Chapter Twenty-nine
It had been a long time since Sylvan had worn a tharp and the traditional dress of his home planet felt strange to him. To be honest, he would have preferred to remain in his Kindred uniform. But he knew that would stir up trouble with the Purists and he didn’t want to deal with controversy at the moment. So he reluctantly decided to dress in the traditional manner—at least for the feast.
He had been a little worried about breaking in a new tharp on such short notice, but luckily his mother’s sister had some that were new and not yet imprinted. He had chosen a shaggy brown one that looked mature for its age and let it know that he would tolerate no nonsense. The tharp had acquiesced to his will at once and draped obediently and securely around his waist as he directed.
Sylvan only hoped that Sophia, who had been shut up in Nadiah’s room for well over an hour now, was having similar luck. It would have been better if he’d had time to explain to her about the Tranq Prime clothing and customs, but he was sure Nadiah was covering all that as she dressed Sophia for the feast.
“Well,” he said aloud, looking at his new tharp in the viewer. “This one appears to be well behaved.”
His mother’s sister’s mate, Grennly, nodded in approval. “A good choice. As I recall, you always were good at subduing tharps to your will. Too bad you don’t have as much luck with females, eh?” He laughed and slapped Sylvan on his bare back.
“Yes, it’s a pity,” Sylvan said politely. And as I recall, you always were an idiot. But he didn’t say it aloud—one could not say such things to kin, no matter how true they were.
“So why did you really forswear yourself of the exotic little Earthling?” Grennly wanted to know. He had been taking sips from a small stone flask ever since he’d managed to slip away from his mate, and his proper Purist attitude seemed to be melting away along with his sobriety. “I mean, she’s not a Prime female but she’s pretty enough in an off-worlder kind of way. A bit short for my tastes but that dark hair is very fetching. I would’ve thought you’d snatch her up.”
Sylvan gritted his teeth and fought the irritation that rose inside him at the male’s ignorant words. “Sophia is a good deal more than fetching. And I am here to protect her—nothing more. She is being hunted by the Scourge.”
“Is that right?” Grennly took another swig from his flask. “Feenah will be at the feast tonight, you know,” he said, changing the subject with his usual lack of tact.
“I expected as much,” Sylvan said evenly. “She and Tyber will be sitting at the founding families table, no doubt.”
“You don’t know?” Grennly raised his thin blond eyebrows in surprise.
“Know what?”
“Why that Feenah is still unmated! She and Tyber went their separate ways barely a cycle after you left Tranq Prime for good.” He snorted. “Or rather, Tyber went his own way. He ran off with a female from the Twii grotto right before he and Feenah were to be mated.”
Sylvan frowned. “Such faithlessness in a male is shameful.”
Grennly looked surprised. “I would have thought you’d be glad to hear that Feenah got a taste of her own medicine.”
“I cared for her at one time—cared deeply,” Sylvan said. “How could I be happy about anything that hurt her?”
“Well…” Grennly shrugged his narrow shoulders and settled on the sleeping platform. “Just thought you might like to know. And she’s still unmated. Might be she’ll be more amenable to your, ah, attentions now than she was last time you were here.”
Sylvan adjusted his tharp and frowned. “I thought you and Zeelah were Purists now. Why would you encourage me to pursue a pure-blooded Prime female—especially one who has already rejected me once before?”
Grennly cleared his throat. “Well, all that Purist sentiment is mainly for Zeelah’s benefit. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I wouldn’t want Nadiah bonding with a Kindred.” He took another drink. “No offence.”
“None taken,” Sylvan said dryly, reaching for the pair of extra-large brown fur boots that his mother’s sister had somehow managed to procure for him.
“Good.” Grennly nodded. “As to why I would encourage the match, well, Feenah’s people have always been a little too proud of their blood lines.”
Sylvan raised an eyebrow at the other male. “So you want me to bond with Feenah in order to ‘pollute’ their blood with my inferior Kindred stock and put them in their place?”
“ Exactly.” Grennly was either completely immune to sarcasm or not sober enough to notice Sylvan’s tone. “They think they’re so important because their domicile is closer to the main grotto than ours.”
“They are dreadfully self-important.” Zeelah’s strident voice preceded her as she entered the guest room they had given Sylvan.
Grennly, who had been lounging on the sleeping platform, quickly hid the stone flask under a pillow and sat up straight. “Just so, my dear. Just so.”
“Sylvan, my dear, just look at you.” Zeelah came forward, smiling. “So handsome! A bit brawny for my taste, perhaps but you can’t help that—it’s the Kindred blood in you.”
Sylvan looked at her. “I’m proud to be what I am—a Kindred warrior.”
“Of course. Of course.” Zeelah made a gesture with one hand, as though shooing his words—and his less than pure blood lines—away. “But you’re first and foremost a male of Tranq Prime and tonight we’re going to remind everyone of that.”
Sylvan raised an eyebrow at her. “And just how do you intend to do that?”
“Not to worry—I have everything in hand.” Zeelah gave him a reassuring smile that he didn’t trust a bit, but before he could say anything Nadiah stuck her head in the doorway.
“What’s everybody doing in here? We’re going to be late for the feast!”
“Coming my dear.” Zeelah smiled at her daughter. “Is Sophia all ready for her first Snowdrop Festival?”
“As ready as I could make her.” Nadiah sounded a little doubtful. “We had some trouble with her tharp but it’s behaving itself now—I think. ”
“Nadiah Vil-delano Quii—that was all you had to do, just find her a suitable tharp,” Zeelah scolded. “Couldn’t you even manage that?”
“I did manage it,” said Nadiah defensively. “She looks fine and we’re ready to go. But we can’t leave until the males do—unless you want to break with tradition and all go together. My friend Lenrah’s family are all going together at the same time. She told me so.”
Zeelah sniffed. “Really, Nadiah, where do you find these friends? Is their domicile even anywhere near the main corridor? ”
Nadiah bristled. “Lenrah’s people are perfectly nice and respectable, Mamam. And who cares where their domicile is located?”
“ You had better care, young lady, if you want to make a good bonding match,” Zeelah said tartly. “You’re judged by the company you keep, you know. And furthermore—”
“Sylvan and I are ready.” Grennly got to his feet looking surprisingly steady for a male who’d been drinking as much as he had. “We’ll go on ahead, shall we?”
