“I’ll do it,” Idris announced, reaching for his knife.
While they didn’t have beamblades like humans, their weapons were made from a strong combination of rare metal, making them just as deadly.
Using one hand, he pulled off both of his boots and tossed them to the side, placing Aydin’s bare five-toed feet carefully on the ground. Holding the fabric with his spare hand, he slowly cut along both legs to his juncture before traveling up along the middle of his chest.
His blade nicked something midway, making him halt his process to see what caught it. Idris leaned over and inspected what was under the slit fabric while Qatszo took the opportunity to peel off the black pants. His finger found a tight binding made from hard material.
Why would Aydin need to bind his chest? Did I injure him during our sparring match last night and didn’t realize it? Or was this a predetermined health issue?
Gripping the fabric hard, he pulled it away from Aydin’s body and sliced through it. Luckily, there wasn’t much more to cut through since the beamblade had burned through the rest.
Sheathing his knife, he peeled apart Aydin’s top, revealing the bare chest underneath. Idris cocked his head to the side and peered at the two raised mounds in confusion.
“Prince?”
“Yes, Doctor Qatszo?”
“You said Aydin is male?”
“Correct.” Idris shot a glance at the doctor and noticed he had placed one of his shoulder scarfs across the apex of Aydin’s legs. “Is there a problem?”
“Only that he is really a she.”
“If this isn’t Aydin . . . is this his twin sister?” Erlyn murmured.
Those words echoed through him.
It all made sense—the familiarity, the mediocre diplomatic skill, and how his instincts reacted to her when they sparred. It was as if his body had known his opponent was indeed a female as he subconsciously engaged in an ancient courting battle.
All this time, he believed he was attracted to a male.
Idris studied her face, finding the similarities to his favorite fighter pilot. “Are you certain?” he asked, even though deep down, he already knew the answer.
“I am fairly positive I could prove it,” Erlyn replied confidently. “But, I will need to bring up the recorded videos taken from your starstorm.”
“It doesn’t matter if this human is a male or female, if they are going to be my patient, I am going to need to take them to the infirmary,” Qatszo insisted. “My medpen reports she is already stabilized, but I will need to supervise her progress.”
Idris pulled his gaze away from the unconscious body and faced the doctor. Something about what he said unsettled him, and he didn’t know why.
“Why do you need my permission?”
Qatszo raised an eyebrow. “She is one of them—an enemy. I don’t have to do a thing if I don’t want to.”
Idris snapped his tail, ignoring the sudden throbbing from his bare spots, where he had taken his secondary scales.
“You. Will. Care. For. Her,” he snarled, his voice echoing off of the room’s walls.
Qatszo flinched as if he had hit him. “We don’t have any knowledge about their anatomy. How am I supposed to make sure she fully recovers?”
“Look around you.” Idris opened his arms, gesturing to the five dead humans scattered on the floor. “Use their bodies for science. They don’t deserve a proper funeral, and I refuse to send them back with her.”
“Wait.” Erlyn glanced up from his tablet. “You are going to send her away?”
“Shouldn’t we keep her as a prisoner of war?” Raizxl asked.
“She can’t remain here, not after she falsified who she was—no matter the reasons.” Idris scanned her body. His golden scales shimmered brightly on the flaming red skin. “A life for a life. She saved mine, so I will spare hers and allow her safe passage home.”
* * *
