never tell Ke’ain that.
Her belly is swollen with the heir to the throne. Despite her protesting, Ke’ain had convinced her to commit to the fi’len nesting period. She’s not to leave the palace until she gives birth but is waited on hand and foot. I know it must pain him to be away from her, but he’s playing it cool.
I know because I have a mate and every time I close my eyes, all I see is her face.
Despite the fact she destroyed a priceless heirloom, I still can’t bring myself to stay angry with her.
“We wish to discuss the human women,” the emperor says plainly.
“What have we to discuss about my wife’s people?” Ke’ain is already feeling defensive about his question.
I admit that I am too. What do the Andjin need with the humans? The Andjin are a very insular community. We assumed that it would be a matter of great importance if they were even leaving the Korlyan Moon to begin with.
“A Deenz ship dumped cyropods and security bubbles into our seas not long ago—”
“We’d be happy to let them come to Sontafrul 6 as refugees,” Ke’ain interrupts.
“Yes, we’re structuring many programs to help acclimate the women to how the rest of the universe operates. It’s not an easy task, but we’re building the framework to facilitate former bubble dancer’s introduction into our society,” Gra’eth adds.
“You misunderstand me,” the emperor continues. “We don’t wish to bring the humans to your planet—we want you to send them to ours.” He crosses his arms.
“Why would we send humans to the Korlyan Moon?” I ask.
“Like I said, we already have a few human women that have been integrated into our society.”
“What do you mean, integrated?” The corner of Gra’eth’s mouth ticks upward.
“I mean, human women have been mated to Andjin citizens. Our gender disparity threatens the continuation of our species. Our mating rite, the great proving, grows smaller each year as fewer and fewer females are born,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Did you…force them?” Ke’ain asks, his jaw clenched.
“Of course not.” The emperor pulls back his lips in a sneer. “Might I remind you that ‘The Fi’len Butcher’ sits to your right? We are not the monsters here. We pride ourselves on a peaceful existence and would never harm a female.” The emperor inclines his head to me.
It’s me, I’m their butcher. The Andjin have twisted the fight for my life into propaganda—I want to laugh and tell him how wrong he is. But if they want to see me as their butcher, then let them.
“No human women will be sent to the Korlyan Moon, I can assure you of that.” I cross my arms and lean further back into my chair.
“For the first time, I think I’m going to agree with Duke Raf’ere,” Gra’eth says incredulously. “Did you think we would traffic women to your planet as mates?”
The emperor slides a hand over his face, obviously frustrated at the direction of the conversation.
“We won’t force anyone to go, but we can make the women at the Earth Two dormitories aware of their options,” Ke’ain, ever the mediator, finally weighs in. “If the women want to go to the Korlyan Moon, it is their own decision.”
“No,” I say simply.
“No?” Ke’ain raises his brows. “I remind you of your station, dear cousin—I am the King.”