“Yes, yes, go.” Zeelah made a shooing gesture. “But don’t be seated until I get there. You won’t have to wait long—we’ll be right behind you.”
“All right then. Come on, Sylvan.” Grennly nodded for him to follow but Sylvan stayed where he was.
“I would prefer to escort Sophia to the feast myself.”
“What?” Zeelah fluttered around him in agitation. “But you can’t do that, Sylvan! The males in the family must always arrive first and you’re not even a bonded pair—think what people will say .”
“I don’t care what they say, Sophia is uncomfortable enough as it is and I am the only person she knows on Tranq Prime. I won’t abandon her just to please convention.”
“But Sylvan—”
“It’s all right.” Sophia appeared in the doorway, smiling hesitantly. She looked lovely in a moss green tharp that draped beautifully over her curves and brought out her eyes. “Excuse me, I don’t know if I’m supposed to be in here but I heard voices so…”
“Of course it’s okay.” Nadiah smiled at her. “What happened to you, anyway? I thought you were just going to relieve yourself. What took so long?”
“Oh, I…” Sophia’s cheeks went nearly scarlet. “I had a little difficulty. I mean, your, ah, facilities are different from what I’m used to. And then I got lost. Your, uh, domicile is very beautiful and very large ,” she said, turning to Zeelah.
“Well, of course.” Zeelah puffed up with pride. “The Quiis are one of the first families. We couldn’t possibly live in a smaller or less prominent dwelling.”
Nadiah rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Because everyone knows your worth as a person is determined by your blood lines and social rank.”
Zeelah turned on her daughter. “That’s enough out of you, young lady. You may turn up your nose at our social standing now but when it comes time for you to choose a mate I’m sure you’ll think differently.”
“Now, now.” Grennly stepped between his mate and daughter. “Let’s not argue on a festival day. Sylvan and I need to get going or we’ll all be late.”
Sylvan crossed his arms over his chest. “You can go ahead. I’ll be escorting Sophia.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Sophia said quickly, before his mother’s sister could protest. “I’ll be fine going with the girls.”
“Are you certain?” Sylvan walked over and took her by the shoulders. Looking down into her eyes he murmured, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine, really.” She smiled up at him. “Nadiah and I are already friends and besides, I don’t want to make things hard on you in your own hometown. Er…home planet.”
Sylvan scanned her face, wanting to be certain she was really all right. “If you’re truly certain…”
“Positive,” she assured him brightly.
“And your tharp is well suited to you?”
She looked down at herself. “It’s, uh, fine. Nadiah had a hard time getting it fastened at first but now it fits like a glove.”
“So I see.” He couldn’t help noticing that the tharp in question was clinging to her in a way that was almost indecent. From what Nadiah had said, it had been troublesome to begin with. Well, it appears to like her well enough now, he thought, eying the way it was draped lovingly over her full breasts and hips. “Just keep it in its place,” he told Sophia.
“Of course I’ll keep it in place.” She frowned. “I mean, it’s not like I would take it off in the middle of the feast.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant—” Sylvan started to say, but then Grennly was taking him by the arm. “Your lovely young lady is fine, Sylvan and we really need to go.”
“Go on, you two.” Zeelah shooed them out the doorway. “We females will do a last bit of freshening up and we’ll meet you at the feasting grotto.”
Frowning, Sylvan cast a last look over his shoulder at Sophia. But she was arm-in-arm with Nadiah and the two females were already talking about something else. He told himself he was being overprotective. After all, it wasn’t like the Scourge could reach down and pluck her away from him here under the surface of Tranq Prime. She was as safe as she could possibly be—she didn’t need him keeping her caged in every minute, especially when it seemed that she and Nadiah were already fast friends.
Still, it was with a certain amount of reluctance that he allowed Grennly to lead him out of the domicile and toward the feasting grotto. Sophia was so beautiful in the clinging, moss green tharp and if another male looked at her or wanted to talk to her, he would have to sit by and watch it happen. Because despite what his heart told him, he technically had no claim on her.
No claim at all.
* * * * *
Sophie watched Sylvan walk away and tried to subdue the small spark of panic that tried to set fire to her nerves. I’ll be fine, she told herself nervously as Nadiah squeezed her arm. Just fine. And I’m sure we’ll sit together at the feast so it’s no big deal that we aren’t walking there together now.
She wished she’d had five minutes alone with him before he left, though. She wanted to talk to him—really talk , not just mouth pleasantries, which was all she felt able to do in front of his relatives. And she wouldn’t have minded a little time to admire him, either. Though the Tranq Prime style of dress looked absolutely ridiculous on his uncle, Sylvan pulled it off with style and class.
With his bare chest, the brown tharp draped around his waist like a furry kilt and the brown fur boots to match, he had the whole barbarian vibe going on in a very hot way. He looked like a primitive warrior ready to go into battle and Sophie couldn’t help thinking that no woman in her right mind could resist him. Especially not an ex-girlfriend that still had the hots for him.
Sophie only hoped she looked as good in her own tharp. It really was an amazing piece of clothing. The way it draped around her and joined at just the right places—it was almost as though it had a mind of its own. But of course that was ridiculous. She was just glad that Nadiah had finally gotten it fastened after working with it for almost half an hour. It had taken her much less time to put Sophie’s hair up into an elaborate loopy up-do, held in place with thin combs made out of some kind of translucent, glittery mineral.
When Sophie had looked in the viewer she’d had to admit the effect was very nice. The moss green tharp draped across her breasts like a strapless gown, leaving her shoulders bare. But it also managed to form long, flowing sleeves that covered her arms from the elbows down and made her feel like a princess. The bodice—if you could call it that—was a little tight and clingy, but it fell gracefully to her feet, which were covered in furry white dress boots that Nadiah had loaned her. She had found Sophie’s flip-flops fascinating and also a little naughty—apparently females on Tranq Prime didn’t show their feet to anyone but their mates.
The only thing Sophie didn’t like about her new outfit was the fact that she’d had to take off her bra and underwear to put it on. She’d begged to be allowed to keep her panties on at least but Nadiah had vetoed the idea firmly. Apparently wearing any other clothing besides footwear was some kind of insult to the tharp. Sophie supposed it was like trying to modify a gown made by an important designer back on Earth. Maybe Nadiah was afraid that they would meet the person who had made her particular tharp and he or she would be upset.
