Strange Love

by Aguirre, Ann

  Gross. Extra gross. It was like Ryzven thought she was begging for a chance to become his pleasure slave. The nutrition cube she’d eaten earlier lurched into her throat.

  Keep it together.

  “What do I need to do to be safe?” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry to say that I cannot save your companion. The furry one broke our sacred covenant and such missteps must be dealt with harshly. Do you understand?”

  To be with you, I have to let you kill Snaps. Over my dead body, you monster.

  “Oh.” She pretended to stumble, letting go of his claws in the motion. “That is dreadful news.”

  He reached out to hold her up, offering sympathy fake as a three-dollar bill. “I’m so sorry. I will comfort you to the best of my ability. I promise that your life with me will far surpass any dreams you may have had.”

  Unless he meant dreams of hell, that was impossible. She schooled her features, though she wasn’t sure if he could read her expressions anyway.

  She bit her lip. “I understand.”

  “Soon, the Council will deny your approval with Zylar, and he will be taken as a drone. You will then be free.”

  “Free to be…yours?” she whispered.

  “Yes, little one. It’s to be expected that you would prefer a powerful patron. I will keep you safe.”

  Sure you will, asshole.

  “I can’t go back to Zylar under the circumstances, but I can’t stay with you either, can I?” Beryl aimed her most melting, wide-eyed stare at the big jerk, though it might not impact an alien the same way.

  “I will not permit you to stay in his residence under false pretenses,” Ryzven said, in such a peremptory tone that she wished she could pee on him to show her true feelings, like Snaps.

  “Then where…?”

  “There is space in the intended dormitories after various losses. I will procure facilities for you.”

  “Is there a way you could put me near Kurr while I’m waiting? Everything is so strange here, and I’ll be so scared otherwise, if you’re not there.” That was clearly so much bullshit that she expected even this asshat to notice how full of it she was, but he must be part dung beetle because he ate it up like it was both piping hot and delicious.

  He churred, a sign of amusement, and his neck ruff frilled even more. Clearly this weirdo was into overly needy partners. Probably made him feel like a big damn deal. She might hurl if she didn’t get out of here soon.

  “That is certainly within my power. Just a moment, I will make the request and rush it through for immediate approval.”

  “Thank you, Ryzven.” You absolute fuckface. “Um, this might be asking too much, but I mentioned to Kurr that I know you, and they were so impressed. Maybe you could favor them with an introduction someday?”

  He really enjoyed the groveling approach. She could tell by the way he straightened and stood a bit wider at the terminal as he worked on her temporary lodgings. Fuck, Zylar’s going to lose his mind when he realizes I’m not coming home. I can’t right now, love. Hopefully he’d understand that it was only because of her pledge to Kurr. Uncertain as he’d been when they first got together, she didn’t know if his self-worth could run this gamut.

  “Kurr is the Greenspirit who performed so admirably in the Choosing?”

  “Yes, I would have been lost without them. I was so lucky to meet such a powerful friend on my first day.”

  “Luck and charisma are your true gifts,” said Ryzven in a faintly patronizing tone. “A little thing like you draws stronger souls who desire to offer…protection.”

  Yeah, right.

  Beryl barely restrained her desire to kick him as hard as she could. “Is that what happened?”

  “I suspect that is the case. And if you desire it, I can invite Kurr and their Chosen to my next gathering. You will be there as well, of course.” He didn’t say without Zylar, but that was understood at this point. Ryzven went on without waiting for her to agree.

  Farewell, free will.

  “You may leave your companion with Zylar. The Council will deal with them both appropriately.”

  He expected her to simply nod, so she did.

  “Excellent. You are so very sweet. I look forward to all the pleasures that await us.”

  “So do I.” Beryl threw everything she had into that glowing smile.

  “There, your approval has arrived. I’ll send someone to collect your things and have them delivered.”

  “I don’t have much,” she whispered.

  “It hardly matters. I’ll provide everything you need.”

  “I can’t believe you’re willing to do this for me. Your generosity is beyond all expectations.” That was the best she could do, so sick of this charade that she just wanted to get this over with.

  “Can you find your quarters? I must get back to my experiments.”

  It was more like he couldn’t risk the scandal of escorting her. He didn’t want her to keep clinging, so she said the right thing. Luckily it also got her away from him.

  “I can find it. I know where Kurr lives.”

  “Your new quarters have been assigned within their residence.”

  “Thank you again, Ryzven.”

  “My pleasure, little one. I’ll send word about the gathering.” With that, she was dismissed.

  Beryl rushed out before she could say something that would destroy all her efforts to suck up and make him think she didn’t hate his guts. How could anyone be this fucking dense? Damn.

  God, but she wanted to go home.

  Not yet. You can’t.

  She got on the wrong sky car or rather, it was heading in the wrong direction. At first, the car was crowded, and she got all kinds of stares from passing Barathi, but when she ignored all attempts to communicate, they left her alone as she rode around the fringes of the alien city, watching the light fade from the sky.

  It was late by the time she made her way to the dorms, once more reduced to only the clothes on her back. But her stuff had beaten her to the room, and the door slid open, already coded to her DNA.

