Chapter 10

Lise

Was that a dream?

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling with Nugget purring against my side and replayed my most recent memories. Flowers. Beautiful yellow flowers like a field of suns. They smelled wonderful so I picked one and then…

The next thing I remembered was being in his arms. His hand on my face. Those bold features gazing down at me with far more concern than an aloof warlord should ever have for a visiting human like myself.

He talked to me about the flowers. That they made us fall asleep but they were also a medicine that saved lives for other species. But I was so tired at the time, I barely remembered this. I did recall the feeling of being safe. So enveloped in his warm, strong body that I thought nothing could happen to me there.

I didn’t remember going to bed. I was still fully clothed in what I had been wearing, except for my shoes. Those were lined up next to my bed. I would never leave them like that. He must have brought me in here, taken off my shoes and put me under the covers. No amount of imagination could conjure the mental image of Pal-Adrik doing those things.

My bladder was screaming at me so I pushed off the blanket and got up to use the bathroom. It was evening. I checked the time on my padbook and sure enough, dinner would be winding down at the dining hall. But the house smelled good. I noticed a tray sitting on the warming table that was built into the heating element in the center of the house. Someone had brought me food. I brought the tray to the table and sat down to eat.

According to the date on my padbook, it was still the same day. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. This was a hearty meal, with a large, heavy mug covered in a stoneware lid to keep it warm. It smelled like tea, rather than ale.

I ate the delicious meal, absently petting Nugget, who hopped up on my lap, hoping for a bit of meat. I was pretty sure my memories were real. Pretty sure I needed to apologize to the warlord.

I glanced out at the dark red sky. It was too late to hunt him down tonight. Plus, I was still exhausted. Tomorrow I would find him and apologize for rendering myself unconscious. Who knew picking a damn flower was such a hazardous act on this planet? I sipped some tea, which was definitely a Mitran blend, and then changed into pajamas and went back to bed. I fell asleep instantly.

The next morning I woke up feeling refreshed and blissfully wonderful for the first few seconds of consciousness. Then I remembered.

Oh, right. I had embarrassed myself by picking a flower that had knocked me out, causing the warlord to have to carry me back here. I rolled my face into the pillow, remembering the concerned furrowing of his brow and trying to ignore how fantastic it felt being held in his huge arms.

I ate the hearty leftover bread from last night’s meal, determined to not go to the dining hall this morning. Word of what I’d done had probably gotten around. The last thing I wanted to deal with was the looks and—I had no idea what the reaction would be from the people here. Anger at desecrating a valuable flower? Amusement at my ignorance?

I was a journalist. My job was to blend in, be invisible, observe unnoticed except when I needed to interview someone or get their perspective. This was not the attention I wanted. And to make it worse—one million times worse—that damn flycam had recorded it all. It sat dormant on its charger just then, but it had come with me to that flower field. I was afraid to see the footage, but I’d have to. By now, there were more things I wanted to delete from it than keep.

I put on my robe and poked my head outside. Despite not being thrilled about going outside, let alone in a robe, I padded a few streets over to the underground baths, where I slipped into one of the pools and soaked for a bit. The hot, mineralized water soaked into my muscles and soothed away some of my worries. Afterward, I showered, scrubbing myself clean. There was no point in talking to the warlord with dirty hair.

I walked back to my small house, still damp from the shower and beginning to rehearse what I would say to Pal-Adrik, but it would not be hard to find the warlord after all. He was standing before my front door, gazing at me, arms crossed.

I stopped dead in my tracks as if I’d run into an invisible wall. “Warlord.” Come on, Lise. Say something, I shrieked inside of my head. “Hi.” Ugh.

One corner of his mouth moved upwards just a fraction. “Good morning, Lise Avory. I see you are feeling better today.”

“Yes, thank you.” I folded my hands in front of me, acutely aware that I was wearing only a robe. True, it came down to my ankles, but it was still just a bathrobe. Certainly not dignified enough to address a warlord in. Nevertheless… “I wish to express how deeply sorry I am for my behavior yesterday.” Okay, good start. “I should never have touched those blooms without knowing what they were for and the possible consequences. I can’t say how much I apologize for—”

The warlord waved a hand impatiently. His brows snapped together. “I told you yesterday you had nothing to apologize for. I meant it then and I mean it now.”

Okaaay. “Then why are you here?”

“Perhaps you don’t remember that I told you yesterday I would come today to show you around the Thrail and surrounding lands. You have expressed the desire to ask me questions, so you may do that as well.” He cocked his head to the side. “Have you eaten?”

“Excuse me?”

“Have you eaten anything this morning? You were not seen at the dining hall.”

“Yes, I… I had leftovers. What are you talking about—showing me around the Thrail?”

“You don’t remember that part of the conversation. I should’ve suspected as much.”

I had vague memories of a conversation that made no sense to me, but it was, as I said, very, very vague. We stood there in a profoundly awkward moment. Well, awkward for me. Pal-Adrik did not have the bearing of someone who ever felt awkward in any circumstance. He simply gazed at me expectantly, waiting for me to go with him.

“Well, let me get dressed, then,” I said.

