“Gayle, not that I don’t love having you here,” Ravetha said, sitting down at the table with a mug of steaming gahwah, a spiced beverage infused with a nut-based milk, “but when are you going home?”

Gayle stared into her own mug. She’d been ‘staying’ with Ravetha for a little over two weeks now. And Ithann hadn’t said a word. Not a call, not an email. Her guards—even the visible ones—were gone. Misery was a familiar pit in her stomach. He’d just… abandoned her. And she was too proud to ask him to work things out.

When had she fallen so hard in love? She’d lusted from the beginning, enjoying the challenge and entertainment of his sarcastic exterior, when she was used to men who were faultlessly polished and polite and never spoke their minds. At first it had been an amusement to prove she could make him want her. But over the course of weeks, she’d grown to like him. He worked the students hard, and was as mean as a snake on occasion. But he worked as hard as they did- she’d seen his training regime. He’d treated Gayle like a real warrior in training. Had dangled an impossible standard of performance in front of her and then forced her to meet it. Had expected her to meet it.

And somehow she’d crossed the line from thinking they’d make a good match to feelings being involved.

Now it was too late. “I don’t think we’re married anymore.” She blinked several times.

Ravetha’s brows shot up. “You can’t just get unmarried.”

“He told me that being a concubine means the paperwork to split is easy. My guards are gone.”

Ravetha frowned. “Are you sure about that?”

“I used to see them all the time and now I don’t see anyone. And I’ve looked.”

Her new friend chewed on her lip. “I won’t pretend the Bdahns aren’t fickle, but…”

Gayle sighed. “I know I need to look for a place. I haven’t been in the mood.”

Ravetha reached out a hand and squeezed her wrist. “Take your time. If you think he has abandoned you, and it isn’t just an argument you’re avoiding resolving, then stay as long as you need.”

She should call Mila. But she hadn’t wanted to disturb her best friend with bad news. Just a few days ago, Gayle had received a vid message—Mila’s treatments had born fruit, even earlier than expected. Jaron was monitoring the progress of the embryo, and they were hoping to get past the risky twelve-week period of a pregnancy.

“Well,” Gayle began, when her tablet chimed. She grimaced when the face swam in the screen. “Lady Ythana.”

“Abigail,” Ythana said, pleasant. Even sweet. “Daughter. I’ve just had a discussion with my son.”

Hell.

* * *

Ithann looked up from his device as the door slid open. He rose immediately. “Mother. Would you like a cup of—”

She slapped him.

He froze. It hadn’t really hurt, but his mother hadn’t raised a hand to him since he’d snuck out of the house to play sex games with his first female.

“Mother?”

“I’ve had enough of your childishness,” she snapped. “Where is Gayle?”

His jaw locked. “That’s none of your business.”

Her eyes widened, a hand resting on her chest. “The last time I looked, my son, I was still First Bdakhun of Doshen House. Everything is my business.”

He sat without her permission, enjoying the brief spurt of satisfaction the unforgivable rudeness gave him. And avoided her eyes. “Gayle left me.”

“Why would she do that, Ithannous?”

“Why don’t you ask her? Ask her why she refuses the bond—why she refuses to have a child!”

Ythana stilled. “Did she say she refuses to have a child?”

He couldn’t lie. Not even to strengthen his argument. “No. She said to wait a year.”

“Is that unreasonable?”

His hands clenched on his thighs. “She refuses the bond. The only thing left is a child.”

Ythana sat, utterly graceful. “Ithann. No one will challenge her legal right to remain here even if she doesn’t have a child. You have time.”

“But what if she changes her mind?” Did no one understand? Was no one thinking? “She’s doing everything, going everywhere. She has no time for me and she barely even comes to my bed anymore. What if she decides she doesn’t want to be my wife?”

Ythana laughed. Ithann inhaled, struggling to restrain a few choice words behind his teeth. His mother. He couldn’t disrespect his mother.

“Males are so sensitive—and insecure. It would be adorable, but in a grown warrior, it’s just annoying.” She sighed. “Ithann, Gayle is a very young woman, recently released from her fetters. She’s exploring a new environment with all the pleasure and wide-eyed innocence of a… kitten. That’s right, yes? Kitten? She hasn’t forgotten you; you are simply not the center of her universe. And you should not be.” Ythana’s look was frank. “You’re young, so you think you want a woman slavishly devoted to you, but trust me. The novelty would wear off and you would be seeking every opportunity to flee her. The more she has to do, the less work you have to keep her happy.”

He wasn’t stupid. He’d considered all of that. But Jaron’s female had bonded to him in a matter of weeks. “Why won’t she bond?”

“It takes time, son. Sometimes a great deal of time. Does she feel that you love her? Does she feel utterly confident in your support, your fidelity? Where is she now?”

He remained silent. Ythana rose. “Exactly. Go get your female, Ithann.”

Damnit. “I don’t really know where she is. I was angry and pulled her guard detail.”

“You… you…” She stared at him for one long second then turned and left the room, shutting the door quietly.

Ithann winced. She might as well have slammed it.

* * *

She was determined to put him out of her mind. Time, if nothing else, would heal the gaping absence of the man she’d become so used to, so quickly.