  Inside, it was sparse, with nothing she recognized as furniture. That lack made sense, as the dorms had to house so many different species.

  Would Ryzven know if she called Zylar? Better not to risk it.

  Instead, she went to Kurr’s room and filled them in, then she added, “I hope your plan works. I’m out on a ledge here, and it’s a long way down.”

  “Have faith,” they said in an eerily serene and confident tone. “The ancestor trees have promised. Vengeance shall be mine.”

  21

  Ryzven wasted no time and presented himself to gloat soon after Beryl left.

  He couched it as a service, collecting her belongings, but the worker he’d brought with him did all the fetching and carrying, not that Beryl had much. Her possessions were so meager that shame washed over Zylar. He didn’t know what her life had been like on Aerth, but here, she was making do with so little.

  “You’ve offered her such meager prospects,” Ryzven said in a smug tone. “I knew she would come to me in the end.” His tone said that it was inconceivable that any sentient being could resist his charm or his colors.

  Zylar’s spines spiked before he could control them, then he let his aggression show. Such hostility would sell their story. “Take what you require and go,” he snarled.

  “This place will not belong to you for much longer,” Ryzven said. “You should prepare for service.”

  Life as a drone.

  “A day or two will not matter. Perhaps the Council will surprise you.” Desperate hope would amuse his nest-mate, providing greater entertainment when both Zylar’s hearts broke upon the inevitable denial.

  “I’m sure it helps to tell yourself that.” Ryzven turned, gesturing impatiently at the worker waiting with Beryl’s things. “We’re finished here.”

  “Why are you so determined to take her?” he asked, knowing the question would feed Ryzven’s insatiable self-importance
. “She can’t even be your nest-guardian while you’re bonded to Miralai.”

  Ryzven churred, a pleased sound that sent quivers of disquiet through Zylar’s entire body. “Life is not a static process. One never knows how the situation can change.” That sounded like an oblique threat, but before he could respond, Ryzven added, “But you already know that well enough. You were so close to success this time. So close.”

  With that, Ryzven and his helper left as Snaps growled, “That guy is the worst.”

  “Most assuredly.”

  For the first time since the nest Beryl had invented arrived, Zylar faced a lonely night. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in their shared space without Beryl, but when he tried to return to his usual arrangement, Snaps whimpered and pawed at his lower limb.

  “When is she coming home?”

  “Soon,” Zylar said, hoping it was true.

  In the end, he slept in the nest with Snaps draped over him, but his rest was plagued with unease that drifted toward outright fear, jerking him awake with both hearts racing more than once. Perhaps I imagined the danger. Would Ryzven truly plot against his own nest-guardian to acquire one more intriguing and unusual?

  The likely answer did not make for a peaceful night.

  In the morning, he fed Snaps and ate his own meal without savor. He didn’t know how such a revelation would impact Kurr’s scheme, but he should share his suspicions with Miralai. If some tragedy befell her, and he’d done nothing to stop it, he would share the culpability with Ryzven.

  Still considering the best course, he took Snaps to the garden to play, and by the time they got back, he’d made up his mind. “Helix, do you have a log of my conversation with Ryzven?”

  “Certainly. It took place in the common area and was not deemed private beforehand.”

  “Perfect. Send a copy to my mobile.”

  “You plan to inform Miralai that she may be in danger? This is the moral choice, but it may cause difficulties for your companions. Have you considered—”

  “I have, but I can’t be sure that I can communicate with Kurr safely. Ryzven will certainly be watching Beryl and possibly Kurr as well. If I’m caught warning Miralai on my own, the impact on anyone else should be minimal.”

  “Understood. I could analyze potential outcomes and offer numerical probabilities, but I suspect you would not find that helpful at this juncture.”

  “Thank you, Helix. Where is Miralai?”

  “Scanning. She is in the habitat she shares with Ryzven, who is ensconced in his lab.”

  “Then I should act now, while I have the chance.”

  “I prefer statistics,” Helix said, “but I will wish you luck nonetheless.” The AI paused a beat, then added, “Because I will be wiped if you become a drone.”

  Zylar churred. “I’ll do my best to keep you safe, old friend. That will never change, no matter what happens with the Council ruling.”

  “Play with me, Helix!” That was Snaps, getting ready to chase the cleaning unit.

  Zylar slipped out while the fur-person was otherwise engaged, and headed for the station. Memories tapped away at his composure: Beryl’s awe of the cityscape and the way he’d protected her from the press of Barathi bodies.

  It’s not forever. This separation will end, if not with our approval, then with a fresh start off-world.

  There was no way she’d succumb to Ryzven’s blandishments, and she wasn’t the sort of person who would slip into Miralai’s position without remorse.

  It was impolite to visit without an invitation, more so when the nest-guardian had a clutch to protect. Miralai and Ryzven’s offspring must be near to hatching, so the timing was terrible, but this warning couldn’t wait.

  Zylar touched the door and waited for the AI to welcome him or turn him away. To his surprise, neither happened. Miralai came to meet him herself. She was quite a gorgeous Barathi, and she had dazzled the audience the year she competed in the Choosing. No one had been surprised when someone so gifted and lovely chose Ryzven.

