Gil sent Bran a speaking glance.We will help him endure.
“What are your favorite fireworks, Ursula?” Bran asked to distract her from worry. Zul sent a whisper of gratitude across their bond. He did not wish to appear weak in front of their mate. Bran responded directly to him, mind to mind.Soon you will understand she does not always need you to be strong. She will appreciate your vulnerability. You can trust her to protect you.
Protect me? How could such a delicate female protect me?
Bran did not answer. Zul would learn soon enough.
“I’ve always liked the ones with the willow effect,” Ursula answered the question. She took a sip and said nothing about knowing he was distracting her. Instead, she let it slide, appreciating his care for both her feelings and Zul’s.
“What are the ‘willow’ ones?” Gil asked.
She answered, “The willow fireworks create big stars with the arms falling gracefully like a willow tree’s branches.” At their blank expressions, she added, “You’ll have to look it up. I’m not exactly sure how to explain a willow tree to you guys.”
“This is a type of tree found on Earth?” Zul murmured.
Ursula nodded. “Fireworks have been around on Earth for over a thousand years in a country called China. Humans haven’t had any communication with alien civilizations until recently, so names for things refer to what’s either on Earth or what we can see from Earth’s surface.”
“Makes sense,” Zul said with a nod.
Chapter 20
Ursula met with her committee of Urib brides. Of the dozen females, only one was actually Urib. The others including herself were imports from biologically compatible species. Of the biologically compatible species, all had been altered at the genetic level the same as Ursula. The very paucity of female Urib presence only underscored the planet’s dire need for fertile brides.
The other females, who eschewed the term “women” as a human-centric word, discussed final arrangements and updates with polite enthusiasm. Each of them was cognizant that their continued participation depended greatly upon their seemly behavior and their mates’ permission. Thus far, none of the males mated to the women had protested or objected to such an extent that they’d withdrawn permission. Cynically, Ursula figured they prized the privileged association with the Fangrys Prima and Triad over any semblance of impropriety. She did what she could to discreetly reward such self-serving tolerance in the hope that her beneficence would encourage more allowances for the females. In this quietly subversive manner, she stoked her conspirators’ desire for greater autonomy in their lives and undermined their mates’ control.
While she worked on the Halloween festival, she noticed the frequent arrival and departure of visitors to whom Bran,Gil, and Zul did not introduce her. When she asked about them, they reassured her that all was well and not to worry. To be fair, those visitors often stayed for a short time, less than the length of a morning or afternoon. However, her mates—the one not hovering in attendance as her escort on any given day—closeted themselves in the library for those weighty discussions to which she was not privy.
Ursula didn’t think she’d mind that they did not involve her in those meetings or even condescend to discuss what they talked about, except that they did question her about her meetings with her festival committee and required that she divulge all details to them.
It all seemed a bit lopsided and unfair to her.
“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” she asked Gil as they lay on his bed, pleasantly exhausted from a vigorous bout of one-on-one lovemaking, thinking he might be the weak link in the united wall of silence her mates presented.
“It has nothing to do with you,elka’adir,” he reassured her and stroked her hair. “Do not worry?—”
“If you tell me not to worry my pretty little head over it, I’ll throttle you,” she warned, her voice growling.
He chuckled because her threat had no teeth. “My fierce little bride.”
“So, tell me, Gil. What would my puny female mind not understand?”
He refrained from wincing at her sarcastic tone. “It is Urib politics, my sweet.”
Ursula grimaced. “Politics? Ugh.”
He chuckled again. “Exactly.”
Her eyes narrowed, because that was just too easy. She traced invisible patterns on his muscled chest with a solitary fingertip. His pectoral muscle contracted beneath her touch. “I’m getting an interesting education in local politics with my festival.”
Gil lay still, knowing that his beloved mate was homing in for the kill shot. However, he kept his voice relaxed and conversational: “I have noticed. You’re doing well dealing with themayor, the sheriff, and the village council, much better than when you first started this project.”
“Thank you.” Although his praise warmed her heart, Ursula did not let it deter her. “Anyway, what I’m learning at the local level makes me curious as to how things are done at the national level.”
He rolled over to his side to face her and cupped one of her breasts. He used his thumb to rub gentle circles around her nipple which beaded into a tight point. “It will be many, many years—likely centuries, if ever—before the Urib government accepts female counselors. We cannot risk our brides in such a manner.”
She frowned. “Oh, yes, I’d forgotten: we’re useful as breeding stock, but not for much else.”
It was Gil’s turn to frown. “Now you know that isn’t true. You are beloved by us. We see you as much more than merely a fertile womb.”
