“I didn’t think my father would go so far,” she said when they were alone.

He ordered two drinks, a particularly potent red wine she knew could have her flat on her back after five swallows, and a clear glass of…

“Is this water?”

“Drink it,” he said. “You have chemicals in your system. You don’t want wine until they are flushed out.”

She took the water grudgingly, knowing he was right. He downed his red wine and ordered a second.

“Should you slow down on that?” she asked, eyeing him.

He snorted. “I am not a puny human female.” She didn’t have the energy to be offended. “And your father was being used. I suspect in his clumsy attempts to find a factor already on board he could use, he stumbled across a man in place by the Platon—and our enemies simply took advantage of the circumstances.”

Unease stirred. “So, they could have done something to me and made it look like my father ordered it?”

“Yes, or that something went wrong and your death was an accident of your struggles or some such.”

Gayle’s mouth tightened. “I’m going to have a talk with my mother. She has to put her foot down and nip this shit in the bud.”

His brow rose. “I’ve… met your mother.”

Gayle’s eyes slashed through his skeptical expression. “She fooled you, huh? She plays the silly trophy wife but she’s trained in law and history just like my father.”

“Interesting.” His eyes narrowed. “If I’ve overlooked her, I’ll rectify that mistake. If she’ll take your side against Bakari, she’ll be an asset we can use—if sparingly.”

“Let me talk to her first.”

* * *

“Mother.”

“Abigail.” Miranda looked surprised. “How in the universe did you manage to connect a call?”

“We’re docked at a space station for four hours loading new passengers and supplies. Look, there isn’t a lot of time in case this line is being monitored.” Ithann had warned her that even though they’d done everything they could to ensure it was secure, there were always those with better tech, sharper skills in infiltration.

“Mom, Dad tried to have me kidnapped and it almost got me killed.”

Her mother’s expression… altered. Just enough that Gayle caught the widening of her eyes and the tightening of her mouth. Miranda hadn’t known.

“What do you mean, Gayle?”

She explained the situation briefly, keeping her eyes glued to her mother’s face. “This is unacceptable behavior,” Miranda snapped. “This isn’t how we handle family disputes. It’s… savage.”

Count on her mother to be more upset that the method of dragging Gayle back in chains was uncivilized, rather than being upset at the idea period.

“If I confront him directly, he’ll transfer whatever operations I may have access to away from the house and his main office,” her mother said. “And I don’t know where his secondary location is.”

Gayle blinked. Her mother admitted so casually that her father had a secondary office location, the implication that it was for conducting less than squeaky clean business.

“Can you… find out?”

Cool dark eyes flickered away from the screen. “I have to go, Gayle. I’ll do what I can here. Be careful.”

* * *

She told Ithann about the conversation. “Good,” he said. “But this doesn’t change the fact that you need to accept your position here. You can’t go home, and on my planet, you will be in danger if you chafe at the temporary restraints I have to put on your movements.”

Her jaw ached from clenching. “I’m not going to keep having this argument, Ithann. I’m not locking myself up in your home.”

His hands wrapped around her upper arms and he shook her. Not hard, but with the impression he wanted to rattle her teeth in her head. She balled a fist as if to sock him a good one in the jaw and he let her go, catching her curled up hand.

“Stubborn female. When will you accept the way things have to be for now?”

She wrenched away. “Because it’s not the way things have to be. It’s the expedient way for you.”

He whirled away from her, stalking out of the room. “Since you won’t listen to reason—like a child—you can have supper in your room. Like a child.”

She rushed after him just as the door panel slid closed. And locked. She stared for one split second then took a step back and screamed with rage.

* * *

Mila grabbed her hands. “This is it.”

Their men stood behind them, silent as the shuttle descended. Mila and Jaron would be heading for their own province, two days’ distance in an individual transport.

Gayle squeezed. “We’re going to have to work out these flying arrangements,” she said again.

Mila nodded, eyes wide. The city loomed in front of them. It… sprawled. A few lofty towers covered in obsidian material that absorbed sunlight peaked through a blanket of multicolored trees, ranging from deep green to a pale blue with shades of buttery yellow and leaves tinged in soft pink. It was an explosion of color. Maybe that was why their architecture was so severe.

The buildings were almost all wood-colored, uniform, and decorations were subtle. There were few structures standing higher than two stories and as they flew closer to the ground, Gayle could tell they’d designed the city with space in mind. Space to wander, to have privacy, even when sitting in a cafe. Or so she imagined. She’d done plenty of reading, watched vids and swiped through picture files.

But this was the reality.

The shuttle landed and they disembarked into a private waiting area reserved for high-level dignitaries, wealthy, and the individuals who could pay for privacy. Ithann wanted her to have time to gather herself before thrusting her into the public.

Mila and Gayle stepped out of the shuttle first. The waiting area was more of an open courtyard enclosed with opaque glass walls. Natural light poured in from overheard and there were scattered benches. One of the walls slid open and she caught a glimpse of the main docking area beyond. People bustled here and there, some with luggage, some with bots trailing behind. Then it shut and the noise was ousted again.

