The sun peeked over the top of the outer walls, casting a shadow through my window as I rubbed the last of the cool soapy water over my skin. I had never figured out what miracle of industry allowed the little flower-loofahs to produce suds in tepid water, but it was a life saver. I needed something to shock my system awake.

Early on, I figured out that the best way for Ingendia and me to get along was to spend as little extra time together as possible. That meant getting up early, pulling my own bathing water, and getting myself dressed before she delivered my breakfast.

The first few times, it was easier said than done. For some reason, Ingendia insisted on helping. If she arrived to find me in the middle of dressing, she came five minutes earlier the next day. If she found me washing, she came ten minutes earlier. It went on that way for weeks until I found her limit.

She wasn't so dedicated to her plan, whatever it was, that she would get up at dawn. But my little act of rebellion came with consequences. It didn't matter how late I stayed in the talajut with Zarbonov, learning everything I could about him and his people from his byantin. If I didn't get up with the sun, Ingendia was sure to be standing over me when I opened my eyes.

The idea of it had scared me out of bed on more than one morning, including this one. But even as I tied the last straps on my bodice and adjusted my linen dress, a dark funk hung over me that I couldn't shake. My mind kept wandering to my lesson from weeks before. To Zarbonov's lips pressed against mine.

It was the best kiss of my life. I'd never even dreamed about a kiss that intense . . . or explosive. The kiss was a bomb embedded in the sensitive balance Zarbonov and I had struck since he’d taken me from the auction house. That balance let me feel safe in his home, safe enough that I started to think of the tiny sparsely furnished room as my home.

So why should something as simple as a kiss send me so off-kilter? When Ingendia brought my breakfast hours later, I still hadn't figured it out.

"Up with the sun again, 'Tak?" she said as she set the tray on the bed.

"You should try it with me some time," I said. A small swell of pride still came over me when I responded to her in Xiban. "Isn't there a saying here about battle favoring the warrior who rises with the dawn?"

She rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand as she moved to the dresser. "Warriors’ sayings. Servants rise in the dark so their masters can rise at dawn."

I felt a pang of guilt at her words. Any other morning, I would have covered it. Zarbonov told me repeatedly that emotions could be weapons for his people. It was safest to hide them. But that morning, I couldn't stay silent.

"I didn't mean to make more work for you, Ingendia," I said. "I just like doing things for myself."

She paused in the middle of reaching for a towel, her hand hovering several inches above the ground. "You know better than to apologize, 'Tak. Kai'ben would not."

No, Zarbonov never apologized for wasting Ingendia's time. He never thanked her for anything she did. "Zarbonov vin Xarran is a warrior," I said as I poured myself a bowl of janlt. The hot tea had the consistency of a smoothie and a sweet aftertaste that I found comforting, even on hot Xiba days.

Ingendia watched me drink. She didn't say anything. In those first weeks, Ingendia stayed with us during our lessons for as long as she could.

"No. Maybe." I blew into the bowl. "Yes."

"What troubles you?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't still be troubled by it." I scowled down at my breakfast, mostly because throwing that look at Ingendia was sure to start a fight. A fight with Ingendia was the last thing I needed that morning.

"Then maybe you are restless." Ingendia moved to stand beside my bed. "We believe that one who is restless is one who is not what they are meant to be."

Ingendia stared at me, waiting for a reaction. I didn't look at her. I already knew what she was getting at. Zarbonov may have thought he had me fooled, but he didn't. He went along with the lessons, but not out of the kindness of his heart. He expected me to come around on the mating issue. Ingendia wasn't as subtle about her opinion.

Every chance she had, Ingendia reminded me that I was ‘Tak. A person with work they were leaving undone, with a position they had refused. But now, I knew enough about my new home to know what my refusal had cost Zarbonov and his family.

Without a proper mate, Zarbonov's status in the community was in flux. Which meant the status of the entire household, from the would-be mother-in-law I had yet to meet to Ingendia, was in jeopardy. Ingendia wouldn't explain the details to me. Zarbonov wouldn't even talk about it. If I asked, he told me not to concern myself with it.

Not to concern myself with the fact that the livelihood of an entire family rested on my agreeing to be Zarbonov's wife. Easiest thing in the world.

