The weeks after my first night with Zarbonov were better than any since I’d arrived on Xiba. Better than any I could remember. I woke up each morning, tangled in his arms. With his warm body stretched against mine, I barely noticed the ungodly hour. By the end of the first week, I didn't notice at all.

Zarbonov's affection and attention kept me plenty distracted. If I wasn't in bed undressed when he came back to me for lunch, whatever I was wearing ended up in shreds on the floor. He offered apologies, which never quite felt sincere, and promises to buy a nicer dress or bodice in replacement.

To be honest, I didn't care. I still wasn't fond of Ingendia seeing me naked, which she had done on more than one occasion anyway, but Zarbonov was different. He was mine. I was his, and I never felt ashamed when he looked at me. I felt . . . wanted. For the first time in my life. And it felt amazing.

Dinner was more of the same, though we had to come up for air, dinner, and lessons. Officially becoming Zarbonov's mate gave my Xiban curriculum a shot of steroids. It wasn't enough for me to know random bits of domestic and traditional life. Being the mate of a warrior came with dozens of rules and guidelines, some official and some just common practice enforced with an iron fist.

Most of the rules weren't so bad, but I still had mixed feelings about attending the afternoon exhibition.

There was a method to the madness of Ingendia's afternoon projects. Every afternoon, the women and children of the household filed into the practice yard to watch the younger family members run drills. I never got used to the sight of seven-foot-tall blue-skinned men and women bashing swords and shields.

Ingendia turned out to be my one saving grace. She sat next to me in the observation box. She would never admit it, but I knew she came so I wouldn't feel so alone. I wish I could say that it worked, but the truth is I did feel alone.

Between the two of them, Zarbonov and Ingendia stayed with me most hours of the day. But they had other things to do in the house. They had work. I was a warrior's wife, sometimes a student . . . and nothing else. I tried not to think of my life that way. Sometimes, I succeeded, but the nagging feeling was always there in the back of my mind, waiting for me whenever there was nothing else there.

One afternoon, we got a reprieve from the exhibition when a storm blew in off the bay. The men of the house still went to the yard at dawn, but the rest of us could stay indoors and out of the water and wind. I didn't have anything else to do, so I stood in Zarbonov's office after lunch, watching the drills from the window.

Ingendia found me there when she brought my afternoon snack. "I thought you hated the drills, Kai'ben."

I rolled my eyes. "No, I hate it when you call me Kai'ben. I just strongly dislike the drills."

The argument over whether Ingendia would help me bathe and dress in the morning was a wash. I bathed early with Zarbonov and dragged my exhausted but satisfied body back to bed when he left. By the time Ingendia came to help me dress, I was happy for the help. I was determined not to lose the battle over what she called me.

She set the tray on the desk and came up behind me. "As you say, Kai'ben."

"Smartass," I snapped, though I couldn't help but smile. "I walked right into that one."

I couldn't take my eyes away from Zarbonov. He stood in the middle of the yard, two inches taller than his opponent, a cousin whose name I had yet to learn. There was a stiffness to his movements that I didn't like. A small hitch when he brought his broadsword down that hadn't been there before. I couldn't see the scar on his shoulder through the rain, but I looked for it anyway, wondering if the weather was making it hurt.

"He is of strong blood," Ingendia said. She must have had the same worry I did. "He has been stifled before, but blood like his does well here."

It's you and me against everything else.

"That won't be a problem anymore," I whispered.

Something on the sidelines drew Zarbonov's attention. He gestured for his opponent to go back to the benches while he saw to the messenger.

"Who is it from?" I asked. "I can't see from up here."

Ingendia leaned forward, peering through the rain. Xiban eyes were better than human eyes. She would be able to make out details I couldn't. The frown on her lips wasn't reassuring.

"I am sorry, Kai'ben. I do not believe Zarbonov vin Carzon will be back for dinner tonight. The messenger wears the emblem of the Primen."

As Ingendia spoke, Zarbonov looked up to the upper floors of the tower, toward the office window.

"Is that good or bad?" I asked.

Her hesitation was all the answer I needed. "I will sit with you until he comes back if you wish. And when he comes back, we will know.”

"Thank you, Ingendia," I whispered.

Zarbonov didn't move. I couldn't see his eyes from the distance between us, but I knew they were locked on mine. I raised my left hand, palm out, and pressed my right fist to my chest. The gesture to bid a warrior to return from the field of battle. He pressed his hand to his weapon and brought his right fist to his chest, and then he left the yard.

