Vera clenched her fists at her sides and stared at the wooden door. What had she been thinking, trying to get under his skin that way? She’d never been a manipulative kind of girl, preferring to use logic and reason. But something about Rayner made her turn into a quivering mound of jelly. A tingle raced through her core as she recalled his hands molding against her waist, fingertips stroking the skin, and the distinct bulge she’d felt while sitting on his lap …

Pull it together, Vera. She shook her head violently to clear the memories. This was no time to let herself be run by hormones. Niva lay in the other room, traumatized by these very aliens.

Stomping back to the bedroom, she found the girl tying the skimpy skirt around her waist. Niva looked up, her eyes brimming with tears, her face blotchy with bruises. “They really expect us to wear these scraps?”

“I think so.”

“I …” Niva trembled, shaking so hard her teeth began to chatter. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Vera crossed the room in two long-legged strides and pulled the girl against her chest. Niva clung to her, sobs choking off in her throat. “It’s okay,” Vera said. “You’re okay.”

In the other room, Vera heard a rustle of fabric before a woman with chapped red cheeks and eyes slightly too big for her face entered the bedroom. Gaze scathing as she took in the two humans, the woman stood with her hands on her hips. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Vera pushed Niva behind her back. “Where did you come from? How the hell did you get in here?” The front door hadn’t moved; it was still closed behind Rayner’s angry departure. The woman had appeared out of nowhere.

“The tunnels. And don’t use that language with me. You’ve already made me late.”

Vera didn’t move. “Are you the keeper Rayner said was coming? Decallian?”

Dressed in a long, neutral tunic that covered her entire lumpy body, Decallian narrowed her squinty eyes. “You are to address your benefactor as sir or, if you must, Beta. You may address me as Keeper.”

“Benefactor? Is that what he’s called?” Vera raised a brow at the woman.

The instructor acted as if she hadn’t spoken. “You two come with me. I won’t be made even later.”

“Niva is injured. She needs to rest.”

The keeper regarded Niva with cold eyes. “We have no room for weaklings among the clan. Either she earns her keep, or she doesn’t eat.”

Vera’s entire body flushed with indignation. “She’s not a weakling. One of your men attacked her. She deserves a chance to recover.”

The ice in the woman’s eyes melted a fraction, and her face softened, making her look almost grandmotherly. “I see. I’d heard something about that in the kitchens. Very well. She may stay here for now.” As if the near-kind words were an affront against her very nature, Decallian resumed her glower and pointed a stubby finger at Vera. “But you will have to instruct her to keep up with our lessons.”

“Fine.” Vera said, grateful Niva had the chance to rest. She nudged the young girl back toward the bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back in a bit.” Then, in a lower voice so the keeper couldn’t hear, she added, “Lock the bedroom door.”

Niva nodded, lip caught between her teeth.

Decallian led the way out of the bedroom and stopped beside a swath of fabric covering a section of the wall. Vera had never paid it any mind because it fit in with the hodgepodge furnishings of a man who’d lived alone all of his adult life. The keeper swished the fabric back to reveal a smooth-surfaced tunnel that descended into the rock of the mountain’s exterior. “These are the servant tunnels. You are to use them whenever possible to keep yourself out of the way of those with important business.”

Holding back a sarcastic retort, Vera followed her into the tunnel, which immediately turned into a curved set of stairs, the light growing dimmer and the air more dank as they descended into the mountain. Before they went too deep, the tunnel leveled back out and opened into a wider, brightly lit corridor. The scent of cooking meat wafted through the space, along with the surging mass of voices and clanging pots. From various doors and branches off the central corridor, people—servants, Vera corrected herself—rushed about, carrying food or empty plates or bundles of laundry or various other staples of daily life. They were all wearing scraps of cloth, though none seemed to care about the amount of flesh flashing beneath the glow worms’ light.

Vera watched all the activity, gawking. If the plaza’s market had been the hub of life for the higher-class aliens, then this space was the epicenter for the servants.

Decallian raised her voice above the clamor to say, “You will report here each morning for your benefactor’s breakfast. It should be waiting for him in his quarters upon awakening. It will be hot. Not warm. Do you understand?”

“Only the hottest for my benefactor,” Vera said, mapping the corridors in her mind as they walked. Her eyes went back to the lighting above their heads. “Do the worms mimic daylight hours, or are they glowing constantly?”

“The servant tunnels are adequately lit at all hours,” Decallian answered without slowing. And without really answering the question, Vera thought.

They reached a pond fed by two waterfalls, which, if Vera’s internal directional sense was accurate, were fed by the river she’d seen yesterday on her walk to Rayner’s. The air was more humid here, and steam rolled over the water’s surface. Servants lined the pond’s stony banks with their arms elbow-deep in sudsy laundry. Several paused to stare with hostile expressions at Vera and her escort. “This is where you will wash your benefactor’s linens.” Decallian pointed to the waterfalls. “That side is hot, and that one is cold. There is a drying area over there.”

