“Garbage?” He sounded offended again. Good goofy golly. I was probably going to be annoying this guy left and right at this rate. “Not garbage,” he said sternly, almost as if in reprimand. Then, just a little softer, like the edge of hard metal wrapped carefully in flimsy fabric, he said, “Just different.”
“I was kidding. Well, mostly,” I replied. “We really can’t see that well in the dark.”
He turned away from me then, seeming to cast his invisible gaze over the darkened woods around us. The scene was one of contrasts – bright, reflective snow in the clearing and bordering trees turned black by night. Shadow pooled like some solid substance of its own, viscous enough to sink your fingers into.
I wondered if he was trying to see what I saw. Which wasn’t much beyond this clearing and the first layer of trees that surrounded it.
Was he waiting for me to say something? I couldn’t be sure. What I was sure of, though, was the numbness currently affecting my butt cheeks. This bench was frigid, the ruthless cold seeping through the back of my coat and my pants. I had a good amount of padding back there, some extra insulation to work with, if you will. But even that was not enough. My poor, beautiful butt felt like it was going to fall right off at this rate.
It really was an incredible ass. I would hate to lose it like this.
While Warden Hallum did his weird silent forest staring thing, I bunched up the shirt he gave me and shoved it under my butt. The movement seemed to draw his attention back to the wagon. His head swivelled to me, sans hat. Too busy creating my protective-bum-layer, I hadn’t even noticed him take it off. It now dangled from the claws of his left hand
“There,” I said, beaming and tightening my jaw to keep my teeth from clattering together. “Much better!”
“Are you speaking of my face without the hat’s shadow?” he asked. “Or the fact that you’ve fashioned my shirt into some sort of cushion for your backside?”
“Both?” I wiggled on the bench. “And, technically, you did tell me to keep this shirt. So it’s mine now. I can make it into a ‘cushion for my backside’ if I need to, can’t I?”
Without the concealing shadows cast by the brim of his hat, I saw the slight tightening of the muscles around his mouth. A grimace? It certainly wasn’t a smile. Zabrians definitely smiledlike humans. I’d seen Rivven do it a dozen times today, usually when he was gazing besottedly at his beautiful wife. Whatever the expression Warden Hallum wore now, it was so miniscule that there was almost no point in trying to identify it. His face was clearly visible to me now, but I remained in the dark.
“Indeed,” he said. “Whatever you may need during your time here is yours. All is at your disposal.”
“Even you?” I said, slightly teasing.
But his response was entirely serious. Sobering.
“Even me, Dr. Ortiz.”
He held out his right hand to me. I swallowed down a sudden bout of shyness, leaned forward, and took it. His hand was hard and calloused and perfectly still.
But it was so damn warm. Just like the rest of him.
Unable to help myself, I gave his fingers a shivery little squeeze, then said, “Call me Lualhati.”
6
HALLUM
Somehow, I ended up holding Lualhati’s hand all the way to the porch. There did not seem to be an appropriate time to let go of it, especially as she still wore those asinine boots, and I still feared that she would fall. If I were to let go of her hand, I’d only end up grasping her by the elbow, or some other part of her, instead. Fortunately, the wagon was not at all far from the house, so I did not have to hold her hand for long. Having her silken palm pressed to mine made me feel as if something inside me were on the verge of combusting.
Probably something important. An irreplaceable organ. Or artery.
At least, if it happens, I’ve got a doctor with me,I thought grimly. If I somehow collapsed under the weight of her lovely little hand, perhaps there was a slim chance such an event would not actually be fatal.
An absurd series of thoughts, to be sure. I was not a man given to chasing ridiculous notions through my own head.
And I was not a man capable of being felled by nothing but press of a human palm and five slender fingers against my own. No matter how soft and fragrant they were.
By the empire, but she did smell good.
“Thank you,” she said brightly, and not for the first time tonight. She could be quite polite when she wanted to be.
Other times, she seemed nearly flippant, teasing, and tossing smiles at me like bombs.
We’d reached the top of the porch steps, and I transferred my hat to my tail and used my hand to open the door.
“It’s not locked!” Lualhati remarked, seeming surprised by this.
