Addilli frowned. “That sounds very selfish.”
With a sigh, Ursula nodded. “It was. Itis. When my parents were young, divorce was still somewhat scandalous. When I was young, it was common. Even having and raising children without being married was common and accepted. The social stigma had disappeared.”
“That does not sound good for the stability of human society.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not. By the time I was sent to Uribern, my homeland was starting to finally figure that out. It took unprovoked riots and the murder of a good man to force us to examine our culture’s moral decay.”
Addilli patted her knee. “Then I am doubly glad you have come to Uribern where you can live protected in a stable society.”
Ursula glanced through the open doorway where Gil lurked just beyond. “I’m safer, yes, but stifled.”
The other female gave her a sharp glance. “Are you trulystifled, Prima? Or do you tell yourself that to justify stoking your anger and resentment?”
Addilli’s insight made Ursula pause to think. She didn’t have an answer because she suspected that the other female might very well be correct. Her freedoms of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness had driven her to answer a vague employment advertisement out of desperation. She’d had no real safety net, no one looking out for her welfare—and now she had an abundance of such tender loving care directed at her. She wondered what freedoms she had truly lost, since she had to be honest with herself in admitting she hadn’t taken advantage of many of the freedoms available to her when she lived on Earth. She’d only tried to fulfill the obligations of a responsible adult living on her own.Perhaps I should have at least voted in the presidential election.
“You’re very perceptive,” she murmured.
Addilli gave her a typically Urib close-mouthed smile then said, “As you like to say, I’m not just another pretty face.”
Chapter 21
The morning before the festival and her body still thrumming from thorough ravishment by her three mates, Ursula greeted her former colleague and good friend, Carmen, with a cry of joy and a hug. Her three mates lingered a few steps behind with Crow bouncing on his toes. Carmen’s own triad waited a few steps behind her with their two sons who eager to play with Crow. The warrior males exchanged murmurs of formal greeting and glances of indulgent amusement at their mates’ antics.
“You boys do whatever it is you plan on doing,” Ursula said with a wave of dismissal at their mates. She ignored Zul’s snort and continued, “Crow, you and Carmen’s boys mind Suvesh. Auntie Carmen and I are going to catch up.”
The two women walked off, arm in arm, toward the drawing room Ursula preferred to use when meeting with friends and acquaintances. It was furnished with comfortable seating and decorated in soothing pastels. Small tables bore smaller trays of sweetmeats and other tiny confections ladies could neatly pop into their mouths. Tall windows let in plenty of natural light despite that day’s unusual drizzle.
“I love that you call me auntie. It makes me feel like I have family here.” Carmen took off her damp wrap and handed it to a waiting castratus. “The desert will really bloomafter this.”
Two more castrati stationed themselves in the room, ready to serve their mistress and her most honored guest.
“I know. It’ll be gorgeous! Would you like lemonade orti’chal?”
Carmen eyed the small, sugar-coated balls that reminded her of almond puffs. “Lemonade, please. Were you able to procure lemon trees for your greenhouse?”
“I was!”
One of the two castrati poured Carmen a glass of lemonade and handed it to her. The other castratus, seeing the direction of her gaze, began filling a small plate with her favorite treats.
“Ti’chal, please.”
The castratus poured Ursula a cup of the fragrant hot beverage. She smiled and glanced out the nearest window. “I love how everything just bursts into bloom after a rain. The world will smell like nutmeg when the firethorn blooms—heavenly!”
Carmen seated herself, and the castratus set her plate on the small table beside her. “And it’s just in time for your festival.”
“It is.” Ursula seated herself opposite her friend. “So, which of your men is going to be your partner dancing the flamenco?”
Carmen grinned. “Pako’s going to play the guitar, can you imagine it?”
Ursula snickered, trying and unable to imagine the hulking male strumming guitar strings without snapping them with his claws. “And?”
“Yiis will be mycantante, my singer. You’ll be surprised, but he has a really wonderful voice.”
“It’s a shame Urib culture discourages artistic pursuits among males,” Ursula commented.
“It is. I had tocryto get them to agree to accompany me.”
“You little manipulator,” Ursula wheezed through her giggles.