Barely pausing for Vera to look around, the keeper continued walking. Between keeping up with Decallian and the humidity, Vera was beginning to understand why many of the servants might prefer the more revealing clothing. Already, sweat coated her exposed skin.

Down another set of tunnels, the scent of food intensified until they entered a huge kitchen. What seemed like miles of countertops were covered in varying stages of food preparation, from skinned carcasses of unidentifiable beasts waiting to be carved into steaks, to surfaces overflowing with chopped green vegetation. Decallian wove through the swarming workers and paused at an oven built into one wall. The flushed young man working there had just removed several steaming loaves of bread.

“Your benefactor prefers the darker bread, without seeds, for his table.” Decallian pointed to a round loaf with a crisscrossed pattern on top. “At the next hearth, we have …” She stretched to look into one of the pots sitting on the hot surface. “Stewed pryll meat today. You will need to clarify with him his preference for fruta and nuts on a daily basis.”

Vera picked up a loaf of bread, raising it to her nose for a deep sniff. The unfamiliar grains had a bitter note, a little bit like coffee, combined with the familiar sour hint of yeast. Saliva filled her mouth. Rayner had sent for a basket of food last night, which she and Niva had devoured, but she was still hungry.

Before she could tear off a chunk, Decallian took the loaf from her and set it back on the cooling rack. “You are only to eat the portions your benefactor provides after his meal is over, and you are never, ever to eat in his presence. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Vera said, feeling the bread maker’s eyes on her. Sweat ran in rivulets between her breasts, and he tracked each drop with lip-licking focus.

Decallian continued onward, showing Vera the cellars where the ale and mead were kept, the larders where Vera was to turn in any game Rayner brought back from his hunts, and the mechanical rooms where she could seek assistance should any of the household amenities need maintenance. Everywhere they went, Vera felt the unfriendly eyes of other servants following her, along with the male servants’ unabashed stares. Were they really that prejudiced against a human when they all looked just as human as she did?

By the time they were finished, Vera was completely lost, and her bare feet ached from what felt like miles of walking through the stone corridors deep within the vast mountain.

They ended at the pond again, and Decallian said, “Your benefactor is working, so you can make yourself useful at the laundry.”

She deposited Vera at the bank near a stack of dirty linens that was almost as tall as Vera. “I have to do all of this?” Vera asked in shock.

“You’ll have some help,” the keeper said.

Just then, from across the pond, a young female voice called, “Vera!”

She looked up to see Rebeka, the strawberry blonde from the ship, along with the group of human women being led by another alien servant. The women all wore scraps like Vera, their bodies on display for all to see. She noticed the women got as many hateful looks as she had.

A hand gripped Vera’s forearm. She glanced back to find Decallian step closer to her. In a quiet voice, she said, “If you’re thinking about escaping, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

Vera’s eyes stretched wide at the warning. “What will happen?”

“Exile.”

“Really?” Her heart quickened with hope. Exile sounded perfect.

As the women rounded the edge of the pond, Decallian added, “It’s not what you think. Maybe you could make it somewhere safe before the Draqons or Katu found you, but those women”—Decallian nodded toward the approaching women—“would be dead in a day. Whether you want to admit it or not, Clan Vilka is the safest place for a group of pretty human women. You need to get that in your head before you get them killed.”

With that, the keeper straightened her tunic and waddled away. Vera watched her go, her mind tumbling over the woman’s words. She almost fell over when someone pulled her into a tight bear hug.

“You’re alive!” Rebeka said against Vera’s ear, squeezing her tighter. “I’ve been so worried about you and Niva! Do you know what happened to her?”

“Niva’s okay. She was found in time.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Rebeka released Vera and stepped back. Vera nodded at the other women, who all looked exhausted and terrified. Some looked like they hadn’t stopped crying, while others looked hollowed out, gutted, and empty.

“Let’s sit here and talk some,” Vera whispered. She nodded at the laundry. The other women shuffled around to take a seat at the pond’s edge beside Vera and Rebeka. They took up a linen each and set to work. “How are you?” Vera asked, her hands prickling as she submerged them in the hot water. “Are you being treated well?”

“They put me in a dorm near the hydroponics and had me hand-squashing caterpillars as if they don’t know about pesticides or something.”

Vera scrubbed at a stain as the other women spoke of their assignments. She listened intently, but thankfully, no one had any horror stories like Niva’s to tell. They all seemed to be taken care of, at least on the basic necessities level. None had been beaten or abused, and they’d all been fed. Vera let out a little sigh of relief.

“We need to make a plan to get out of here,” Rebeka hissed. The other women nodded in agreement. “This place is barbaric! We shouldn’t have to wear clothes like this. Have you seen the way the other servants look at us? They hate humans. It’s only a matter of time before something horrible happens.”