“Mila,” Jaron said, voice grave.

Gayle hugged her friend. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m settled in.”

“Same.”

“And you’ll tell me when…” her eyes lowered to Mila’s abdomen.

“You’ll be the first to know.”

They parted, Ithann and Jaron speaking in low voices before clasping hands and returning to claim their females.

“We’ll make arrangements to meet soon,” Ithann said. “And if I can influence where he is permanently stationed… our province can always utilize another scientist.”

“Thank you,” Gayle said, refusing to look at him.

“Are you still angry?”

Was he still a jackass? “Of course, not.”

He grit his teeth. “Fine.”

Jackass led her to an antechamber rather than the main part of the port. “What are we doing here?” she asked, looking around.

“This is a changing suite,” he said. “We can don more appropriate attire before entering the public space.”

Gayle turned towards him. “Ithann… is it really that serious?”

“Yes. Word has traveled of my human bride. I may be a younger son, but I am still Bdahn. As soon as we step out, eyes will be on you.”

She folded her arms. “It’s not like my mother hasn’t spent years drilling ‘society’ down my throat.”

“Exactly.” The satisfaction in his voice set her teeth on edge. “You are poised, and naturally beautiful. You’ll be an asset.”

“And that’s all that matters, right?”

His expression was mild, for once. “No. But it’s enough for now.”

Evidently, the dresses she’d been wearing, and the pieces of jewelry, were only modest travel wear. The outfit they put her in after an attendant led her to a bathing room… stunned. The water-only bath with another skin scrub and hair treatment—brief but thorough—relaxed her. Ithann was in an adjacent sunken tub with his own attendant—also a female, which had almost sent Gayle to cussing, but the matter of fact demeanor of everyone in the room told her to cool her heels. Customs were different all over and he didn’t even glance at the female except to give brief directions on what accouterments to use.

Still. After today, no one else would be rubbing down his skin but her. It did bode well, though, for the mentality of the society that there wasn’t anything demasculinizing in a warrior who received beauty treatments.

The dress they put her in…

“Ithann, I can’t even walk in this.”

It was a long column of cream threaded with gold that offset her skin perfectly. Sleeveless, the top began right above her breasts where it was held up with a lariat-style necklace of gold and polished stones. It was nearly austere in its modesty, despite the snug mermaid fit—and lacked slits of any kind. She couldn’t walk more than a half step at a time.

“You cannot fight in it,” he corrected. “It’s a sign of respect that you would hamper your movements. We go to meet my parents.”

Oh. Well, that changed things. Her braids were coiled in an intricate style and cosmetics applied to her face. Nothing dramatic, though she noticed the Yadeshi tended to play up the eyes and cheeks if they did anything. Lips, they would leave mostly neutral.

“You have nice shoulders,” he added, eyes traveling over her body. “It’s an area many females neglect. Or so my mother always says.”

Her shoulders were nice. Toned, with just the right amount of muscle. Her skin gleamed from a lightly scented oil. Ithann approached her, a box in his hand.

“You must wear these. If we were bonded, it wouldn’t be necessary.”

The box revealed two sets of bangles. Gold again, the metal twisted in a distinct pattern of loops and swirls.

“What do they mean?” she asked. The way he’d spoken, she was sure the jewels wasn’t just for decoration.

“The pattern belongs to my family and is discernible. The gold says you are a concubine, and the number of bracelets declares you are the concubine-wife of a warrior of highest rank.”

He explained this all, his voice detached, as he slipped them over each of her wrists. Gayle began to pull away and his hand clasped her arm.

“You cannot refuse to wear these, Gayle. It’s the law, not just a custom. And for your own protection. Human women are… popular here. Some of the warriors misunderstand their manners at times.”

Misunderstand. That sounded like code for human women were considered free for all. She grimaced. It wasn’t unexpected. Any culture—especially on Earth—tended to consider women outside its social structure as open season. Usually because men wanted easy sex and no consequences.

“What’s wrong, Gayle? Your face has gone dark.”

She told him.

His brow rose. “That isn’t your problem, however. I am attempting to be responsible for you.”

Gayle scowled. And wasn’t that the crux of the real issue? She didn’t want anyone responsible for her. She wanted to walk out of the port, into the society and just… walk into a readymade life. She sighed. Which was stupid. She needed time to acclimate herself, time to learn the culture, the language, the laws. Time to find friends and start a career and apply for any education she might need. There was no way she could just start a new life with the snap of her fingers. At least Ithann was offering her food, clothing, shelter, and protection while she got her feet under her.

Maybe she should stop whining and be patient, like he’d said. Meet the parents, get the lay of the land. Make plans not predicated on the necessity of having to eat.

She squared her shoulders. “Fine. I’m being childish. But we both understand what the endgame is, correct?”

“I didn’t want you because I thought you were weak, or needed to be cloistered. In time, the entire province will kneel at your feet.”