Her gaze snapped to him. “Do I require reminding that you have the attention of a powerful god?”
“I give credit to my goddess for her powerful works,” Regi said, mimicking the phrase his mother had so often used to explain why she had to attend some birth to honor Otutha.
She pressed her lips together. Then her gaze slid to Dante. “Provide a formal introduction,” she ordered.
Regi could not. He did not know the names of Dante’s parents or what gods they might have worshipped, so he could only offer a far more informal, “Minauit a’Othutha, this is Dante a’Divashi.”
The tightness in his mother’s face suggested that she disapproved.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” said Dante with a quick touch to his forehead.
“‘Maaam’. I do not recognize maaam. What is this word?”
Dante blinked, the longer fur along his eyelids fluttering for a moment. “Um, ma’am is a term of respect.”
“For whom? Who would you refer to as ma’am?”
“Older women.” Dante glanced over to Regi, concern in his gaze.
Before Regi could explain the problem, his mother’s hackles were raised. “So, you have demoted me from an exalted of Otutha and elder of the temple to the status of a common woman? Is that how Regi a’Divashi has encouraged you to address me?” She strode toward the exit, her steps jarring enough to make the tails of her shirt twist and jerk.
Dante chased after her. “I mean no disrespect—”
“I feel the disrespect regardless.”
They had already left the private space, but Regi didn’t wish to have this conversation in front of petitioners on their knees in front of niches as they left offerings for Rvion in the hopes of easing nightmares.
He darted around her and stopped. “Mother, he is from another world and another culture. Allowances must be made.”
She considered Dante with a coldness in her gaze he hadn’t expected. His mother was difficult, but she had never looked on another with disdain. Perhaps more than her gray hair had changed. “He is on a Kowri world speaking to a Kowri exalted. Any allowances should be made in our favor, not the favor of an outsider.” She took a deep breath. “I will respect his position in the temple because Divashi herself has made her attention known and even Retav is moving, but I will not be addressed as ‘ma’am.’ I will not endure the dishonor, or did you believe that having given birth to you I would support any madness you proposed?” She turned her ire on Regi.
“I assumed that you would put the temple and your goddess first and that I would never be a priority.” Regi spotted his fathers walking toward them. Pertin and Rel appeared older as well, although neither was as gray as his mother. Still, age had caught up with them. Pertin had lost some of the muscle that had made him such an imposing figure in Regi’s youth. Where Rel’s hands had once danced over controls with the same confidence as Ter’s, he appeared nervous and his hands fluttered until Pertin caught one and held it tightly as they strode down the hallway and through arches heavy with live vines.
Regi felt an irrational frustration bloom in his chest. They had aged; no doubt being put second in their own marriage had contributed to that. He turned back to his mother. “I would not expect you to value me any more than I would expect you to prioritize your husbands.”
Her ears flattened and Dante took a quick step backward.
“Regi a’Poque de Minait,” Rel snapped with disapproval sharp enough to cut. He pulled his hand free from his husband and moved to his wife’s side.
Guilt and frustration vied in Regi’s chest. Frustration won. “Of course you will side with her, no matter that her family will never mean as much as her precious temple,” Regi said. He strained to keep his own ears forward.
“We are all emotional and should avoid causing more offense,” said Pertin loudly. “And perhaps we can avoid offending Divashi, who has claimed Regi in a way that Poque never did,” he said as he rested a hand on his husband’s shoulder. “Greetings, Dante a’Divashi. I am pleased to meet you. I am Pertin a’Qis and this is Rel a’Mufvu. I see you have met our wife and perhaps seen how much Regi takes after his mother.”
Regi huffed. He was nothing like his mother. Were Divashi to offer him a choice between service to her will or saving his crew, he would choose his crew. The gods were capricious and while they improved the lives of Kowri as a whole, he had no illusion that they would care for his individual happiness or the safety of the people he cared for.
“Nice to meet you,” Dante said. He’d taken yet another step backward. “I should go find Vk. She should have our pebafri out front.”
“Do you ride?” Pertin asked. “I find the animals difficult to manage.”
Dante looked about as though expecting an ambush. “I grew up riding horses, which are a bit like pebafri in that they need a strong hand to manage them. I’ll see you out front,” Dante told Regi before hurrying away. His hips were remarkably flexible and Regi was fascinated by the posterior view of a fleeing Dante.
Once Dante had disappeared around a bend in the corridor, Regi narrowed his eyes at his mother. “He attempted to show you respect.”
“Attempting a task is not the same as succeeding at it. It is enough that I am considering the plight of this dangerous engineer.”
“Ter is not dangerous, only frustrated with the ineptitude of others.”
“Yet he refuses to accept the interference of the gods, which is negligent and ignorant,” she snapped.
