I wipe my face and sigh. “The sister is genetically weaker,” I tell him, as I have told him before. I turn to face him. “I sensed an opportunity, General. And so I did my job. And advised you.”
This is true, and Zethki knows this. He shrugs, looking at me curiously. This could mean that Zethki knows what is actually on my mind and flowing in mykryth, or merely that he wants me to believe that he does.
Then he smiles maniacally. “Of course. I trust your judgment, cousin. Of course. So tell me, then: how is she?”
How is she.
Since I placed my hand on her chest in the ballroom, and felt the pulsing of her human heart beneath her weak human skin, I have had much to think about on this subject. I don’t want to think or feel any of it; she’s not mine, she’s Zethki’s. Like any Kerz of his status, he will share his wife with Kerz he wishes to bond with, including me, but she will belong to him. He will try to breed her, and for us Kerz this will mean that he will select the most superior and loyal Kerz he can find to fill her with their seed. Naturally, we would never have come this far as a species if we did not know that only one male seeds a female human, but this is a finer biological point that our culture glosses over. Bloodlines travel through the mother in Kerz society, because unlike humans, Kerz females are impregnated by multiple seeds. Zethki intends to adhere to this ritual, because it’s a question of honor, code, and power for his offspring.
I shouldfeelnothing for her. But when she touches me, I’m electrified. A need to claim her as my own is building up inside of me. It’s a feeling, an instinct, and I can push it out of my thoughts. But it claims mykryth. So now it will be a battle of my mind over my blood: no one can know that I want her for my own.
It cannot be, for one.
And it makes me weak, for another.
And among the Kerz noble families, weakness very quickly turns to death.
“She is human,” I tell him. I’m a good liar; I would not be where I am if not for this skill. “She is healthy and young. She is all that she needs to be.”
“Hmm,” Zethki says, and I hear a dangerous note in his voice. He picks up a knife and plays with it. “But is she obedient, Rys, my cousin? Is she going to spread her legs and take the seed of our finest soldiers?”
I look at him. He is smiling, inspecting the knife. He appears absorbed by this activity, but I know that he’s alert to much more than the knife.
“Obedience is a trainable quality,” I say evenly. “And I’m your finest trainer.”
He laughs and replaces the knife. He seems satisfied with this answer, though if I had aprykhaof gold for every time I believed Zethki was satisfied with something and was not, I would be the wealthiest Kerz in the galaxy.
He shrugs. “I suppose if she cannot be trained,” he says cheerfully, “she can always be disposed of.”
“That would be unwise,” I say much too quickly. I study Zethki to measure his reaction, but he seems only mildly interested in what I have to say. “This is an alliance of great financial import.”
“Yes,” he murmurs, bored. Then he steps toward me, and his eyes narrow. “It is, isn’t it? But you know me well, cousin Rys. I don’t like…” he waves a hand in the air in circles, “…hassles. You have until our wedding night to make this Anya Mann into an obedient female, able to endure our mating rituals, capable of sitting quietly when her body is not being used for my pleasure or to breed the Kirigok line.” He cocks his head in one of his more dangerous gestures. “I do so hate to be disappointed.”
He grabs both of my shoulders fiercely and presses his claws into my skin. One of them draws blood, something I cannot be certain if it indicates a lack of control or an implicit threat. He smiles. “But this is why I love you, cousin. You are so dependable. You are a master!” He smiles broadly. “Let us dine. I’m going to intoxicate myself!”
I follow him into the corridor as he chatters away about all the wine he will consume. I know that Zethki is dangerous—he always is. But I don’t know, for the first time in many years, exactly in what manner, or how intensely.
CHAPTER7
Anya
“This is ludicrous,” I tell the girl who appeared in my bedroom minutes after the departure of Quietly Dangerous Guy, whose full name I have been told but can barely pronounce, let alone remember. Her name is Trasmea, and she looks like a human, except that she has patches of yellow-green skin on her forearms. There are small, narrow veins, barely noticeable at first glance, embedded in her olive-colored human skin. Her eyes are a human shade of green, but the reptilian oval of her pupils belies a Kerz ancestry. Her hair is long, straight, and black.
She looks at me with some discomfort. “But this is the dress chosen for you by Rysethk Kirigok?” she asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer. She puts her hand out to my forearm. “You must wear it.”
“It’s see-through,” I tell her plainly.
This doesn’t appear to make sense to her as an explanation of why I might not want to wear it to dinner.
“Let me comb your hair,” she tells me, turning me by the shoulders and pushing me toward a chair.
I let her guide me to the chair and to a seated position. My bottom is sore, and I wriggle a little to adjust myself on the cushioned chair. Thank gods the fabric of this ‘dress’ is about the softest thing I have ever felt in my life. “Can I at least wear some underwear?” I ask her.
I took a bath in the immense bathtub in my jungle-y bathroom, so at least I was able to get rid of the wetness between my legs. She put the dress on me, sliding it over my upraised arms and pulling it down. It’s a silky red transparent fabric, barely clinging to my shoulders, loose in the chest, cinched at the waist, and then flowing loosely over my hips and down to the floor. But it clings to me, and my nipples are hard from its delicate touch, and my breasts might as well not even be covered. If I move, the folds of the skirt shift and reveal my nakedness below.
Oh, yes. She also used some kind of laser device to remove my pubic hair. Kerz, evidently, are not fond of body hair on females, even if they are human. She told me, after the fact, that it’s a permanent removal.
Whatever. Fiona was trying to get me to do that for years, and secretly I wanted to, but resisted mainly just to vex her. And because there wasn’t any pressing need for it.
