Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

"You look very nice." Serihk led Sazahk to a quiet corner where Sazahk's implant informed him there were no microphones to pick up their private conversation.

Sazahk set his plate of un-sampled snacks on the standing-height table beside them. "I would expect that to be your opinion, considering your role in procuring my attire." Serihk winced at his words and Sazahk quickly added to his statement. "For which I am very grateful. Bar'in informs me that the gold brings out a pleasing undertone to the yellow hue of my skin when I'm happy."

Bar'in's awareness of the meaning of Sazahk's colors had thrown Sazahk at first, but upon reflection, he realized it shouldn't have. The klah'eel was impressively observant, and Sazahk hadn't made a concentrated effort to obscure his mind's inner workings.

He suspected Fal'ran knew his colors as well, and if Fal'ran knew them, then Patrick knew them. But he didn't find the notion as disturbing as he might have. He'd chosen to stay with Squad M because he cared deeply for them and believed that they cared for him in return. If that meant they knew more about him than anyone else since his childhood with Serihk, then that was a deal he was willing to make.

"I won't keep you long." Serihk eyed the lavender-cream-filled pastry puff closest to him on Sazahk's plate but didn't touch it. "I know you have others you would rather spend this time with."

"As do you." Sazahk looked meaningfully at the burly human man who'd followed his brother all about the ballroom that evening. Or at least, who had appeared to follow his brother about. A more measured analysis indicated that it was his brother that had followed the human around. The way they looked at each other spoke of an intimacy that shocked Sazahk. "I never expected you to take a human lover. The political impracticality seems beyond a level I would expect you to find tolerable. And I doubt Father approves."

"Father was not given the opportunity to express an opinion." Serihk's dark eyes flickered to somewhere over Sazahk's shoulder. "And I could say the same of you. To be honest, I'm not sure I expected you ever to take a lover."

Sazahk refused to follow his brother's gaze. He'd already come clean to him about some semblance of his feelings for Garin, but that didn't mean he needed to expose any more of their depths to him.

"Not that I judge you." Serihk's eyes snapped back to him, orange brushing across his nose. "In fact, I'm happy for you."

"I believe you are." Sazahk handed his brother the purple pastry he so clearly wanted.

He believed him both because of what Serihk had said and done when Sazahk had begged him for help, and because of the way he looked at the human man with the obviously once-broken nose from across the room. There was something softer and more earnest in him than Sazahk remembered from when they were younger. He supposed there was probably something different about himself since they were younger, too.

He hoped there was, at least.

"But I doubt you summoned me for an opportunity to exchange our mutual incredulity with each other's romantic decisions." Sazahk stabbed a toothpick into a cube of semi-hard cheese that he and Garin found particularly delicious, despite its somewhat off-putting smell.

"No." Serihk took a small bite of the pastry, managing to not get purple cream on his face when it burst from its flakey confines. His lips twitched up at the taste, but then he looked at Sazahk again and his shoulders curled back and he lifted his chin. "Actually, I wanted to inform you I have taken the liberty of procuring you a gift. A reward, rather, for your significant part in securing the peace deal we are all here celebrating."

Sazahk chewed his cheese and raised an eyebrow as he looked about the room. The tone of the gathering wasn't exactly celebratory. Insects and members of the other species states sharing space for the first time without exchanging fire made for a tense atmosphere. And an air that might be more accurately described as mournful hung about Dominic and Prince Hyg despite the society faces they both wore. But the inaccurate description concerned Sazahk less than the concept of a gift from his brother, which must have shown on his face.

"A reward that you are under no circumstances required to accept and that I have already been informed"—Serihk glanced at his human man, who watched them from his position by the bar—"might have been a step too far for our only recently renewed relationship."

Sazahk restrained the instinct to reject whatever Serihk wanted to push on him. His brother was trying. That much was evident. He smeared the next foul-smelling cheese onto a simple cracker. "Considering the bitter and false beliefs I have harbored about you for the past decade, I suspect I owe it to you to hear what you propose to give to me with an open mind."

Serihk's shoulders loosened. "You don't owe me anything, Sazahk."

"I owe you at least Garin's life." Sazahk stuffed the cracker into his mouth. And Garin's life was worth more to him than he wanted to admit.

"No, he owes you his." Serihk shook his head and daintily finished the rest of his pastry. "Something I'm sure he's aware of and grateful for." He brushed the crumbs from his fingers and gave Sazahk a serious look. "You did well."