She had never been a slave to fashion before but in the end, she reluctantly agreed to leave off her underwear in deference to the Tranq Prime customs. It made her wish for her simple cotton sundress, though. Despite the fact that it was completely sleeveless and much shorter than the tharp, she had felt a lot less naked and vulnerable wearing it.
“So tell me what really happened in the necessary room,” Nadiah said in a low voice as they walked slowly down the long stone corridor behind her mother. “Was there some kind of problem?”
“A little,” Sophie confessed, feeling her cheeks get hot. “There was some kind of, uh, animal in there—I guess it must be your family’s pet? Anyway, when I finished, uh, relieving myself it suddenly got very, er, very friendly .”
She shivered just remembering it…
The facilities were strange—the toilet was on a stone pedestal and she had to climb a set of elaborately carved steps to reach it. It made her hope she didn’t have to go in the middle of the night—she could just imagine falling off because she was half asleep. When she was finished, Sophie looked for the tissue but she didn’t see it anywhere. Great, she thought to herself. So what am I supposed to do now—drip dry?
It was then that the thing she’d assumed was a furry purple bath mat at the base of the pedestal, climbed up and insinuated itself onto her lap.
Sophie was frightened at first and almost screamed. But then she remembered Liv’s story about Baird’s blue teddy bear, Bebo. The first time she saw him, Liv had been sure the little animal was some kind of predator intent on eating her up, when in fact he was just a harmless pet. Sophie was determined not to repeat her sister’s mistake. I’m not going to get all freaked out when it’s obviously just some kind of pet, she told herself firmly. I can handle this—it’s no big deal.
The mat was a little creepy but she liked animals—especially little furry ones—and it sort of reminded her of long-haired purple cat. A very flat cat, to be sure, but it made a soft humming sound that was sort of like purring when she stroked it and seemed loveable on the whole.
“Good girl…or boy,” Sophie murmured, petting its flat, furry back. “Aren’t you a good little…whatever you are? Good—”
And that was when the mat started trying to work its way between her legs. “Hey!” she yelped. “Bad mat…cat…thing. Whatever you are. Stop it—no!” She pushed it firmly away but it was very insistent. Now it reminded her of one of those dogs that wasn’t happy unless it had its snout buried firmly in someone’s crotch. Only most people didn’t usually leave their overly-friendly dogs in the bathroom to ambush unsuspecting guests at such a vulnerable moment.
As she fought with the alien animal, her tharp somehow got twisted around her legs and Sophie nearly fell right off the elaborate pedestal where the toilet was perched. She pushed the purple mat away long enough to hop awkwardly down and ran out of the bathroom—or necessary room as Nadiah called it—barely getting the door shut in time.
“Oh my God,” she muttered, breathless from her narrow escape. She leaned against the door, her heart beating crazily as she tried to rearrange her tharp. But she could still hear it—the purple mat thing was scratching frantically on the other side of the door, trying to get to her…
“Oh, you mean the cleaner?” Nadiah said, breaking into her too-vivid recollection of the bathroom break from hell.
Sophie frowned. “The what? Is that what you call that little purple mat thing?”
Nadiah nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes, that’s it. What was the problem?”
Sophie could feel her cheeks getting even hotter. “Well it came up and wanted to sit on my lap. It scared me at first but then I realized it must be a family pet so I petted it some but then it…” She dropped her voice, not wanting Sylvan’s aunt to hear. “It tried to get between my legs.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what they do—cleaners, I mean.” Nadiah didn’t sound surprised at all. “They clean .”
“They do?” Sophie demanded. “And you don’t try to stop them?”
Nadiah shrugged. “Why would you? Besides, how else would you get clean if you don’t let the cleaner take care of you?”
“With…with something that’s not alive , that’s how,” Sophie sputtered. “You mean you just let it…let it get between your legs and…and…”
“And clean you.” Nadiah nodded. “Sure. Why—how do you manage on your planet?”
“Well on my part of Earth we use tissue.” When Nadiah frowned, Sophie tried to think of a way to explain. “Thin sheets of disposable material.”
“Like fur?”
“No. It’s actually made from wood pulp—from trees,” Sophie said.
Nadiah frowned. “You mean on Earth you clean your bottom with trees ? Doesn’t that hurt?”
“It’s not like that,” Sophie assured her. “It’s—”.
“I mean, if your trees are like ours—don’t you ever get splinters?” Nadiah interrupted. “Or do Earth people have really tough skin down there?”
“No, of course not. You don’t understand—”
“Well girls, here we are.” Zeelah turned to face them and Sophie realized that they had passed through the main grotto and were standing in front of a narrow opening in the pink rock wall. There was a muted glow coming from within that made Sophie think of candle-light and for the first time she wondered how the vast underground caverns were illuminated. Were the rock walls themselves photo-luminescent? Or was there some kind of plant or animal that gave off light way up on the ceiling, out of sight? She opened her mouth to ask but before she could, Sylvan’s aunt had her by the arm and was leading her into the narrow stone archway.
“Come my dear, we need to get you seated.”
“Oh, uh, okay. Thanks,” Sophie said uncertainly.
“See you later,” Nadiah chirped, letting go of her other arm. “We can talk after the feast.”
“Oh.” Sophie felt suddenly bereft. She’d assumed that Nadiah would be staying with her through the entire feast. “Uh, all right,” she said, trying to sound unconcerned. Of course Nadiah had friends of her own she wanted to sit with and besides, Sophie told herself, she would still be with Sylvan—right?
But when they entered the smaller grotto Zeelah steered her purposefully to a large oval table with only one free seat.
“Wait,” Sophie objected, looking around the cavern for Sylvan. There were many, many high, oval tables scattered around and most of them were already filled with people but she didn’t see him anywhere.
“What’s the matter, my dear?” Zeelah’s voice was kind but the grip she had on Sophie’s arm felt like a pair of iron pincers.
“I just thought I’d be sitting with Sylvan. Oh look—there he is!” He was standing against the wall talking to his uncle and few other males. Sophie tried to go to him but there was no escaping Zeelah.
“Oh, you can’t sit with Sylvan, my dear,” she purred sweetly in Sophie’s ear. “Considering your rank and status that would never do.”
“What rank?” Sophie asked, frowning. “Honestly, I’m not an important person where I come from. I just teach elementary art.”
