Remy
That morning, as we were making our bunks at dawn, I’d whispered low enough for only Linette to hear.
“How is Jacob?”
“Don’t worry about him,” she snapped under her breath. “Focus on your own self. What have you learned at the big house?”
Her dismissiveness irritated me, but I went on. “Senator Navis is their leader. They call him Bahntan.”
She stilled for a moment, and then without looking at me, continued to tuck her blanket into the mattress. “Figures, the fucking serpent. What exactly are you doing up there?”
I nodded down at my heavy bag laden with materials. “Teaching their children.”
Her face screwed up into a snarl for a fraction of a second and then fell into smoothness again. “Keep your eyes open and your ears alert. Be like a fly on the wall. Then tell me every detail.”
I nodded, and when I turned to go she grabbed my wrist and looked at me with something feral in her eyes. “Every. Single. Detail.”
Nodding again, I yanked my arm away. Just in time too, because a female guard stuck her head into the room at that moment to hurry us along. I wished I could explain to Linette that I wasn’t exactly in the thick of things over at the palace. I was going to be hanging out with the freaking children all day. It’s not like I’d have run of the place. And my mind didn’t work like hers. I wasn’t sneaky and suspicious. Still, I’d do my best.
I met the guards at the gate and they drove me over to the palace. I still found it freakishly odd when I walked into the large children’s room, and every single one of them looked up from what they were doing, stopped without second thought, and came straight over to their desks. There were no hyper movements in their group like you’d have with a bunch of human kids. No swinging legs or fidgeting. They sat still and watched me, ready for instruction.
They were really cute, though, and I was desperate to have this gross feeling go away. I hated being freaked out by them.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Good morning, Ms. Haines,” they chanted in unison.
“While I work on reading with the preschoolers, I’ll have the elementaries working on memorizing the threes and fours on the multiplication charts—here are some flashcards to quiz one another—and the olders will read chapter three in your Earth science book.”
Bam. Books opened. Faces tilted down to read and study. I swallowed and turned my attention to the littles. On the first day when I asked them to sit on the carpet with me, they were confused by my desire for them to be comfortable in the learning setting. They each glanced at the desks, then the Bael overseers around the room, who were busy straightening up. They eventually settled, sitting cross legged like me, and focused as I went through the alphabet. Every one of them was able to recite the alphabet by the end of day one.
Today we were working on simple three and four letter words. When I paused, I heard one of the elementaries politely call my name from the other group, so I looked over.
“What should we do when we finish?”
All of them were sitting there, done. “You memorized the threes and fours already?”
“Yes, Ms. Haines.”
I gaped. Good gosh, they all had genius memories and learning capabilities.
“Well, I suppose you can continue through the chart, memorizing as much as you can until I finish here and get to you.”
They seemed relieved, diving back into their charts.
Meanwhile, the toddlers and preschoolers needed only minor help from me. Once I helped to pronounce something or explain something once, they grasped it and moved on.
When the child closest to me finished, I lowered my voice and asked her, “Milna, do you speak and read a Baelese language, too?”
“Yes, Ms. Haines,” she said in her soft, sweet voice with little variation in tone. “But we are not allowed to speak our language to humans.”
“Oh.” I forced a smile. “Of course not.”
I reached out and touched a piece of her chestnut hair. She went very still at the contact.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling away.
“I am not upset, Ms. Haines. If you want, you may touch my hair.”
Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought her invitation held a hint of hope. But still, she looked kind of stiff as I reached out again, taking the strand and twirling it in my fingers. After a moment, her shoulders relaxed. When I released the strand of hair, it was in a perfect, thick spiral. I stared at it, remembering what we’d been told, that their hair was shapable. It was like tiny strands of silky wire. I had an overwhelming desire to play with her hair and do amazing things to it. Instead I clasped my hands in my lap.
“Ms. Haines,” snapped a voice, followed by the clip of high heels. I stood and faced Vahni. Before I could say a word, she said, “Do not touch the children.”
“Oh.” My blood heated with irritation. “I’m sorry—”
“Baelese do not require contact the way humans do. In fact, we find it a distraction.” She shot an angry glance down at little Milna, who tucked her head down in shame, pulling the curled strand into a straight line again. It boiled my blood further.
“How are the studies going?” she asked.
“Great.” As if she had any cause to worry. “They’re all fast learners, as I’m sure you know.”
“Compared to humans, yes.” She looked down at the children, oblivious as to how my skin prickled and my teeth grinded together.
Apparently satisfied, she walked away, leaving me to compose myself with several deep breaths. I left the littles, turning on a learning video so I could focus on the elementaries. It turned out that they really, really loved timed multiplication quizzes. We spent the next hour doing those, and I had to laugh at their enthusiasm and competitiveness.
“Again!” the boy Zorion said after each quiz.
