A grin exploded across her face. “It's a good story, right? I like the part where I eat anyone unlucky enough to get too close to my cage at night.” She gave an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. “That line didn't work when we visited Hammarish. They eat their dead. The audience just thought I was being too eager.”
Miran barked out a laugh, unable to hold it back. He liked this open version of Nova. “You’re very athletic. Some of the moves you did in the cage were intense.”
“My acts have always been really physical,” she said, then wiggled a little under him. “This floor is kinda hard and cold, could we switch positions? Maybe we could even sit on the seats like civilized creatures?
“I’d make you promise to behave, but I know that would be pointless,” Miran grumbled as he moved to the side.
“Probably,” she agreed with a shrug. “Isn’t it in all our natures to seek survival?”
He crouched on the floor next to her, ready to grab her if she tried to move away from him. “In time, you’ll realize that we mean you no harm. Your life with us will be full of joy.”
She rolled her eyes, an expression he’d seen Deena do whenever she was annoyed. “Sure, I totally believe you.”
Sitting up, she rolled her neck and shoulders, as if testing for injury. He’d pulled her pretty hard onto the floor. Had her head hit the seat on the way down? Guilt hit him hard.
“Do you need medical care?” he asked as she drew her legs up to stand.
“No I—ouch!” she cried out and fell back to the floor, clutching her ankle. “Damn, I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“You missed the seat,” he said even as he reached for the ankle she was clutching. He was relieved to realize it wasn’t the one he’d grabbed so she must’ve hurt herself earlier.
She glared at him. “Thanks for pointing that out, I hadn’t noticed.”
Pulling up the gauzy fabric of the voluminous Fielden garb, Miran hissed at the damage. The ankle was swollen to at least twice its size, and dark bruises were forming.
“That's not good.”
Her words were calm and detached, but when he looked up, she was a little pale, and a fine sweat had broken out across her forehead.
“What happened here?” he asked.
“It got caught in the door,” she said, staring at the joint.
“This is a serious injury,” he agreed. “It’s going to require medical care.”
“I already figured that out,” she grumbled. “Damn, this is going to mess up my escape when we reach the planet.”
Miran huffed out an annoyed breath. “There won’t be any more escaping.”
Standing up, he leaned over and gathered her in his arms and lifted her off the floor. She let out a startled gasp and grabbed at his armor.
“Don’t drop me!”
“Is this the same female that climbed to the top of a cage and got herself into a vent in the ceiling of a theatre?” he asked, hoping to distract her.
“It’s one thing for me to do the high-flying stuff when I know my skills and abilities. It's a whole other thing to trust someone else not to drop me!”
“I’d never drop you,” he said, cradling her against his chest. He sat down, settling her on his lap. He was careful to keep the ankle from touching anything. The bag that was slung over her shoulder flopped down onto the seat next to them.
She was rigid in his lap, her expression closed off and her jaw clenched. She must be in a great deal of pain. He stroked her back and recited the blessing his mother would say when he wasn’t feeling well. It was in Hissa but knowing the words was important. His mother might’ve been a renowned researcher, but she still believed in the power of the moons.
They all did.
“What are you doing?” she asked after a few moments.
“I'm soothing you,” he said. “I have nothing to give you for the pain at the moment, but I'll take you to a medic when we get to the planet’s surface.”
“Oh, um, thank you.”