We sat together for hours. First in the office, then at the big table in the main room after Ingendia insisted I eat something. She called down to the rest of the staff through the wall panel and had them bring spiced meatballs and a pot of warm janlt.

"To drive the chill of the storm from your bones," she said.

The plate of food cooled and congealed untouched. Only one third of the pitcher was gone, and most of that Ingendia drank herself. I knew she meant well. I knew she was only trying to follow her duty. But I couldn't bring myself to touch anything. Not until Zarbonov came back to me.

An hour after sunset, the main door opened and Zarbonov walked through it. I stood up before the door had even closed, fully prepared to fling myself at him, but the serious look on his face held me in place.

"Kai'jan," I whispered. My heart sank deep into my stomach.

Zarbonov looked at Ingendia. "Go to my father. You will find him in the armory. Ask him to lend me his sharpest sword, his sturdiest shield, and his truest rifle."

The words of a first son leaving on a dangerous journey. My mouth went dry. The wave of excitement I felt when he walked in vanished into cold oblivion. My knees buckled and I flopped back down into the chair.

Ingendia pressed her hand over mine and squeezed gently, then climbed to her feet and left the room. The second the door closed, Zarbonov crossed the room and knelt beside me. He took my hands into his, rubbing my knuckles with his thumbs.

"Sentinel scouts on the border of Xiban space spotted an enemy cruiser. The Tabor. You do not know them, but one of their canons on even one of their cruisers could destroy V'dal in minutes. The ship, or one like it, has been seen in our space three times in the last moon cycle. It cannot be a coincidence."

Zarbonov reached up, brushing one of my curls back behind my ear. "And the Primen has asked me to lead the investigation team."

The Xiban word for leader, although sometimes the person in the position ended up being more of a warlord.

"The Primen? I didn't realize you knew him."

"He runs the auction house where I purchased you."

He watched my face carefully to gauge my reaction to the news. It didn't bother me to be reminded of that night. I wasn't that woman anymore. He wasn't that man anymore. Zarbonov knew the Primen, at least in part, because of me. He was going into danger because of me.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. The details of his mission slipped from my mind almost as soon as I processed the words. "And it's dangerous."

"Compared to my normal work, yes. If it goes well, there may be more like it."

There was apprehension in Zarbonov's voice, but also excitement. Thousands of warriors all over Xiban, hundreds of them in V'dal alone, would pay any price for the Primen's favor. All Zarbonov had to do was be lucky enough to catch Carzon's eye while he was looking for his mate.

It should have been a moment of pride, but I didn't feel any. Sitting there with him, the only thing I felt was fear. Deep, gnawing fear that my impossible first love was about to fly into the stars and I may never see him again.

"Don't go," I whispered, tears gathering in my eyes. "Don't leave me alone here."

A real Xiban wife would never ask her husband not to go to war. She would never ask him to bring shame to his blood for her sake. But I wasn't a Xiban, not really. I loved Zarbonov and I knew enough of his culture to pretend.

The look of hurt on Zarbonov's face made me regret the words immediately. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me out of the chair and into his lap.

"If I never had to be apart from you again, Ella jan Zarbonov, I could die a happy man." He held me close, tucking my hair beneath his chin.

"With a tarnished emblem and a stagnant line." I sniffled and wiped the tears away. "I remember."

Zarbonov pressed a kiss to my forehead. His hand caressed my hip through the linen. "Why does this trouble you so, Kai'jan? Tell me what I can do to put your mind at ease."

"You take your oaths to me seriously because we belong to one another. Nobody else in this house, no one else on Xiba, is bound by that."

He leaned back to look at me. His brow furrowed. "You are my mate, of my blood. Of everyone here."

The tears came again. I sniffled and wiped them away as soon as they came. So much for a warrior's mate. Maids on this planet didn't get as emotional as I did. "That doesn't always matter on Earth. I didn't matter to my father."

Zarbonov's eyes hardened. "Then he is a fool who has lost the only thing of worth he ever created. I consider myself blessed to be the one to treasure and care for it on my home world instead of his."

My mind flashed to my childhood. To screams and shouts as the main course at every dinner. To my father, purple-faced with rage and clutching a triple whiskey neat in his meaty right hand.

"If I had byantin, I could show you," I said.

"Your words will have to do," he said, taking my face in his hands again. "But if it causes you this much pain, perhaps these memories are best left behind."

"Maybe you're right, but that's hard to do."

"Then we will start those lessons on my return." He pulled me close and brushed his lips along my neck, drawing a soft moan from my lips. "Because you are my mate. For the rest of your days, you will be my mate. And I will come back for you."