“Of course you’re important,” Zeelah said firmly. “Why, you’re a visitor from another planet! An emissary from Earth. I’m going to place you between Lady Whitethorn and Magistrate Licklow.”
“I’m sorry? Magistrate who ?” Sophie was sure she must have misunderstood the last name Zeelah had mentioned—were her translation bacteria acting up?
“Lady Whitethorn and Magistrate Licklow. He’s only the most important male in the grotto.” Zeelah lowered her voice. “Now remember, as our guest you’re representing our family so I expect you to make a good impression, my dear.”
“But I don’t know your customs,” Sophie said desperately. “What if I make a mistake? Please, I really think I’d be better off with Sylvan.”
“Nonsense.” By this time Zeelah had dragged her all the way to the table and was motioning to a high, padded chair which reminded Sophie of a bar stool. “Now climb up like a good girl and do your best,” she hissed under her breath.
Sophie opened her mouth to protest one more time but the look on Sylvan’s aunt’s face was so scary that she closed it abruptly. Zeelah was smiling but her eyes were hard and there were two little white dents on either side of her aristocratic nose. Clearly she was as sweet as could be—as long as she got her way. But if you crossed her… I better not cross her, Sophie thought. Reluctantly she mounted the chair and settled herself on its bright yellow cushion. As she did Zeelah introduced her.
“Lady Whitethorn, Magistrate Licklow, I’d like to present our guest Sophia,” she said importantly.
“Uh, how do you do?” Sophie said weakly, greeting the man and woman on either side of her. Lady Whitethorn was a stick-thin older woman with a regal bearing and hair as white as the tharp she was wearing. Her eyes were a very pale shade of crystal blue that almost looked clear.
Magistrate Licklow was her exact opposite. Though most of the people Sophie had seen on Tranq Prime were tall and thin, he was extremely corpulent with a round belly and red cheeks that made her think of Santa Claus. All he needed was a long white beard and a red suit. Not that I’d want to sit on his lap and tell him what I want for Christmas, Sophie thought. Not with a name like “Licklow.” She stifled a nervous giggle and then realized that Sylvan’s aunt was still talking.
“Sophia is an ambassador from Earth, fifty light years away,” she was saying. “She’s a leading artist on her world and she’s here on a mission of peace and goodwill to our planet. I hope you’ll enjoy her company.”
Sophie opened her mouth to protest—Zeelah had made her sound about a thousand times more important than she was—but the look on the other woman’s face was more than enough to shut her up.
“Have fun my dear,” she murmured, patting Sophie on the arm and then she left.
“Well, well, it’s been a long time since we’ve had such an important visitor.” Magistrate Licklow beamed at her, looking positively jolly. “And you’ve come such a long way too.”
“Anyone can come vast distances if they fold space,” Lady Whitethorn sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “Tell me, my dear, isn’t that a Kindred technology?”
“Yes it is.” Sophie shifted in her seat uncomfortably. While she had been up and walking around the tharp she was wearing had felt fine. But now that she was sitting it was itching in the most distracting way. “Uh, I’m here with Sylvan,” she said, looking around for him and trying not to fidget.
“Sylvan Vii?” Lady Whitethorn raised an eyebrow at her inquiringly.
To her mortification, Sophie realized she didn’t know Sylvan’s last name. In fact, she hadn’t even known that he had a last name—it seemed that all the Kindred she knew just went by their first names. “Uh, I suppose so,” she said uncertainly. “He’s related to, uh, Lady Zeelah who introduced us?”
“Oh, I know him well enough.” Lady Whitethorn sniffed again. “He was once betrothed to my daughter. Of course her father and I put a stop to that nonsense.”
“He was?” Sophie looked at her uncertainly. “So your daughter must be Feenah then.”
“She is indeed. She was supposed to be sitting beside me but now I see her over there for some reason.” Lady Whitethorn sounded most displeased.
Sophie followed her gaze and couldn’t help feeling upset as well. Sitting at a table diagonally across from them was the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. She was tall and slender with hair such a pale blond it was almost white. Her eyes, when she looked up, were the same crystal blue as her mother’s and she was wearing a lovely indigo tharp that set them off perfectly. Worst of all, she was sitting right beside Sylvan.
“Well if I’m in your daughter’s seat, maybe I should just trade places with her,” Sophie said, having a sudden inspiration.
“What?” Magistrate Licklow sounded shocked. “Get up and leave for another table once you’ve been seated? Impossible .”
“And very insulting as well.” Lady Whitethorn gave her a stern look. “Although I’m sure an important ambassador like yourself must have much better things to do than share a meal with Magistrate Licklow and myself.”
“No, no! Of course not.” Sophie was horrified. She’d been seated less than five minutes and already she’d made a horrible social blunder. “I would never think anything like that,” she protested. “Please forgive me—I didn’t know it was rude to change seats at a feast here on Tranq Prime. It’s perfectly fine on my planet so I didn’t think anything of it.”
“Indeed.” Lady Whitethorn looked down her thin, boney nose. “So on Earth it’s considered normal to go hopping from seat to seat completely disregarding your dinner companions’ finer feelings? It sounds like a rather primitive world, I’m afraid.”
“No it’s not,” Sophie protested. “We’re really quite civilized.”
“I’m sure you are,” Magistrate Licklow said heartily. “Why, I’m certain your grottos on Earth are almost as lovely as our own here on Tranq Prime.”
“Well, no,” Sophie admitted, thinking again of her family vacation to the natural caverns. “Most of our, uh, grottos are dark and dirty. But that’s only because nobody lives there,” she added hastily.
“Oh?” Magistrate Licklow raised his bushy eyebrows. “Then where do you live?”
“On the surface of our world.”
Lady Whitethorn looked aghast. “Crawling on the surface like bugs! How awful!”
“No it’s not—honestly.” Sophie was miserably aware that she was giving her dining companions a very dismal view of Earth but she couldn’t seem to help it—everything she said just came out wrong somehow.
“But how do you keep warm?” Magistrate Licklow wanted to know. “You must cultivate some very heavy tharps indeed.”
“We don’t need them,” Sophie said. “Earth isn’t nearly as cold as Tranq Prime. Well, parts of it are, but most of it isn’t. And some parts are so hot you could practically go naked. Not that you would,” she added quickly but the damage was already done.
“So you wander around on top of your world, half naked, with no proper tharps to wear and no grottoes to live in.” Lady Whitethorn shook her head. “Dear me, I don’t believe I will be visiting any time soon.”