Ravetha’s flat was situated in a district catering to singles and young couples. Gayle enjoyed the lifestyle, the convenience of stepping right outside and walking a few blocks to an urban hydro garden to choose fruits and vegetables directly from their tanks and squares of soil. Most of the housing in this section consisted of one and two-bedroom units on top of storefronts. Restaurants, salons, tea, and coffee shops—they had a different word for their steamy, eye-jolting morning beverage, but Gayle called it coffee—and mini theaters and lounges offering both day and evening entertainment. The district never really went to sleep, but because of ordinances, there was little to no vehicle traffic. Only delivery vendors could drive down the narrow streets in company transports.

By this time of morning, the first of the workday rush had ended. Normally, she was out first thing with everyone else, embroiled in the bustle of beginning the day, but she’d gotten a late start.

Which was probably why her shoulders began twitching before she’d gone even a block. She knew it wasn’t Ithann’s guards—it wasn’t that kind of tingle, and they had a certain formation. But she knew she was being watched, followed.

Her mind examined and discarded several possibilities. A secret admirer too shy to approach the human woman? A vid blogger wanting the scoop on her breakup—or out of the loop that she and Ithann had broken up?

That it could be an enemy of Ithann’s was also considered and discarded. She was of no consequence, and clearly her would-be husband didn’t value her since he’d pulled the guards and not communicated with her. She hadn’t heard he was dead—he knew where she worked. So, there was no reason for her to be a target of the Platon or anyone else.

Gayle shifted the basket on her right arm to her left, casual, and continued her pace, stopping occasionally to look at displays in windows. Subtly slowing in the hope the stalker would come closer. A casual glance around revealed a few people across the street walking the opposite direction. No one behind her. Not a jostle from the corner of her eye. Which only meant the person was good.

She continued to the urban garden, chose her produce in the exact manner she normally would, and left. But this time, she broke routine and changed her home route. This would either spook the tail, or spur him into making a move.

Gayle turned down a narrow side street between buildings (an alley, but the Yadeshi had actual names for theirs, and kept them clean) and slowed her pace. The other side of the alley was a quieter block and lined one of the many forested walking trails in the city. Evidently, they didn’t worry about muggers much, as there was plenty of man-height foliage on the paths, and low benches set away from foot traffic for people to sit and have a moment’s quiet.

A whisper of movement alerted her, barely a split second of warning. Instead of dropping her groceries, she whirled, aiming the produce-laden basket at the height where a head should be even as she swept her leg out in a kick.

She recognized the leanly muscled arms, the nearly human undertones to the blue-tinged skin and knew a moment of true fear. There was no Ithann to send guards to back her up.

And the assailant wasn’t playing with her this time. She defended herself for two minutes, counting the ticking seconds grimly by the number of Forms he countered. She should have paid more attention to Ithann’s training. She was good for her experience level, but not good enough to save her own life against a warrior who’d trained his entire life.

Not good enough to save her own life.

A series of blows and Gayle was bent over, unable to breathe. He made short work of disabling her, wrenching arms behind her back to secure her wrists. When her breath returned, she opened her mouth to scream.

“None of that,” he said in a low whisper, “or I’ll use the needle on you. My apologies.”

An assassin who apologized? But if he was a professional, it wasn’t personal. She wheezed then managed to speak.

“Who hired you?”

“My apologies. I cannot disclose that information. Walk. No noise, please.”

He hauled her to her feet and nudged her into the heavy brush. She walked for a few steps and then shifted. He countered the beginning of her move again.

“I understand you feel you must try to escape,” he said in her ear, his voice no longer quite as pleasant, “but out of respect for your station, I am attempting to extend you some courtesy. Do not abuse my good nature.”

She heard the warning loud and clear. He could nip any move she had in the bud, but he was allowing her to move under her own power, remain conscience as a courtesy.

“I’ve always been taught to never let a kidnapper take you from the scene of the crime or you’re dead,” she said, keeping her voice quiet to not piss him off.

He chuckled. “Good advice. But this scenario is a bit different. My apologies, Bdakhun—”

The assassin shoved her to the side and whirled. Gayle rolled several times to make sure she wasn’t underfoot of the sudden fight and lurched to her feet.

“Ithann!”

A hand grabbed her upper arm, yanking her back. “This way, Bdakhun. I’m required to see you to safety.”

“Let go of me!” How dare they? “Were you guys shadowing me the whole time? I thought you were all gone.”

Her guard said nothing, just continued to herd her. “If you don’t stop, we’re going to fight,” she said in a low, vicious tone. “I want to see the fight.”

He halted, and Gayle realized her wrists were free. She turned back to watch Ithann and the assailant. They moved almost too fast for her human sight, feet silent but kicking up dirt and trampling plants. She glimpsed three more guards, not interfering.

Ithann executed a blow and the assassin went down. Ithann moved as if to rip the hood from the man’s face when he threw up an arm, speaking rapidly. Ithann paused, completely still, then nodded and made a gesture. Stepping back, he allowed one of his warriors to secure the assassin, and glanced towards Gayle.

After a brief, searing look, he walked towards her. Anger, hurt, disbelief rose in her throat. Leave her alone all this time, not even an email, and suddenly he wanted to act all alpha and concerned.

She turned and ran. She didn’t want to see him, talk to him. She didn’t want anything to do with him.