Sazahk didn't think he'd ever seen that pride in his brother's eyes before. At least, he hadn't seen it directed toward him. Or if he had, he hadn't been willing to see it, or hadn't believed that he'd seen it.

Whichever the case, finally seeing the expression on his brother's face hurt like the first bite of food after starvation. Sazahk thought of the way Garin's brothers looked at him and the way Garin looked at his brothers. The pictures of them Garin carried around in his pocket wherever he went.

Sazahk didn't understand it at all, but he wanted to.

He held out another pastry to his brother. "And what presumably absurdly large and financially demanding gift have you gotten me?"

Burnt orange twisted across Serihk's cheeks. "A ship."

He pulled his data tablet from his robes and held it out. On the screen was an outline meant for a qeshian hand, of the sort Sazahk hadn't seen in a long time. He eyed it with a mixture of wariness and excitement.

He doubted Serihk had procured him a budget ship. If it was anything like Serihk's own vessel, it was something Sazahk wasn't sure he could even accept.

But he reached out and pressed his palm to the screen.

A flood of information streamed into his implant. Engines. Displays. Rooms. Sensors. Walls. Floors. Ceilings. Computers. Tablets. Screens.

A lab.

With nothing but a thought, Sazahk lifted a delicate flex metal tentacle from a workstation and touched a microscope.

The ship wasn't large like Serihk's, which carried an entire household with it. It would fit five, maybe six, people comfortably, but not much more than that.

But that didn't matter because it already felt like his.

"Do you like it?" Serihk tucked the tablet back into his robes.

Sazahk didn't answer right away. It was a ludicrously generous gift. The kind Sazahk would have rejected in the past because of the implied debt he would owe to his brother.

But he no longer believed it came with those strings attached. He touched the fabric of a pillow with the exquisitely sensitive tip of a tentacle unwrapped from the column of the four-poster bed.

Finally, Sazahk nodded, his throat clogged. "Yes."

"It wasn't funded entirely by me." Serihk's cheeks bloomed with pink, a smile spreading across his face. "As I said, it is partially a reward for your role in bringing about our current peace." He put a hand on Sazahk's shoulder. "But I also thought you more than deserved something with which to put your implant to proper use. I consulted with scientists of the Qeshian Institute about what the latest cutting-edge technology for a lab of your size and interests would be, and this is what they came back with."

"They clearly had a passable level of expertise." Sazahk inspected his array of gadgets and tools through the cameras on his new ship, blind to the gala around him. There were some pieces missing that were absolutely vital, but he was sure that Zyk and Ha'ral could provide him with those.

"That was the best I was hoping for," Serihk chuckled. "She's yours now. I've transferred all titles, rights of ownership, and control to you."

His.

Sazahk had never had anything that was his. He'd grown up the maligned son, then the treasured tool, and when he'd proven to be a broken tool, he'd been exiled and had moved on to be the treasured tool of a cartel.

He was grateful to Zyk and Ha'ral, cared for them, and considered them friends, but he hadn't been free. He'd never had a place to be free. A place of his own.

Giddiness bubbled in Sazahk's chest as he flicked his gaze from room to room to room in his new home and he realized what he wanted to do most was show Garin. He couldn't wait to show Garin.

He wondered what he'd like the best. He wondered how he'd feel about the colors. He wondered if he'd have preferences on the thread count of the sheets.

He spun around, no longer concerned about Serihk seeing his feelings for Garin.

But Garin wasn't where he thought he would be. Bar'in and Tar stood alone at the table. As Sazahk watched, Fal'ran and Patrick came over with frowns.

Sazahk rifled through the viewpoints of the various cameras in the room via his implant, searching for the missing human.

When he found him, he froze.

Garin stood next to a tower of human-style champagne glasses artfully arranged to form a waterfall as a fountain poured into them. Beside him stood another human, a very young, ginger-haired, pretty human.

That hated emotion from back in the disruptor rod's cavern lodged itself in Sazahk's stomach again.

Who was that young man? Why was his hand reaching for Garin's forearm? Why was his hand resting on Garin's forearm, and why was he smiling like that?

Garin had his back to Sazahk, inspecting the tower of champagne glasses, so Sazahk couldn't see if the same infuriatingly sweet smile the redhead wore adorned Garin's face, but he hoped it didn't.

Sazahk mentally ripped through Tazal Station's database, tearing through all the files on all the bureaucrats and diplomats and their entourages that he hadn't bothered to look through before. He searched through every scrap of information he had access to on the handsome man.