“Come now, Lady Whitethorn, we must forgive the lovely Sophia a few oddities—she is, after all, an alien.” The Magistrate smiled at Sophie and raised a glass of clear blue liquid. “Although it’s easy to forget. You speak our language so well we could almost believe you’re one of us.”
“Thank you.” Sophie smiled at him gratefully and took a sip from her own glass. The blue liquid burned a trail down her throat and exploded in her stomach, making her eyes water. She set it down hastily and tried not to cough. “But I really know hardly anything about your customs,” she admitted. “I’m only fluent in your language because I was given an injection of translation bacteria.”
“Yet another Kindred invention, no doubt,” Lady Whitethorn said witheringly.
Sophie began to get irritated. “And what’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with the Kindred?”
“Nothing at all…provided you don’t mind your family tree bearing some rather odd fruit.” Lady Whitethorn tittered unkindly.
Sophie’s tharp was itching her abominably and the discomfort made her irritable. Or else maybe the pale blue drink had gone to her head—either way she couldn’t just sit there without saying something.
“My sister is mated to a Kindred warrior,” she said, lifting her chin “She just found out she’s pregnant and we couldn’t be happier. In fact—” But just at that moment the long, trailing sleeve of her tharp seemed to jerk on its own and somehow snagged Lady Whitethorn’s glass. Before Sophia could stop it, it dumped the pale blue liquid directly into the older woman’s lap.
“Oh!” Lady Whitethorn jumped off her chair with surprising agility. “My favorite tharp! You’ve drenched it in woo! Oh my poor darling. ” She caressed the tharp tenderly. “I’ve had it since it was a neophyte.”
Sophie’s anger evaporated immediately to be replaced by mortification. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, looking around for a napkin. “I didn’t mean to spill, uh, woo all over your dress…er tharp .”
Lady Whitethorn narrowed her eyes. “That’s quite all right, my dear. Of course one can’t expect good table manners from someone of your underprivileged background. Especially since you came here with a Kindred.”
“That Kindred saved my life,” Sophie said, her voice trembling. “His name is Sylvan and he’s brave and kind and considerate and—”
“I’m sure all that is perfectly true, dear.” Lady Whitethorn finished blotting at her tharp, which now had a light blue stain, and reseated herself in her tall chair. “So it’s a great pity that he’s foresworn himself of you, isn’t it?”
Sophie didn’t know what to say. Hot words came to her lips and she swallowed them down with difficulty. After all, Lady Whitethorn had her there—Sylvan had foresworn himself when it came to her—a fact that was making her more and more unhappy every time she thought of it. Even worse, when she looked up she saw that he and Feenah were talking. In fact, he appeared to be laughing heartily at something the lovely blonde girl had just said.
Just my luck, Sophie thought glumly. His ex is the Tranq Prime version of a supermodel and she’s apparently got a sense of humor too. Of course she also had a barracuda for a mother. Sophie was sure that one conversation with Lady Whitethorn would be enough to drive anyone away, no matter how beautiful and perfect Feenah was. She hoped so, anyway.
“Now, now,” Magistrate Licklow ventured, breaking into Sophie’s dismal thoughts. “I’m sure there’s no need for such distress over a simple accident. Let us move on with the feast—surely the fleeta pudding will be here soon.” As he spoke, a server appeared behind them and began placing thin stone plates filled with brownish-red mush in front of each guest.
Sophie looked down at the steaming pile on her plate with a sinking heart. Back on Earth one of her neighbors had a Great Dane and wasn’t very good about cleaning up the little “presents” it left behind. The food in front of her bore an uncanny resemblance to what she saw on the sidewalk every morning when she went out of her townhouse to jog.
“Mmm, delicious .” Magistrate Licklow had picked up a long, thin utensil shaped rather like a chopstick with a tiny spoon on the end and was digging into his own pile enthusiastically. “Try it, my dear,” he said, nodding at Sophie. “It’s a delicacy here on Tranq Prime—you might even call it our national dish.”
“Really?” Sophie picked up her own chopstick-spoon and began poking carefully at the steaming brownish mass. “Uh what did you call it? Some kind of pudding?”
“It’s fleeta pudding.” Lady Whitethorn took a dainty bite. Now that she’d had the last word, she appeared to be willing to speak to Sophie again. “Eat some,” she added. “Unless, of course, your civilized palate is too refined to appreciate such local fare.”
“I never said that,” Sophie said defensively. “In fact…” She swallowed hard. “It, uh… it looks like something I’ve seen very often on my own home planet.”
“Oh, you have a delicacy similar to ours?” Magistrate Licklow smiled. “See Lady Whitethorn? Earth must not be such a savage place after all.” He smiled at Sophie. “Go on, my dear. Have some and let us know how it compares to your own local dish.”
Both of her dining companions were watching her closely and Sophie felt trapped. Oh my God, I’m actually going to have to eat some! Taking a tiny spoonful, she brought it to her lips. She had been hoping it would smell better than it looked but unfortunately, it really didn’t. A thick, rotten aroma rose up to greet her, making her feel like she was going to gag.
“Go on,” the Magistrate urged again.
Just get it over with! Taking a deep breath (which she immediately regretted) Sophie popped the spoonful of fleeta pudding in her mouth and swallowed as fast as she could.
“Well?” Lady Whitethorn arched an eyebrow at her imperiously.
“D-delicious,” Sophie managed to say. Reaching for her glass, she took a huge gulp of the burning blue woo and prayed not to puke. Fire erupted in her stomach and her eyes watered so much she could hardly see, but at least the nauseating pudding stayed down.
“And was it very like what you have on your own home planet?” Magistrate Licklow asked, smiling.
“ Exactly like it,” Sophie assured him, wiping her eyes. Then, remembering the protein paste Sylvan had offered her back at the cabin she asked, “Uh, it’s not made of ground up bug larva, is it?”
“Most certainly not. ” Lady Whitethorn took another dainty bite and a sip from her glass, which the server had refilled.
“Oh good.” Sophie felt relieved. She was sure that if she knew what she’d eaten was bug larva she would have been sick all over the table.
“ Fleeta pudding is made from the mature insects themselves,” Magistrate Licklow added helpfully. “See? If you look closely you can see some of the legs—they add texture.” He poked at his own pudding, exposing a long, hairy chitinous leg. Plucking it out of the brown mass, he popped it into his mouth and crunched it up with obvious enjoyment. “Wonderful!”