The more of the Xiban language I learned, the harder Ingendia worked to keep me away from the others. She sat with me every day, teaching me about the side of Xiban life that Zarbonov wouldn't think to. Things like the foods they served at parties and what women of status equivalent to Zarbonov's did to occupy their time. Zarbonov's lessons gave me the language, but Ingendia's helped the world around me become real.

It took me longer than it should have to realize why Ingendia paid such close attention to my crash course in Xiban studies. She did it for the same reason she painted my face and styled my hair if I let her. It was all part of her campaign to get me ready to be Zarbonov's mate.

"I know what you want, Ingendia," I said, snatching a spiced meatball from the breakfast tray. "I'm just not ready."

Since the night of the kiss, he had been very careful to avoid the subject of our relationship entirely. He never came close enough for us to touch in any way, even if it meant stopping in the middle of an action he had already started. The weirdest part was that he kept finding excuses not to look me directly in the eye. Sometimes, I was sure I could feel him staring at me while I watched the byantin on the floor. But whenever I looked up, he hadn't been looking at me at all.

Zarbonov seemed to have lost his stamina for the lessons, too. When he got his way, language lessons ended after only an hour. I was running out of interesting topics to keep him talking. It wasn't a question of Zarbonov's patience anymore. I had burned through it all.

"Perhaps not, 'Tak, but I think you are too close to yourself to judge the distance between what you were and what you will be." Ingendia squeezed my shoulder gently before she left the room.

"I hate it when you talk in riddles," I shouted as the door slid shut.

Normally, Ingendia came back a few hours later with lunch and a project to keep me busy until she left to fix my dinner. But at midday, she brought me a bowl of spicy fragrant stew and a jug of chilled janlt then left without saying anything to me. I wasn't sure if she was annoyed or wanted to give me space to think.

When the time came for me to meet Zarbonov in his office, I was bored and desperate for someone to talk to. There was a time when a day alone wouldn't have bothered me. Back on Earth, I lived for days when I could hunker down in my apartment and shut the entire world out. On Xiba, I learned that it was hard to be a hermit when your entire world consisted of two people.

It's hard not to be a hermit when everyone gives you the silent treatment. I slid my fingers along the keypad to let Zarbonov know I had arrived. There was no response. I swiped again. Nothing.

Zarbonov was never late. I figured that was the reason he’d set lessons for after dinner, when he was already home. I turned around and leaned back against the wall. My mind raced as it tried repeatedly to find a logical reason Zarbonov wasn't home that didn't mean something awful had happened. It failed miserably.

My back slid against the wall as I lowered myself to the floor. The worst-case scenario was that Zarbonov had finally gotten tired of . . . whatever this was and decided to cut his losses. It was also the only answer I knew in my gut wasn't the right one.

When he's finished with me—if he ever is—this won't be how it ends.

I couldn't even explain to myself why I was so sure. It was menenak, a bone-deep truth that existed beyond a person's ability to explain it.

Like the rising and setting of the sun. Like love.

I snorted softly. Love, at least the romantic kind, didn't seem to be a big deal to the Xiban. They liked to say that duty and tradition led their people, but Zarbonov sometimes let the truth slip in his byantin. Accomplishment and scandal drove life on Xiba, and the appearance of either carried as much weight as its actual existence.

They boiled everything down to its bare essence and decided if it was worth their effort or not. Love didn't make the cut, at least it didn't with Zarbonov. I had almost convinced myself that was a good thing.

The sounds of the lift door opening and heavy footsteps coming down the hall brought me back to reality. Zarbonov came around the corner, holding a shredded leather vest in his hand. Flecks of dried, dark purple blood stained his chest, leaving a trail to a thin wound in his shoulder.

The words for a wronged friend. The Xiban warrior's salute. Zarbonov wasn't usually so formal with me. I knew the words to say, but I was too stunned by the sight of him to say anything.

I climbed to my feet, looking from the wound to his eyes and back. I'd watched hours of Zarbonov's memories, seen him fight blue-skinned men and women of all ages, but he'd never been injured in any of them.

It was probably stupid of me to think he would never get hurt. He worked with sharp things for a living. That alone kicked his injury odds into the stratosphere. But it honestly never, for even one second, occurred to me that Zarbonov might get hurt.

"What happened?" I asked, staring in shock at the wound.

His brow furrowed and his lips turned into a scowl. He walked to the door and pressed his thumb against it. The smell of blood and sweat intensified as he came closer. The door slid open. "It was a long day."