But he wasn't anyone. He was a political nobody. And he certainly wasn't anyone Garin would know.

But he was pretty, and he was talking to Garin, and maybe Garin didn't care much beyond that.

Sazahk knew it was his own quirk of nature to be interested only in people he was emotionally entangled with. Garin had made it very clear he didn't share that particular proclivity. So why shouldn't Garin talk to the pretty man, especially if the pretty man was talking to Garin?

But Sazahk knew the answer to that. Garin shouldn't talk to the pretty man, didn't need to talk to the pretty man, because he already had Sazahk, at least for a few hours yet.

Just as Sazahk made up his mind to insert himself into the exchange and discover exactly what sort of sparkling conversation the political child could possibly provide to a man like Garin, who had undoubtedly seen far more interesting things in his life than a man that young could have ever seen, a bell rang out.

The room hushed as the evening's primary guest of honor, Prince Hyg, swept to a podium at the front of the ballroom. Dominic Turner, his head held high despite the pallor of his skin, trailed after him and stood beside him on the dais.

"I wish to thank all of you gathered here today for your effort in and commitment to providing a home and a future for my people." Prince Hyg's melodic baritone voice carried easily across the quiet crowd. "We are grateful beyond a measure you can comprehend. Please know that despite our entry into your sector and the manner in which we did so, we aspire to be peaceful and productive members of your community." Prince Hyg glanced at Dominic Turner beside him, but his antennas twitched in the opposite direction, away from his betrothed. "I hope that my marriage to one of your own will go some way toward cementing the bond between our peoples."

"Take his hand," Serihk muttered under his breath, loud enough only for Sazahk to hear, though Sazahk doubted he'd been the intended audience. But Serihk's projected will compelled neither Dominic nor Prince Hyg to bridge the yawning gap between them.

"I don't believe they want to be married," Sazahk murmured to Serihk. It didn't take a body language expert to recognize that neither of them was pleased to be standing beside each other before this crowd.

He doubted they were pleased to be standing beside each other at all.

Prince Hyg had made his proposal to Alistar Turner with a solemnity not normally shown during offers of engagement. The Drone accompanying him had looked as though her prince were throwing himself upon a sword and the Soldier had looked as though someone were stabbing him with one.

Sazahk hadn't been present when Dominic had received the news of his upcoming nuptials, but considering that Dominic hadn't reached out to him since, he didn't think he'd taken it well. Only something truly upsetting could have kept the human scientist from engaging with Sazahk on his findings.

But Garin was closer to Dominic than Sazahk was.

Garin, who was now standing closer to the redhead than he had been when Prince Hyg took the stage. Sazahk still couldn't see Garin's face, not even through any of the room's cameras, but he saw the flirtatious smile on the redhead's pink lips as he looked up at him.

And he saw Garin turn to him as he replied to whatever inane thing had come out of his pretty mouth.

"Control your face." Serihk stepped between Sazahk and Garin, blocking Sazahk's view of him. "Your colors are a mess."

Sazahk looked down at his hands to see them swarming with black, and he stuffed them into his robe's sleeves.

"Would you like me to have him removed?" Serihk didn't take his gaze off the Prince, but he raised an eyebrow.

"Who?" Sazahk turned pointedly back to the speech, though he let his implant filter out most of the words, not interested in the political niceties.

"That man talking to yours." Serihk's voice dipped into a growl and despite his directive for Sazahk to control his face, a sliver of red peeked above the collar of his own shirt.

"Garin is not mine, and it is not my duty to regulate whom he converses with." Sazahk clenched his fists, hidden in the long sleeves of his robe. "He is more than free to strike up whatever conversation he likes. Even if that conversation is undoubtedly dull and vapid."

Sazahk cringed after the words left his mouth. He wasn't used to expressing cruelty toward people who didn't deserve it and it discomfited him to hear it from himself.

Jealousy didn't sit right in his gut.

But Sazahk's dislike for the bitter, needy feeling didn't make it any less potent.

Garin should be standing next to him.

Garin shouldn't be standing next to that man.

Sazahk wanted Garin with him, and he didn't normally want things like that, but wanted it now.

"I'll have him removed." Serihk turned to his klah'eel bodyguard in the corner, but Sazahk shook his head.

"That is an unnecessary abuse of power."

Serihk nodded to the hulking woman with the sharp tusks and indicated the red head. "A minor one."