Sophie’s stomach did a slow forward roll. Bugs. I just ate a spoonful of bug guts and there are legs in there too. The horrible, hairy many-jointed leg reminded her of the insects that lived in her native Tampa. Everyone called them palmetto bugs, but really they were just huge roaches that could fly. No matter how clean the house was, they still got in—especially during the rainy season. It was always horrifying to open a closet or push back the shower curtain and suddenly be confronted by one. But what kind of sick person would try making a pudding out of them? Oh my God, I’m going to puke. I can’t help it…
The only thing that saved her was her tharp. Ever since she had been seated at the table it had been making her itch. While she had tasted the bug pudding it had stopped for some reason. But now it started again, so fiercely that it actually took her mind off her stomach.
Sophie shifted in her chair. What is wrong with this thing? The worst part was that the itching was centered in some very private and delicate places. Ignorant of the Tranq Prime culture as she was, she was fairly sure it would be rude to scratch those areas in public. Putting her hands in her lap, she balled them into fists. Her tharp sleeves jerked and twitched as she clenched her teeth and told herself, I must not scratch. I must not puke. I must not—
“Well, well, my dear, I’m sure I find your, ah, offer most tempting. I mean, you’re quite a lovely female for an alien but I am a mated male ,” said a low voice in her ear.
Sophie’s eyes flew open and she saw that Magistrate Licklow was frowning at her.
“I’m sorry, what?” She looked at him uncertainly as she felt the sleeves of her tharp twitch again.
“I’m just saying that while I appreciate your offer of, ah, intimate relations, I must politely decline.” He cleared his throat. “So please stop touching me.”
“But I’m not!” Sophie was appalled. “What would make you think I was doing…doing something like that?”
“Because you are .” He was beginning to look red in the face—clearly something was happening beneath the table but Sophie had no idea what. Her hands were still fisted in her lap with the long sleeves of her tharp hanging down almost to the ground. They still seemed to be twitching a little but it was hard to tell when she was itching so abominably. Her knees were together and her feet were up on the bottom rung of her chair, so it wasn’t like she was playing footsie with the Magistrate. What was he talking about?
“I’m not,” she said earnestly. “I promise you. I would never—”
“Oh, shocking!” Unfortunately Lady Whitethorn had picked up on what was going on—or what the Magistrate thought was going on, anyway—and she was glaring at Sophie.
“No, really,” Sophie protested. “I don’t know what’s happening but I promise I have nothing to do with it. I’m not touching anybody, see?” She held her hands up high as proof…and the top of her tharp fell down to her naval exposing her bare breasts to the entire table.
There was a collective gasp and the other people seated at the table—none of which she’d been introduced to—apparently couldn’t decide if they ought to stare or look away. All eyes were fixed on her and for one awful moment Sophie was frozen to the spot.
Then her paralysis broke and she snatched hastily for the moss green tharp. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she gasped.
Both Lady Whitethorn and the Magistrate Licklow were still glaring at her. “I suppose it’s a quaint Earth custom to show your dining companions your endowments ,” Lady Whitethorn remarked acidly.
“No, honestly it’s not.” Sophie was still having trouble getting the tharp to stay in place. It kept wanting to slip down and expose her again. “That wasn’t on purpose.” But her words fell on deaf ears.
“Young lady, it may be considered proper to expose yourself and make sexual advances on your dinner companions on your planet but here on Tranq Prime, it is not .” Still giving her a dirty look, the Magistrate moved his chair very pointedly to the right, putting some space between them.
“But—” Sophie began helplessly.
“What’s going on? Is there a problem?” Zeelah suddenly appeared with a worried look on her face.
“No problem at all, Zeelah,” Lady Whitethorn said coldly. “Your important guest has just been entertaining us by fondling a public official and exposing herself to the entire dinner table. And that was after she doused my favorite tharp in woo. ”
“No I didn’t,” Sophie exclaimed. “I mean, my tharp fell down and I did spill woo on Lady Whitethorn but I didn’t fondle anyone .”
“You most certainly did!” Magistrate Licklow frowned. “It was terrible, Zeelah—she wouldn’t leave me alone even after I told her I was mated.”
“Really,” Lady Whitethorn sniffed. “I can’t believe you brought this person here to insult us like this. It’s inexcusable.”
“I’m sure Sophia didn’t intend to insult anyone.” Zeelah looked at Sophie warningly. “Did you, my dear?”
Up until now, Sophie’s tharp had been itching so badly she thought she was going to scream if it didn’t stop. But now, suddenly, it began to tickle her instead and Sophie was very ticklish.
“I…I…” It felt like a thousand tiny fingers were poking her in the ribs in just the right way. A snort of laughter escaped her and then another.
Lady Whitethorn gave her an incredulous look. “Are you actually laughing? You find this situation amusing?”
“N-no, no of course n-not. I…I…” But Sophie couldn’t go on. She dissolved into helpless giggles as the tickling became even stronger.
Zeelah took her by the arm and pulled her off the high chair. “My goddess, what is wrong with you? Are you drunk? How much woo did you have?”
“I…I only had half…half a glass of…of woo ,” Sophie gasped through her giggles. It felt like the tiny little fingers were squeezing her just above her knees—another terribly ticklish spot. “Please…can’t…can’t…” But she was doubled over laughing and couldn’t go on. It was dreadful, like some kind of nightmare, but she couldn’t stop, even though she knew she was adding insult to injury and offending her dinner companions and Sylvan’s aunt even more than she already had.
“Sophia? Are you all right?” The deep familiar voice in her ear made her look up.
Still laughing, she shook her head. “Sylvan…help…”
“I will if I can.” He sounded bewildered. “What happened to her?” he asked his aunt.
A barrage of answers greeted his question and Sophie got to hear all over again how she had groped Magistrate Licklow and flashed the entire table. She wanted to protest that none of it was her fault but she couldn’t stop laughing. By now her stomach hurt and her eyes were streaming but still the tickling went on. What was causing it? Was it a reaction to the steaming dog poop-looking food or the pale blue woo? Or was she just going crazy?
“All right, all right, thank you, everyone,” she heard Sylvan saying. “I’ll take care of Sophia and you can all go back to the feast.”