After the fifth one, Zorion paused and said matter-of-factly, “Humans make strange sounds.”
Huh? I pondered this, wondering what sound I had made.
“It is called laughter, Zorion.”
The children and I all raised our gazes to Senator Navis, who’d snuck up on us. Their little mouths parted in their versions of excitement, and even my own heart pounded to see him standing there so close.
He squatted near me, but kept his distance. “When humans are happy and amused, they make a sound called laughter. It is reactionary. And each human’s laughter sounds different. They cannot help the sound they make. It is part of their nature.”
How strange that they don’t understand the concept. And I hadn’t even realized I’d been laughing.
“Did you learn to laugh, Bahntan?” asked another boy.
“I did,” the Senator responded. “I still do on occasion. I have many human habits.”
My stomach soured, remembering that everything about him was a lie. The worst kind of trickery. The children listened with hero worship.
“I have come to tell you it is time for lunch,” he told the children. “You may go.”
The children rose, all jutting joints, and left us. When the Senator turned his eyes on me, I began collecting papers. I felt him watching me.
“All of them are doing very well,” I said.
“And how about you, Ms. Haines?” The genuine kindness in his voice made me pause, and I hated myself for the feelings of longing that filled me, for the urge and desire I had to sit and talk with him. I wanted to soak in his fake interest. I needed to talk to someone. To laugh and touch and be alive.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Fine.” The Senator moved closer, but still not near enough to touch. “A woman who says she is fine, but will not look you in the eye, is not fine.”
I stopped and looked up at him now, feeling a rush of fierce annoyance. How dare he try to read me, and to pretend to be an expert on human women. He expected me to be honest with him? If I did that, it would give away the fact that I’m not okay with what the aliens had done to Earth and humanity.
“You are having trouble coming to terms with my duplicity,” he said.
This made me drop my eyes. “Your wife,” I asked. “Is she really dead?”
“No . . . it was all planned,” he responded, almost sadly. “We trained together from infancy. Human notions such as holding hands and being exclusive in a crowd—none of that is natural for our people. She was never my mate.”
“Your mate?”
“Well . . .” He blew out a puff of air. “Baelese do not have mates the way humans do—someone we exclusively spend our life with. As you know, it doesn’t always work well for humans either.” I said nothing, refusing to bash marriage with him, or to argue that hundreds of thousands of marriages last. “We mate when it is time to procreate. We raise our young as a community. We find that it is safer and healthier not to claim ownership over other beings. Wife, son, daughter, husband, these labels draw distinctions that can cause friction. Think of how many humans struggle with issues that stem from poor parenting. The pressure is overwhelming. This is something we plan to rectify for the human race.”
Don’t react. “I see.”
“You have doubts that we can be successful?”
I chewed my lip, searching for a satisfying response. “I guess humans can adapt to anything over time.”
“Indeed.” He nodded, appearing relieved that I seemed to understand and agree.
I looked across the room to the children, who were filtering out of the room in a single file line for lunch.
“Are any of them yours?” I asked.
“They are all mine.” He gave me an ironic grin, and I rolled my eyes.
“I mean, biologically. By . . . mating.”
“Zorion. He is eight now. And Milna, who is four.”
I smiled. “They’re both wonderful. I mean, of course, they all are.”
He laughed, just a short sputter, but the beautiful sound coupled with his handsome smile did weird things to my insides. The feeling was gone as quickly as it came, and I hoped it stayed away.
When all the students were gone, Vahni came clomping into the room on her stilettos. “It is time for lunch, Bahntan.”
He gave her a nod. “I will be there in a moment.”
If possible, her face hardened further. “I will not close you into this room with a human female. You know how they are.”
Freaking rude! As if I’d ever make a move on this shady faker!
The Senator remained completely unfazed. “By all means, Vahni, leave the door open.”
Her mouth opened and closed. “It is still inappropriate.”
“I think of Ms. Haines as our human advocate. She will inform me of the goings on in Primo Town. Her input will be key to a healthy working relationship between our two species.” She glared at him, and he ended with, “Not to worry. I will inform the council of Ms. Haines’s input at all of our meetings.”
She stared at him, and after an awkward battle of wills, she marched forward and stopped an arm’s length from me.
“If you are seen touching the Bahntan in any way—”
“Vahni,” the Senator warned, but she continued to stare at me.
“—even an accidental brush of your arm. You will be killed on sight.”
The Senator locked his jaw, appearing irritated. “That is no way to form a positive working environment with the humans.”
She looked away from me to glare straight back at him. “I am giving my orders to the guards now.” And then she clanked away, leaving me trembling.
When the Senator turned his head to say something else to me, I literally jumped away from him and let out a whimper. His lips pursed, displeased. Without saying whatever he was going to say, he walked away with graceful strides, cursing under his breath. For all intents and purposes, when he was pissed off, he appeared decidedly human.