Sazahk clenched his jaw and leaned over to hiss at his brother. "I do not wish to have him removed on my brother's orders in an attempt to coddle my fragile feelings."

Serihk made a noise in the back of his throat and waved his bodyguard down. "Fine."

His brother's protectiveness surprised and strangely pleased Sazahk, but it introduced a new concern to his muddled mind. If his brother was feeling protective, how might his squad be feeling?

For the first time since spying Garin and his pretty companion, Sazahk looked back at the table with Bar'in, Tar, Fal'ran, and Patrick. But instead of finding the combination of pity and protectiveness he had expected, Sazahk found Bar'in's poisonous glare directed at himself.

Sazahk recoiled. That didn't seem fair, considering it was his feelings under assault. He barely heard the applause at the end of Prince Hyg's speech over the pounding in his ears of his own indignation. He started toward his squad, and Serihk stepped in front of him as he passed.

"Let me know how I can help."

Sazahk pressed his lips together and let his instinctual defensiveness ebb away before responding, but still side-stepped his brother. "I don't need your help."

Bar'in rounded on Sazahk as he approached, his shoulders up and his fists balled, but Patrick pulled him back. He said something in Bar'in's ear, then turned him, and pushed him in the opposite direction. He shot Tar a meaningful look, and Tar put his much larger hand on Bar'in's narrow shoulder and led him away.

Sazahk had the somewhat mortifying impression he was in trouble and didn't wish to be, something he hadn't felt in a long time. One had to care about others' opinions to care if they disapproved. But in the past few months, Sazahk had found people whose opinions he cared about.

And still, somehow, even though Sazahk had crossed the room, Garin had his back to him, as though he had consciously rotated himself with exactly the angular velocity required to ensure they would not catch each other's eyes. All Sazahk saw was the face of the pretty man chattering at him and standing even closer.

Sazahk yanked his gaze away and fixed it instead on his commanding officer. He stopped short, knowing Patrick would never hurt him in a million years, but still unwilling to be quite within arm's reach. "Judging by your expression, I assume you have prepared a scolding."

"You didn't give Garin my offer." Patrick crossed his arms.

Sazahk felt a prickle of irritation and pursed his lips. "Between his familial and financial obligations, he is in no position to accept your offer."

"So says you." Patrick's fingers flexed on his biceps. "You didn't even tell him about it."

Sazahk didn't bother to control the purple he felt spreading up his throat. "Because he could not accept it. So says not only me, but all evidence and logic."

"That is not a decision you get to make for him." Patrick jutted his chin out, but before he said more, Fal'ran stepped between them.

"That's rich coming from you, Patrick." Fal'ran raised his eyebrows, the scarred one lifting higher than the other. "I'm not sure you have a leg to stand on here. Or have you forgotten arranging a position for me without my knowledge and consent?"

Sazahk stepped closer to Fal'ran. "While I appreciate your concern, Patrick, my affairs are my own."

But then Fal'ran turned the force of his accusing glare onto Sazahk. "Oh, he may not have a leg to stand on, but I do." His anger morphed into exasperation. "You adore that man, Sazahk. Why would you hurt him like that?"

Fal'ran's orange eyes echoing with the pain Patrick had put him through made Sazahk feel guilty in a way Bar'in's poisonous glare hadn't. He dropped his chin. "I'm trying to respect his values. I don't want to pressure him to prioritize me above his family."

Fal'ran gave him an unimpressed look. "By not telling him how you feel?"

"I told him how I feel!" Sazahk's outburst drew looks, and he flushed and dropped his voice, his jaw twitching. "I told him how I feel with more detail than I have ever expressed any of my emotional state about anything to anyone ever before."

"But you didn't give him a chance to reject you." Fal'ran sighed and shook his head. "And now he feels as though you've rejected him."

"But I didn't." Sazahk grasped for words. That wasn't—he hadn't—He bit his lip.

Fal'ran grimaced with the pity Sazahk had originally expected. "Didn't you though?"

Not in so many words, but that made it all the worse. Goddess take him. How did he keep messing this up? He hadn't researched enough. That was the problem. He hadn't done enough research into relationships and humans and romance. He was out of his depth, and he'd stumbled along making binding decisions anyway, like an uninformed politician regulating technology.

Sazahk whirled around, looking for Garin again, and caught the flash of movement as he retreated through a side door.

The redhead was nowhere to be found.

"Go!" Fal'ran gave him a push between the shoulder blades. "Our squad has good luck with confessing our feelings at fancy occasions."