“Okay, calm down. We have—”

“How can I possibly calm down? Look at us!” Rebeka gestured to the group’s skimpy clothing, her voice rising and attracting the attention of nearby servants. “Isma has a daughter back home! We all have families who are probably worried sick. We have to leave. Now!”

“Slow down.” Vera sat aside the stain-free linen and picked up another. “And keep your voice down. I know you’re scared, but we’re safe for now. Rayner says—”

“Who’s Rayner?”

“He’s the man I work for.”

“More like the monster you work for. Nothing about these creatures is human.” Rebeka frowned, deep furrows forming between her light-colored brows. “Wait, do you mean the Beta? I’ve heard his name before.”

“He’s treated me fairly, and he rescued Niva. I think if I can talk to him some more, I might convince him to help us leave.”

Rebeka’s eyes flared with hope. The other women stirred behind her, casting glances at each other. “You think he really will?”

Vera nodded, hoping she was right about him. “He’s kind and genuinely regrets what happened to us. But we have to be careful with our actions here. If they think we’re trying to escape, they might exile us.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. We get out of the mountain, and we find some way to get a message back home.”

“I don’t think it would be that easy,” Vera said, remembering Decallian’s warning. The older woman didn’t seem inclined to hand out words of wisdom very often. “I’m trying to collect information on this planet, but it seems there are really awful clans out there who will treat us far worse than the Vilkas if we’re caught. We need to use the exile escape plan as a last resort.”

“Okay. So what now?”

“Keep our heads down,” Vera said. She met all the women’s eyes until they nodded. “Don’t do anything rash. We need to stick together and try to find out as much information about this place and the outside as possible.”

“Good.” Rebeka splashed her hands into the water, angrily scrubbing at the cloth. “We get a plan together, and then we get the hell off this freaking planet.”

* * *

At the end of the day, Vera left the women and a clean pile of laundry to report back to the kitchens, where she assembled a meal basket to take back to Rayner’s house.

The bread maker from earlier handed her a loaf of the dark bread to put in her basket. When he didn’t release it, Vera looked up at him, cocking a brow. “Problem?” she asked.

“Why don’t you come back here after dinner and we get to know each other?” The young man grinned at her, his beard patchy with youth, his hands covered in flour as he swiped at his running nose.

Vera jerked the bread from his grip. “Why don’t you get to know your hand better instead?”

She stalked off as the man’s face burned red with anger. It probably wasn’t the best idea to piss off her fellow servants, but after the long day, she really didn’t care.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, she snuck a sliver of dry meat from the basket to nibble on during her way back. Refusing to meet any of the judgmental gazes of her fellow servants, she marched back toward the central corridor, only getting turned around once.

As she rounded a corner, she bumped into a child carrying a basket of clothes as tall as he was. The basket went flying, and pristine white fabric fluttered to the rough stone floor.

“Oh, excuse me!” Vera bent to help pick up the clothes.

The little boy scurried to gather the items as well, tiny whimpers echoing at the back of his throat.

“It’ll be all right,” Vera soothed, shaking out a shirt and folding it as neatly as it had been.

“There can’t be a smudge of dirt.” The little boy spread a section of cloth, examined it closely, and promptly burst into tears.

Vera looked closer, spying a barely noticeable gray smudge marring the cloth. Nothing a child should be forced to worry over. This close to the boy, she noted his narrow features were more gaunt than they were slender, and a line of yellowing bruises in the shape of someone’s fingers dotted his forearm. She went to touch the bruises, but the boy flinched away. “Did your mas—your benefactor do this to you?”

“If she finds any stains, she takes it out of my wages.” The child sniffled.

Vera lifted the basket, holding it against one hip, and took the boy’s small hand with her free one. “I’m the one who made the mess, so let me help you clean it up.”

Only two articles of clothing had even the smallest speck of dirt, and she helped him spot clean them back at the laundry, showing him how to blot the area using another clean cloth she’d begged off a nearby woman. The woman watched Vera closely, but said nothing. At least she wasn’t scowling, which Vera saw as an improvement of sorts.

When she’d helped the boy get his laundry back in order and he’d scampered off into the tunnels, she picked Rayner’s food basket back up and retraced her path to the central corridor. It was late, and she passed few servants. They were most likely assisting during dinner in their benefactors’ homes.

Eventually, Vera reached the top of the tunnel into Rayner’s house. Entering from behind the swath of silk, she pulled another bit of meat from the basket before setting it on the small table in the front room.

“Niva?” she called. “I have some food for you.”

The bedroom door was open. Vera went inside, glancing around. But Niva wasn’t in sight. “Niva?”

Vera went to the bathroom and peeked inside. No sign.

Her heartbeat quickened. Had Drausus returned for more? She scoured the rooms again. Then she went outside, circling the nearby alleys to no avail.

Niva was gone.