Sophie looked up to thank him, if she could stop laughing long enough, that was…and the tickling stopped abruptly. “Oh, thank God…” She sagged in relief and Sylvan caught her gently.
“Are you all right?” he asked again, looking at her anxiously.
“I am now.” Her words fell in complete silence and she realized that every eye in the entire grotto was trained on them. Oh my God, she thought dismally. She had caused such a scene that every single person at the feast had stopped to watch.
“Is your little friend quite all right, Sylvan?” It was Feenah, looking even more lovely close up. Standing, she was almost as tall as Sylvan. Her figure was so slender and perfect Sophie could almost feel her own hips growing wider by comparison.
“I think so.” Sylvan was still looking at Sophie with a perplexed expression on his face. “She seems to be now, anyway.”
“Is it normal for people from her planet to have fits?” Feenah asked in a soft, musical voice. “Or is it just her own little peculiarity?”
Sophie straightened up and glared at her. “I do not have fits.”
“Oh dear!” Feenah opened her crystal blue eyes wide in apparent concern. “Now I’ve upset her. Oh, the poor little thing!’
“Listen,” Sophie began, looking up at her. “Just because I’m not a freaking Amazon is no reason—”
“Stay away from her, my dear,” Lady Whitethorn was fluttering around her daughter anxiously. “I know she seems perfectly harmless, but I do believe she’s insane . She poured woo all over my lovely tharp and molested poor Magistrate Licklow.”
“For the last time,” Sophie said through gritted teeth. “I did not grope, fondle or molest anyone!”
The conversation around them, which had gradually begun to pick up, died abruptly again. Again Sophie felt like she was caught in the middle of a nightmare—the kind where you’re naked in front of everyone and can’t get away.
“Please,” she begged, looking up at Sylvan. “Please, can’t we just go? I have to get out of here.”
“Of course.” He swung her up into his arms, but before he could go anywhere, his aunt was at his elbow.
“You can’t take her back to our domicile,” she hissed. “I won’t have her in my home—not after this…this outburst. I won’t have it. She’s not welcome!”
“Oh yes she is!” Nadiah shouldered her way through the small crowd that had gathered between the tables. “She drank from the cup of hospitality, Mamam. You can’t kick her out.”
“What?” Zeelah rounded on her daughter in furry. “You let her drink from the cup?”
Nadiah raised her chin. “I did. And if you try to get rid of her now I’ll tell everyone how you’re an oathbreaker.”
“Why you…”
“Now, now my dear.” Grennly was suddenly there too, taking his wife by the arm. “I’m sure everything will be fine,” he said loudly. Then he murmured, “You’re only making things worse. Let Sylvan get rid of the blasted female and let’s go back to the feast.”
Zeelah looked like she’d been sucking a lemon but she finally nodded. “Of course.” Then she turned to Sylvan. “Take her back but keep her out of my sight. I’ll never live down this day. Never.” Grabbing Nadiah by the arm, she marched her away. As they left, Sophie heard her saying, “As for you, young lady, all your privileges are revoked for the foreseeable future.”
“Mamam!” Nadiah protested as they moved through the maze of tables.
“Well I suppose you’d better see your little friend home,” Feenah smiled winsomely up at Sylvan. Thankfully, her mother, Lady Whitethorn, had seated herself again and was talking in hushed whispers to Magistrate Licklow. “But I hope you’ll come back for the dance. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you and I was so hoping to be able to catch up a little more.”
Sylvan frowned. “I must see to Sophia first. She may be unwell.”
Feenah made a sympathetic face. “I’m sure the poor little darling just needs to rest. Didn’t you say she almost expired coming from your ship to the grotto?”
Sophie felt like she was going to explode with irritation. “My planet doesn’t get as cold as yours,” she told Feenah, pointedly.
“It’s true,” Sylvan said. “Sophie is not used to such extreme temperatures.”
“Of course she’s not—she’s so delicate.” Feenah made a kissy face at her that made Sophie’s hand itch to slap her perfect cheek. “And adorable too.” She looked up at Sylvan. “Why don’t you get your little pet bedded down for the night and come back for some fun?”
Sophie was fuming now. “I’m not a pet . I—” Just then the itching started again and she stiffened in Sylvan’s arms. “Sylvan, get me out of here now.”
Sylvan looked concerned. “I’m sorry, Feenah but I must go.”
“All right, but come back as soon as you can.” Feenah gave him a seductive smile. “I promise I’ll save a dance for you… Tanar .”
Sophie wanted to say something—what the hell did Tanar mean anyway—but the itching had turned to tickling again and she was trying not to laugh. Oh God, please—is this ever going to be over? Grimly she held in her giggles until Sylvan had carried her out of the grotto. Then, only a few feet away from the lighted archway she lost it completely.
* * * * *
“Sophia? Sophia, are you all right?” Sylvan was at a complete loss as to what to do. Sophia appeared to be having some kind of hysterics and in all his medical training, he’d never heard of a disease that manifested with uncontrolled laughter. Was it some kind of Earth pathology? “Sophia, please!” He shook her slightly and she writhed in his grasp.
“Put…down,” she gasped between gales of hysterical laughter. “Put me…d-down.”
“No.” Sylvan held her firmly. “I won’t let you go until I know what’s wrong.” Luckily the feasting grotto wasn’t far from his mother’s sister’s domicile. He was at least able to carry Sophia into the main corridor before she started writhing so wildly he couldn’t keep hold of her anymore. There, despite everything he could do, she shimmied out of his arms. Sylvan was forced to go to his knees to keep from dropping her. Then, to his dismay, she started ripping at her tharp.
“Sophia, stop! We’re still in public,” he protested. “At least wait until we get inside the domicile.”
“Can’t wait. Have to…have to get it off!”
She seemed so upset that Sylvan actually helped her, tugging at the moss green tharp, until it parted of its own accord and released her.
The minute Sophie got free of it she stopped laughing and sank to her knees, breathing hard. “Oh my God…wait a minute. Just wait a minute,” she gasped when Sylvan started toward her. “Just let me…catch my breath.”
She was distractingly naked but he was too worried about her to become aroused. At least the hysterics seemed to have stopped—but for how long? “Sophia?” he asked tentatively.
She looked up. “Okay. I can go inside now.” She struggled to get to her feet but Sylvan was already there, scooping her up again. Sophie laid her head on his chest like a tired child, still breathing hard.
