by Cari Z.
Jason watched, stony-faced but heart racing, as the twins tottered across the floor and into the waiting arms of Ylenn, who gave each of them a brief, ritual kiss before turning them over to her consorts, who received the pair with much more excitement. While their nudity was covered with new green robes, the two matriarchs inclined their heads to each other, and then the two parties exited the amphitheater on different sides.
Celebration followed. Jason knew this because he was told as much, and because there was traditional food that squirmed on the platters that held it and two types of tea: Grenn-sweet and Lronn’s far more sour style, which Jason couldn’t drink as it hurt his throat. There was constant chatter, lively conversation, and more purring and smiles than Jason had seen since his arrival a month ago, but he didn’t really feel up to participating. What he had seen was staying with him, and not in a positive way.
Jason watched Ferran drift away into the crowd, happy for the moment not to have his mood scrutinized by his husband. He could see Corran out of the corner of his eye, sticking close, and he knew that would annoy Ferran, but it didn’t really bother him. Maybe the kid actually had something to practice by now.
Jason let his feet carry him around the edges of the room. For the most part, he wasn’t noticed; in uncomfortable social situations in the past, he’d been able to practically disappear, even if he was surrounded by people, simply by being still and silent. He thought about taking that course now, but for some reason, his feet kept going, as though they were looking for something and hadn’t let his brain in on the secret yet. He didn’t know what their goal was until they stopped five feet away from Grenn, who was holding court with a group of lesser matriarchs. When she noticed him, she stopped speaking.
He took rapid stock of his emotional state. Nothing seemed overtly antagonistic, and none of the other matriarchs looked anything other than curious as to why he was standing there. After one long look at his face, Grenn excused herself with a polite purr and moved over to Jason’s side. “Come. We’ll talk elsewhere.”
The amphitheater wasn’t far from the Council House—it was actually a part of the extensive underground facility branching out from the Council’s meeting room. Grenn and Jason walked for a few minutes in silence, until finally, Grenn opened a door and ushered him in to a small room. There were two chairs, a table, and nothing else. “Now we can talk,” she said.
“You’re not doing that to Ferran.” The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to censor them, and upon reflection, Jason wasn’t at all sorry they were said.
“I most certainly will preside over my own son in his rhezan.”
“Not if it means injuring him, you won’t.”
“The quills grow back,” she said soothingly. “It is symbolic as well as practical. Caring for those small, ritual wounds will help to bond a matriarch and her new consorts. It is tradition.”
“It won’t help Ferran bond with me,” Jason told her. “I’m not a matriarch, and Ferran and I have had enough barriers without having to deal with you brutalizing him.”
“You will mind your tone with me.”
Jason had never heard a growl so low. He swallowed back the next few things that had been clamoring to come out of his mouth and took a deep breath instead.
Grenn went on after a moment. “You do not fully understand our culture. What you saw was as expected as it is accepted, and no lasting harm was done to either of my nephews. I went so far as to modify their ceremony for you, so that they will be free to return and assist you once their integration into their new family is complete. You should be thanking me.”
“Thank you.”
Grenn’s eyes narrowed. “You are very challenging to read at times. Was that impudence or impatience?”
“Neither. I appreciate the trouble you went to to make sure Neyarr and Garrell could come back to see us.” All of that was true. “I don’t appreciate the prospect of being forced to participate in a ceremony that doesn’t fit what I have with Ferran. I can’t see us doing that right now. I can’t honestly see myself being comfortable with that at any time in the foreseeable future.”
“That is a personal failing that you will need to work on,” Grenn said evenly, the deepness gone from her tone even if the seriousness wasn’t. “You have some time yet.”
Time. Jason felt like he was being pulled in two by time, both drowning in the endless months that still stretched out in front of him and groping for more time than the little bit they’d had—to stave off the future and hold back what seemed inevitable. Time was subjective, but it wasn’t kind.
The communicator at his hip beeped. Jason slowly detached it and raised the speaker to his mouth, ignoring Grenn’s smug, complacent stare. “Yes?”
“Jason, what happened? Why did you leave?”
“I needed to talk to Grenn about some things.”
There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. “Is she still with you?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like me to come to you? I can leave here.”
“That’s all right,” Jason assured him. “I’m fine. Stay at the party.”
“Will you come back?”
“At some point, maybe. I feel a little off.” Angryhungrysickofthistiredtiredtired. “I might go home for a while.”
“I can meet you there.”
“Really, it’s okay. Take your time, I know there are a lot of people you want to talk to.” And people who wanted to talk to him but hadn’t fit into Ferran’s hypercrowded schedule. Friends he hadn’t reconnected with yet, brought together thanks to the rhezan.
“I’ll be back soon, then. Please call me if you feel worse.”
“I will.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He ended the call and put the communicator back, ignoring Grenn’s stare.
“You lie to him,” she said with a knowing little smile.
“Not about the important things.” So Jason didn’t feel ill like he’d implied, exactly. He didn’t feel like trying to be engaging in a room full of curious Perel either.