I made to enter the house, but he winced and ran his gaze over the thick robe covering me. “You look more comfortable in that.”

I let out a laugh. “Sure, but there’s no way I’m traipsing through your Thrail in a bathrobe.”

“Then come to the shops and choose something less uncomfortable than those constricting garments that you brought from your home world.” He looked pained just mentioning them. “Does everyone dress that way on Earth?”

“They’re professional clothes,” I tried to explain. “And they’re not that bad. I’m expected to present myself in a professional manner.” I shrugged and swung both hands in the air. Who was I kidding? My tailored suits and heels and itchy fabrics were miserably uncomfortable, and here, they left me cold. “I have universal credits. Let me just go get my device for—”

“Nonsense. The females who have come here were not expected to purchase clothing to be comfortable, and neither are you.” He swept an arm towards the center of town. “Come. We will find you appropriate clothing.”

“But I’m in a bathrobe.”

“So is everyone going to and from the baths.” He raised one slashing brow. “It is not an unusual sight.”

“I…” His expression and words left no opening for rebuttal. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flycam turn its tiny camera from me to him, and back to me. I could either continue to argue, or I could accept the warlord’s kind generosity and move the fuck on with my day. I chose to do the latter. I inclined my head respectfully. “Thank you, Warlord. That is very generous of you.”

The center square was an interesting place. I’d seen it the previous day, as it was near the dining hall, and I had, of course, seen it on the day I arrived, but had not been in a state to make keen observations just then, so it was like seeing the square for the first time.

He pointed out the buildings and landmarks—the elders’ residence, the libraries, the medical center, his own home, and the shops. The center of commerce of Thrail Tyvor was a long, narrow lane with smooth-fronted stone buildings on either side. It was reminiscent of Earth’s marketplaces from an earlier era and I was instantly charmed. I almost forgot that I was with the warlord of the Thrail and grinned in pure delight at the smells and sights.

I saw a number of humans. Women who worked at shops and some who clearly owned them. There was one shop with a sign that read, All Things Earth, complete with rotating globe of the planet. In the window I could see familiar household items. Stuff like packs of gum, nail polish, lip balms and books in our native languages that we’d take for granted back home, but it would mean everything way out here.

“Would you like to go in there?” asked the deep voice beside me.

“No, thank you,” I said with a grin. “None of that stuff is calling to me right now.”

He nodded. “For many of the females from your planet, that shop is a connection to their home world. They often gather there. If there’s anything you wish to order, Jessie has a contract with a freighter that acquires almost anything you could request from Earth.”

I wish I had my padbook with me for taking notes. I’d have to remember what I could, and look back through what the flycam was recording, to get all the information he was sharing with me.

“I would really like to get out of this bathrobe,” I said.

His gaze turned to cooled lava—black and glittering. He turned to me. “Would you?” Those two words, uttered soft and casually, sent shivers over my skin. There was a depth to them. A separate meaning that I didn’t have to think too hard on to grasp. But it had to be my imagination. This tall, inscrutable male could command the attention of far more beautiful women than me. But I had to wonder.

And wondering lit up my body in ways I had not expected, ways that were certainly not convenient. I felt warmth in my cheeks and a tightness in my throat. “Yes, please,” I said, before I thought out a response. I dropped my gaze, trying to put everything back on track. But suddenly the air between us felt heavily charged. “You said there were some garment shops around here?” My words came out a little more forceful than I anticipated, almost accusatory. But he didn’t seem affected.

He nodded to a trio of stores across the lane. “You will find garments more suitable for Mitran life and weather in those three establishments.” His gaze moved back to me and ran over my form, from head to toe, then back up again. “I suggest the third one for you.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“The shopkeeper is known for the highest quality of clothing in our Thrail. She creates custom garments and imports clothes made by the best designers in other Thrails.”

I felt my eyes widen. “Oh no. I don’t need anything fancy.”

The warlord stepped close to me, looking down with a serious expression. He did not touch me, but I could feel his body bending towards mine. His gaze moved over my face like a touch. “Oh yes, you do, Lise.”

Again, there was no debating it. And if that damn flycam didn’t catch the tension crackling between us, the other pedestrians and shoppers absolutely did. A glance around showed that. Mitrans and women gaped at us openly, some with twinkling eyes, some with uncertainty, but speculation was hard to ignore.

I cleared my throat. “I think we’re causing a scene.”

“A what?” Of course, he didn’t know what that was.

“Everyone is staring.” I raised one eyebrow. “You are the warlord of the Thrail and here you are bringing me—a human visitor—clothes shopping. It might look like…”

“Like what?” He moved even closer. I could feel his breath on my forehead.

I batted the flycam away. One swat so I could get my words out without being recorded. It careened away for a moment, and while it did that, I leaned up on my toes and hissed, “Like you like me.”

The flycam righted itself and focused on the warlord just in time for him to reply with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, “I do like you.”

This was all my brain could take at that moment, surrounded by curious Mitrans and a fucking flycam recording my every move and word. “Okay. Let’s try shopping.” I spun around and walked blindly. Well, not that blindly. I aimed straight for the shop he indicated. I heard the sound of a deep chuckle behind me and the crunch of his footsteps as he followed.