Page 15 of I Married A Syllen

“Of course,” Mares replied at once. “We have a shuttle at the edge of your territory. It would be faster for us to travel there if—”

“No,” I interrupted in a tone that brooked no argument. “Syllens will not travel in your metal cages.”

“Very well,” he said in a conciliatory tone.

A part of me felt bad for being this harsh with him. Another just wanted to scream at those wretched off-worlders for once again harming our world with their constant need to just take whatever they found pretty.

I called my mount, and we flew for nearly an hour to our destination. As we began our approach to the massive garden trapped inside tall stone fences, another wave of anger swelled within me. A crowd of off-worlders stood outside the front gates, some of them using devices to enhance their view so that they could gawk at us.

Or more specifically at me…

The dreadful memory of the Settlers popped back into my head. I had been a youngling when they first arrived, barely nine years old. My fascination with these strange beings quickly shifted to unease, and then hatred. They would treat us like pets, expecting us to perform tricks for their entertainment. I still remembered the foul female who kept waving small fish at me, offering to feed it to me if I sang or did acrobatics in the water for her.

It took us far too many years to cast them out of our lands. So many of us died during the war to drive them out, and then from the diseases they left behind. While they unintentionally infected us with those initial illnesses, they deliberately poisoned our waters and our lands out of spite once we drove them out. Therefore, seeing all these off-worlders and knowing that they were but a tiny fraction of all those now infesting our world, twisted my insides.

The garden itself also had my tongue burning with the need to speak an endless string of curses. What kind of addle-brained idiot mixed these plants together?

To my relief, we landed on the inner side of the gate, safe from the crowd gathered outside. They were trying to come closer to get a better look, but a handful of people dressed in dark clothes held them back. As Mares and I dismounted, a skinny human with gray hair, a prominent nose, and blue eyes approached us.

I instantly disliked him.

His smile was too bright and his eyes calculating. The way he walked, puffing out his chest and with his chin slightly lifted, screamed of an overinflated sense of self-importance.

“Taelen, please meet Professor Peter Ludwig. He is the head of the Xenobotany Department of Acadia, the higher learning establishment of the human city.” Mares explained. “Professor Ludwig, this is Taelen, the Thesh of the Drossara Tribe.”

“Mr. Taelen, it is a tremendous honor to meet someone of your species,” he said in an overly enthusiastic fashion.

I gave him a stiff nod in response, my dislike growing further at the lack of sincerity behind the pretend delight he displayed. My skin crawled at how much he reminded me of the Settlers. The same type of entitled and self-righteous energy emanated from him.

“Where is Mirella?” Kayog asked with a frown, stretching his neck to look further back towards the building from which Ludwig had exited to come meet us.

He shrugged, an annoyed—if not disdainful—expression settling on his face.

“Ms. Fiore won’t be joining us,” he said dismissively.

“Why not?” Kayog demanded, his tone and expression hardening.

“There’s no need for her to be here,” Ludwig replied in a clipped tone. “She’s not a part of the task force.”