Sylvan felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Gods, but she was so beautiful, so fragile! What if there was something seriously wrong? Thankful that Grennly had given him a key, he pulled it out and opened the door while holding her mostly one-handed. Then, still cradling her to his chest, he took her back to her room.
“Sundress.” Sophie lifted her head and looked around. “I want my sundress.”
Sylvan found the discarded garment and helped her put it on. Once she was covered and sitting up on the sleeping platform she seemed to feel better.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “And I’m sorry about all…that. Everything that happened.”
“What did happen?” Sylvan asked, sitting beside her. “Are you feeling all right now?”
“Much better.” She took a deep breath. “I think it was the dress. The tharp, I mean. But how can that be?”
Sylvan frowned. “What was it doing?”
“Tickling me. Making me itch unbearably . And the sleeves kept twitching too.” She shivered. “Do you think I’m allergic to the fabric, er fur it’s made of?”
“It’s not made of anything,” Sylvan said. “It’s a sentient being—well, semi-sentient, anyway. But I’ve never heard of anyone being allergic to one before.”
“What?” She looked shocked. “You mean I’ve been wearing something that’s alive all this time? Like…like some kind of animal ?”
“Of course. An animal with somewhat limited intelligence, but very useful nonetheless.” He looked at the moss green tharp which still dangled limply from his hand. “This one seems brighter than most but still—”
“You let me wear an animal? A live animal and you didn’t tell me?”
“I don’t understand why you’re upset.” Sylvan shook his head. “Don’t your people wear furs too? I know they do—I’ve seen females wearing fur coats and the like.”
“But they’re dead.”
“So you’d rather wear a dead animal than a live one?” Sylvan was still trying to understand.
“A dead animal can’t hurt you or tickle you until you laugh uncontrollably like a maniac.” Sophie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, her eyes blazing. “Or spill a glass of…of woo on the person beside you. Or fondle the other person beside you. Or decide to come down in the middle of a very public function and flash your ta-tas to everybody in the entire room!”
Sylvan frowned grimly. “I wondered what in the world Lady Whitethorn and Magistrate Licklow were talking about. I knew you wouldn’t…” He cleared his throat. “Make advances to someone who didn’t care to receive them.”
“Of course I wouldn’t!” Sophie exclaimed, her cheeks turning bright red. “I don’t understand, Sylvan—why didn’t you tell me about the tharp? That was awful .” Her voice broke on the last word.
Sylvan felt terrible. “I’m so sorry, Sophia,” he said. “I thought Nadiah would explain to you while she was getting you dressed. She was supposed to be certain that you were matched to a tharp that was compatible to you.” He held up the tharp and frowned at it. “Which this one clearly is not.”
Sophie sniffed. “She did say something about it not being the right one for me but I thought she didn’t like the color. I had no idea it would do such appalling things.”
“A mischievous tharp can be a lot of trouble but I’ve never heard of one behaving as badly as this one.” Sylvan frowned at the now quiescent animal again. “It must really dislike you.”
“Well the feeling is mutual, I assure you! Get rid of it!” Sophie drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I just can’t believe this. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.”
Sylvan sighed. “I’ll dispose of it immediately. Do you want me to kill it?”
Sophie bit her lip. “I…I don’t know. No, just…get rid of it.”
“Very well.” He nodded and turned to go. “It will die anyway once it’s away from you.”
“What? Hey, come back.”
Sylvan turned back to her. “Yes?”
“Why? Why will it die?”
“Even though you two are a bad match, it’s imprinted on you,” Sylvan explained. “ Tharps live by choosing a single host and drawing warmth from their skin. In conditions of extreme cold they multiply it and give it back, keeping their host warm—it’s the reason we cultivate them here on Tranq Prime. This one…” He shook the moss green tharp . “Won’t be able to take warmth and nourishment from anyone else.”
Her eyes widened. “So you’re saying that without me that…that thing will slowly starve to death?”
Sylvan nodded. “Yes.”
“Oh my God.” She put her head in her hands. “This is just too much— too much.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean for you to feel overwhelmed.”
She looked up, her eyes blazing. “Well then you should have told me about the tharp instead of assuming that someone else would. You should have told me I was picking out a lifetime companion and not just a dress to wear to a fancy banquet. Now I feel like somebody who picked a puppy up at the pound and decided to return it because it chewed up all my furniture and peed on my leg.”
Sylvan frowned. “What?”
“Just give it back. Give it here.” She gestured at the tharp.
“But I thought you hated it?”
“I do.” Sophia’s eyes filled with tears. “I hate this whole damn place. I hate the fact that you have live toilet paper and that you eat dog crap and bug guts for dinner and drink woo that looks like blue Kool-aid and tastes like somebody lit a blowtorch in your mouth. I hate the fact that it’s so damned cold outside I can’t get away. So I’m trapped here with your aunt and uncle, who can’t stand me, because the live clothing they gave me to wear made a fool of me in front of their entire community. And now I’m stuck with a pet I don’t want for…how long do they live?”
Sylvan cleared his throat. “The average tharp can live as long as its owner.”
“For life.” Sophia threw up her hands. “I’m stuck with a horrible, badly behaved pet I don’t want for the rest of my life! I hate it, Sylvan. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. And I just…just want to go home.” The last word ended on a sob and she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with the force of her tears.
“ Talana…” Sylvan put a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off.
“Just go away and leave me alone,” she whispered brokenly. “Go back to Feenah—that’s where you want to be.”
“That isn’t true,” Sylvan said in a low voice.
“Of course it is.” She looked up, her eyes red from crying. “I saw the way you two were looking at each other. Not that I can say anything, I know. But still…still…”
“Still what?” Sylvan’s heart gave a strange little thump. Could it be that she was jealous? That she cared for him after all? Enough that he didn’t want him to see Feenah?
But Sophia only shook her head. “Never mind. Just…go. Leave the tharp and go.”
Sylvan wanted badly to stay and comfort her. To cuddle her in his arms and whisper that everything would be all right. But from the look on her tearstained face his comfort wasn’t wanted right now. In fact, he was fairly sure that Sophia wouldn’t want anything to do with him or any of the rest of Tranq Prime for some time to come.
“Very well, Talana. Maybe we can speak later.” Sighing, he dropped the tharp at the foot of her sleeping platform and left the room.
What else could he do?