“You didn’t have to start cooking without me,” she said, crossing to the low table where roots waited to be peeled.
“You were busy fleeing.”
“I wasn’t fleeing. I was getting dressed. As instructed.”
He glanced sideways at her, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “It’s certainly very concealing.”
“You said clothes. This is clothing.”
“It is definitely that.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but there was no heat in it, and her nerves eased when he huffed that low, rumbling laugh again. She knew how to handle the safe, familiar rhythm of their life together. She liked their mornings, with their quiet conversation and the way he always made sure she had eaten before he left. The other thing, the hot, humming thing that had woken in her body, she folded up small and tucked away where she didn’t have to look at it.
Instead she picked up the small bone knife he’d made especially for her, the handle carved in a snowflake pattern, and set to work peeling the pale roots. The strips curled away neat and thin. She’d gotten good at this. Good at a lot of things, actually, though she never quite believed it when anyone commented.
“Yasmin’s coming by later,” she said. “She wants to show off the baby again.”
“Again?” he teased.
“She’s a very interesting baby,” she said defensively, thinking of the adorable half-Hothian, half-human infant.
“She sleeps and screams and leaks.”
“Interestingly.”
That earned her the full, warm laugh from deep in his chest that always made her feel like she’d won something. She was still smiling down at the roots when the entrance chimes rang and a shadow fell across the entrance.
“Clan Leader.” A young warrior stood at the threshold, breathing a little quickly, as though he’d hurried up from the lower caves. “May I speak with you?”
Her knife slowed as she looked at the stranger from the corner of her eye. Aside from the fact that he was male, the presence of another Hothian didn’t trouble her. Despite that, Njkall took a step forward, angling himself between her and the newcomer.
“Enter, Sorrath,” Njkall said. “Have you come from Port Eyeja?”
“Yes. Baralt sent me to report.” Sorrath stepped inside but stayed near the entrance, giving her a wide, deliberate berth that she appreciated more than she could ever say. “The Kaisarian trade envoy left on schedule with the latest shipment of sothiti. And new visitors for the resort keep arriving. Three shuttles yesterday. Two more this morning.”
Njkall nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll be fully booked this cycle.”
“The resort is proving to be most popular.” Sorrath shrugged. “These offworlders are willing to pay a great deal of credits to sleep in soft beds and stare at our snow through glass.”
Rich offworld visitors came for the views and the carefully curated experiences of skiing and skating and pretending that a dangerous ice planet was merely a winter playground.
“Good.” Njkall’s voice held a great deal of satisfaction. He had fought for the resort, not only as a way to pull Hothrest out of its isolation, but to give it a wider presence in the Kaisarian Empire. “This is what we wanted. Careful growth.”
“Yes.” Sorrath hesitated, and shifted his weight.
“But,” Njkall prompted.
“But the wealthy don’t travel alone, Clan Leader.” Sorrath’s jaw worked. “Where there are credits, there are those who come to take them. The resort manager reported two guests this week with false travel papers. The landing field is experiencing more traffic and—” He stopped, glanced at her, and lowered his voice, though the cave carried it clearly anyway. “Many of the ships are less than reputable. No cargo manifests. No trade registrations.”
The knife stilled completely in her hand.
She knew that kind of ship. She’d been carried through the black in the belly of one, in a cage that stank of fear and rust, stored like cargo alongside the others they’d stolen.Illegal traders.
The pale root slipped from her fingers and rolled off the table onto the stone floor. The small sound seemed enormous in the sudden quiet, and both males looked at her.
Njkall crossed the room before she’d finished drawing breath, his huge body crouching down in front of her, blocking the doorway and Sorrath and everything else from view.
“Polly,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Look at me. You’re here. You’re safe. Nothing on those ships can reach into this cave.”