“Everything is important.” Grenn chuckled suddenly. “You two still have so much to learn. You lie to save his feelings, and Ferran…. Ah, my son is in love.” She waved one thick, stubby hand. “Love makes fools. You two will learn.”
Jason didn’t know what they were supposed to learn, and he didn’t feel like asking. He inclined his head, waited a second for her acknowledgment, and then left without a backward glance. He managed to get one of the shuttles Grenn had put on standby to take him back to their den, and only once he was alone did he really allow himself, for the first time in a long time, to curse out loud.
He knew, he knew, in detail, the list of his own failings. Jason had never been prone to self-flattery, and he knew the myriad of ways in which he could be better: a better captain, a better lover, a better friend. A better person. He knew just how poor he was at managing relationships—life with Blake and the brief lovers who had come before him had demonstrated that—but he’d never really thought he’d have that kind of difficulty with Ferran. Because Ferran loved him with a fervor that took Jason’s breath away, and it was warm and constant and Jason craved it like he needed air. But even the air could hurt to breathe here on Perelan.
Jason needed to clear his head. He thought about trying to meditate and even went so far as to sit down and get into position, but he was too tense and twitchy to make any progress. His practice had suffered since his arrival on Perelan, and now wasn’t the time to ease back into it. He stood up and went into the studio, so much more spacious than anywhere else in their den, and he closed his eyes. The middle of the floor was clear of equipment, and it was where Jason worked out the katas before he taught them to his classes, the movement encouraging his brain to remember things it hadn’t had to do in so long. Maybe a moving meditation would work where a seated one hadn’t.
He moved into the salute position, bending his knees slightly and raising his fists so tha
t they were level with his chest. The next move was usually accompanied by a keeyai, a call that summoned up energy, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the silence right now. He stepped wordlessly into the next move and then the next, working his way through the kata. Instead of relaxing him like it usually did, though, Jason just felt choked.
Finally, he finished and opened his eyes. They came to rest on the photographs of his parents, framed and sitting on the table along with some of Ferran’s paintings. Ferran had wanted to make frames for them—painted frames, and he had just finished yesterday. Jason walked over to the picture that showed his parents together on the balcony of their home. God, he missed that balcony. He missed them.
Jason picked up the other photograph, the one of just his mother, staring down at one of her butterfly houses and smiling faintly. For the first time in a long time—perhaps spurred by the realization that the “mothers” he had now were nothing like the one he remembered—Jason spoke to the picture. “I miss you. So much.”
When he was upset as a child, Jason had taken care not to show it. His parents had already been worried by his nightmares, and Jason’s father was a good man, but not good at being comforting. Min-suh always seemed to know what was going on, though, no matter how Jason tried to hide his feelings. At night, instead of tucking him in and leaving, she would sit at his bedside and stroke his hair, singing soft songs in Korean that it took Jason years to understand. She had smelled like tea, green tea, and her hair had been soft around her plain, beloved face.
Jason’s mother had understood him—all of his moods and his quirks. With her, he had never had to explain or justify himself. Even if she didn’t agree with him, she understood why he did what he did.
He missed a lot of things. Jason hadn’t let himself consciously miss most of those things, but it was a never-ending ache inside, something that diminished and flared depending on the day. It was connected to those flames of anger inside of him, the temper that he also tried not to acknowledge. But just because he was ignoring his problems didn’t mean they weren’t still there, and for a minute, Jason just let himself miss everything. He wanted wood floors beneath his feet and the crispness of a uniform and the comprehensible command structure of a ship. He wanted wild storms and butterflies and kimchi and a fucking beer, which he hadn’t even realized he would miss until it was impossible for him to get one. He wanted air that didn’t burn and water that didn’t sear, and he wanted to fall asleep with Ferran in his own bed, firm and supportive, not the soft, sagging thing they slept on here.
There’s the rub. Jason wanted to fall asleep with Ferran. No matter how much he missed the comforts of his old life, Jason knew he wanted Ferran more than anything else. “So stop it,” he told himself firmly. One month, and he was acting like this? Foolish, even if he was the only one who ever knew. Fool.
He would do better. He would. But there was still no way he was going to let Grenn do that to Ferran, not even if it meant that he ended up in a penitent’s cage for defying her. No. Just no.
Feeling marginally better, Jason went to take a shower. He made a small meal and ate it, then got into bed by himself. He was alone when he fell into a restless sleep and still alone an hour later when he woke up, sweaty and shuddering, out of a nightmare. Jason gave up on sleeping after that.
Chapter Thirteen
THE TWINS had had an insulating effect on Jason and Ferran’s day-to-day life that Jason had taken for granted until it was gone. They were friendly and knowledgeable and they cared enough for their cousin to make the effort to be kind to Jason, useful to him. He had appreciated them, but not really thought about the consequences of them not being there. Now that they weren’t, he was learning very quickly that the road was a lot bumpier than he had realized.
Which wasn’t to say that there weren’t a lot of Perels in Grenn’s House who were anxious to spend time with him, because there were. One of them was Corran, and Jason actually did enjoy his company, but he seemed very young to Jason, and yet, he was trying to act the part of a protector. That didn’t sit very well since Jason was accustomed to taking care of himself, and Corran didn’t seem to think that he could do anything alone.
