It feels like I’m moving backward, though. Whatever progress I’ve made, whatever new person I’ve become since getting off the spaceship, I’ll be back to Leandra’s lost little pet in a flash.
I should be grateful, I remind myself. Most slaves aren’t given a choice. Most are simply rounded up and disposed of and end up in seedy spaceports, working on their backs. I’m lucky.
“Lucky,” I remind myself as I put on my shoes and move into the living area to pack up the food we’re bringing. I realize I should probably pack my things, as well, and tears threaten.
EMVOR
I feed the animals, trying to keep my mind off of what’s going to happen today. We’re going to drive out to the gathering, make nice with my neighbors, and I’m going to do my best to find myself a husband for Nicola. There are plenty of single men on this planet, since farming isn’t exactly driving women out here to remote Cassa. I can think of at least five farmers nearby without wives that might be interested…but none of them seem right for Nicola.
There’s Huseri, but he isn’t fond of bathing and tends to smell strongly. Which isn’t a problem when you live alone on your farm, but I imagine delicate Nicola under him and it makes me ill. Not him.
There’s Chetakh, who has a very large farm, but he’s also cheap. Nicola deserves someone that will pamper her and let her do as she pleases, especially after the life she’s had. Chetakh would have her wearing scraps and would hate her baking because it would use up his food stores. He’s not right for her.
There’s Sanjurel, but he’s old and still misses his wife. Not him.
There’s Amanast, but…I don’t like his face. And he has a strange laugh, like he’s belching instead of laughing. There’s no particular reason not to like him, I just don’t.
I mentally run through the rest of the single men living close by, and I can’t find a single one that’s right for her. Too short, too tall, too old, too young, too rich, too poor, too stubborn, too rude. There’s no one that seems just right for someone as wonderful as Nicola is. I have to think of someone for her, though. She’s not going back into space and wondering about her future. I want her to feel safe.
I head inside, unable to stall any longer. This day is going to happen whether I want it to or not. I rub at my sweaty hair. Should clean up before we head out, since it’ll be a long day and I don’t want Nicola thinking I smell as bad as Huseri. She—
The thoughts die in my head, and my breath dies in my throat.
Nicola stands in the doorway to the bedroom, and her beauty takes my breath away. She wears a long tunic over trou, in the traditional style back on Homeworld. The sleeves are an ornate, almost ridiculous style that is popular right now and I’ve avoided on my own clothing, but it looks amazing on her. The intricacy of the clothing just highlights how delicate she is, and how ethereal and lovely. The fabric is a dark, almost midnight, blue that makes her skin look even more luminous and her hair glossy. She smiles at me, her pink mouth shining and her magnificent breasts outlined perfectly by the clinging material.
“Do you think this is okay to wear?” she asks me shyly. “I don’t know these people and I’m not sure of the dress code, but this is the best outfit I have.”
I want to tell her to change into something plainer. Not because the others will mind, but because this outlines her perfect, dainty figure and the delicate turn of her ankles. And those breasts. But she’s nervous and worried, her hands trembling as she smooths the hem, and the last thing I want to do is make it worse. “You look beautiful,” I say gruffly.
And then I’m awarded with an easing of tension in her shoulders and a heartbreaking appearance of that dimple. It’s downright unfair that she’s going to belong to someone else.
We’re not in the air-sled for more than ten minutes before I see another one in the distance, heading our way. Sleds can go over any terrain, so I know there’s no reason to ride alongside each other unless it’s purely for curiosity or company. I’m guessing we’re about to get a dose of both.
“Who’s that?” Nicola asks, and she shrugs a shawl up over her shoulders and over her hair. I realize she’s trying to hide her face. Of course she is. She’s scared someone’s coming after her.
I feel a surge of protectiveness toward her. “It’s gonna be okay,” I promise her, keeping my voice gentle. “Just one of the neighbors being a little nosy.”