In the end, Jason chose a small cadre of Perels who could speak to him and seemed gregarious enough to make up for his tendency toward shyness. He went out with one or two of them on a rotating basis for his long, dark afternoon hours.
In some ways, it brought Jason and Ferran closer together. They spent more time together, just the two of them, in the evenings, cooking and talking and working in the studio. They still spent tremendous amounts of time practicing their various tasks and lessons, but they had always done that together, and spending time alone in Ferran’s company had never been difficult for Jason.
However, losing the twins also meant that Ferran’s sounding boards were gone, and Jason knew that there were things that his husband had talked out with his cousins before, things that bothered him or disturbed him, and he didn’t have that option now. There was his mother, but Jason had insisted that if Ferran had a problem with something concerning their personal lives, he talk to Jason before he talk to Grenn. Jason just couldn’t take his mother-in-law being more involved in their private business than she already was. From what he knew about his husband, however—and it was clearer every day that he still had a lot to learn—Ferran was more likely to keep quiet than bring up something he thought might upset Jason.
Time continued to creep by, one month and then another disappearing in slow, steady days. Jason experienced the dry season, which meant that their part of the continent had a period of about a month and a half where the rain fell only once a day, instead of interminably. The dryness in the air was refreshing for Jason, and he went to the garden whenever he could make the time, usually while Ferran was still asleep, to look at the sun—actually look at it—and experience the world without his eyes burning and his throat clogging. Occasionally, Ferran came with him, getting pleasure out of Jason’s pleasure, even though the dryness wasn’t his favorite thing. Jason didn’t know how he and his cousins had traveled on climate-controlled ships for a year without desiccating.
Officially, the twins were still in their adjustment period and weren’t talking to anyone outside the House of Lronn. Unofficially, Grenn had seen them numerous times, and Corran was training with their house’s duelist, so he saw them as well. From all reports, they were doing fine, tasked with taking care of the youngest children and filling their new roles with determination.
“But they are bored,” Corran added. “Neyarr said it is much more exciting over here, and Garrell wished that Ylenn would let them bring their holo emitter over. But they are having a lot of sex with the other consorts, so that makes them happy.”
Jason pinched his fingers on the bridge of his nose and considered explaining to Corran the concept of Too Much Information, but sexual privacy was as rare as every other kind of privacy here, and he figured it would be a lost cause.
At the beginning of his fourth month on Perelan, things were going as smoothly as Jason felt he could reasonably expect. He and his husband had their stilted, difficult moments, and yes, the comic relief was mostly gone with the twins, but a lot of the small stressors of life, like absolute inability with language, learning about Perel foods, and understanding what his House expected of him, were going away. Jason still spoke terrible Perel, but he had enough of the basics that he could work with the occasionally garbled sentences that came through in his translator. He and Ferran alternated cooking duties.
The classes he taught were going well, for the most part. Seronn seemed to have settled down, with perfect attendance and a watchful demeanor that made Jason uneasy without knowing why. He didn’t bring it up to anyone, although from the brooding looks Corran was giving the other Perel, there was something in the emotional undercurrent that merited caution. Jason just didn’t know what it was.
“It” happened in a moment when he had been called out of class to re
ceive a message from Grenn—not the sort of thing Jason could ignore, no matter how much he felt that a request to see her after class could have waited. When he returned to the classroom, Corran and Seronn were facing off with each other in the center, their growls so low and fast they were almost a hiss and their quills sharp and rigid enough that they pulled the skin up with them, giving the Perels a strangely tortured look.
The rest of the students had backed away, their eyes wide, whines of surprise and fear coming from their throats.
“What the hell is this?” Jason yelled, pushing past his trembling students and between the angry males. “What’s going on?” Neither of them said anything, but there was a satisfied look in Seronn’s face that Jason didn’t like seeing.
Seronn growled something vaguely intelligible, but before Jason could react, Corran yelled, “Speak his language in this place, filth!”
“Your mouth will kill you,” Seronn said darkly. “I will see to that.”
“What happened?” Jason projected his voice like he was commanding troops, and even though he hadn’t used that skill since retiring from the military, it was still effective. The pair’s quills relaxed a trifle, and they settled back onto their heels instead of leaning forward into each other’s faces.
“He spoke terribly of you,” Corran said hotly. “You left, and he turned to me and said that you are unfit to live here, that you are weak like an underfed pup, and that he looks forward to taking Ferran into his own house and using him like a lesser consort would be used. I told him he is wrong, he is filth and dirt and a liar, and he—”
“I challenged him to prove it, and he accepted,” Seronn said, and the gloating in his voice was unmistakable. “He is the duelist of the House of Grenn, and I am duelist for the House of Tlann. We will duel to prove who is right.”
“And I will beat you!” Corran shouted.
The implications sank in almost too fast for Jason’s body to react. All the ways that this could go flashed through his mind, and none of them were good for Corran if he dueled.