  He feared she might have come to regret that decision, and if she didn’t, his visit could ruin her life. Dismay didn’t deter him from his purpose. He had to tell her what he knew and damn the consequences.

  “This is unexpected,” Miralai said. “I haven’t seen you since Ryzven and I formalized our bond.”

  Ryzven had discouraged any of his close kith from developing a relationship with Miralai, possibly to keep her isolated and without recourse.

  “I’m sorry to be so discourteous, but my visit couldn’t wait.”

  “If it’s urgent, please come in.”

  Miralai preceded him into the main room, a soulless space adorned with items that spoke of wealth, without revealing any information about the habitat’s occupants. In the city, a nest-guardian’s duties must be largely ceremonial, ensuring that the environment remained hospitable for the clutch. With Ryzven busy chasing Beryl, Miralai must be alone a great deal.

  “There’s no easy way to tell you this, but your bond mate is pursuing my intended. He has alienated her affections, and today, he removed her belongings from my domicile personally.”

  Her spines flared, quickly restrained. “That must be…painful, Zylar. But this is not news, precisely. Ryzven has been known to…dally before, and when he loses interest, he always returns to our nest.”

  In a way, it was a relief that she knew that Ryzven was faithless flavork; it might even make it easier to hear the next part.

  “Then let me share this conversation with you. If you still feel untroubled, I will have cleared my conscience.”

  Her nictitating membrane flickered, giving away her silent unease. “If you must.”

  Zylar activated the holo of the exchange that had taken place the day before, including the hint of a threat. A taut silence followed, as he waited for some reaction, then she slowly sank into a crouch, a posture of abject grief.

  “He means to supplant me,” she breathed.

  “I fear so. Please be wary in the coming days. This is all I can do for you, but if you are watchful, perhaps you can save yourself. Before it’s too late.”

  Miralai slowly stood, her spines full of aggression. “You risked much to offer me the chance to best Ryzven. No, more than that…to fight for my own survival. I will not forget your kindness, choosing to help me when silence would serve your kith more.”

  “I will never abet his crimes.”

  “Many thanks, Zylar. I hope that you don’t suffer for your bravery.” She hesitated, then hastened to add, “Few have opposed Ryzven and come out well on the other side of such defiance.”

  “I know. And it doesn’t matter.”

  “Would you like to see the clutch? It’s a privilege I’ve offered no one else.”

  He gazed at her in surprise, membrane flickering. “I would be honored.”

  Miralai led him deeper into their habitat, through rooms that boasted endlessly of Ryzven’s achievements, to a cozy space, climate controlled to balmy warmth, light shining down on the eggs, the shell thin enough now that the light rendered them translucent, hinting at the shape of the hatchlings within. It was a modest clutch, only six, but Miralai clearly took pride in the welcoming creche she had created.

  “Joy to you and yours,” he said. “Blessings on the sleeping young.”

  “You respect the old ways.”

  “When circumstances call for it.”

  “You should go. Before someone spies you and wonders what you’re doing here.”

  “I came to congratulate you,” he supplied at once.

  She fell into the pretense as if she had been born for prevarication. “When the hatchlings are old enough, I’ll invite you to visit again.”

  “Thank you. Look after yourself until then.”

  Living alone sucked.

  Beryl had forgotten how much she hated it back in St. Louis in her crappy studio apartment, but it was worse in an alien dorm with basically no furniture. She was back to sleeping on the floor in
a bedcover bundle that she’d crafted from a freaking tarp. By the time Kurr showed up, she was ready to claw the shine off the ultramodern walls.

  Plus, she missed Zylar so much that her chest hurt. This out-bond thing was no joke. Somehow it felt deeper and more formal than dating, like it might kill her to be away from him for too long.

  Breathe. This is fine.

  “An invitation arrived for us on my terminal,” Kurr said.

  “From Ryzven?”

  “Yes. He sent it to me because you don’t have your own message center.”

  “And I couldn’t read it even if I did,” she said with as much fake cheer as she could manage.

  “You’re so unhappy. But the ancient grove has promised it will not be long.”

  How did Kurr communicate with these ancestor trees anyway? It felt entirely unhinged to hang a whole plan on the whispered promises of elderly arboreal advisors, but hell, once she got abducted and decided to roll with it since it was better than her old life, did she really need to draw the line at listening to venerable vegetation?

  “Well, if the trees said so…” Sarcasm probably didn’t translate, and she should rein it in since this morning, she was hungry and cranky. Hangry, even. This empty cube didn’t even have a food-making machine.

  “Have you eaten?” Kurr asked.

  “I wish. I never thought I’d miss tasteless nutrition cubes.”

  “You miss your Chosen,” Kurr said gently. “I too long for Arleb, but I must make do with Catyr. And vengeance.”

  Damn. That was stone cold. Poor Catyr. Poor Kurr. All because Ryzven was an avaricious asshole.

  “Uh. Yeah. Vengeance is good, I guess. Hugs are better.”

  “I remember this.”

  To Beryl’s amusement, Kurr stepped to her side and their fronds wrapped around her lightly, squeezing her with a comforting rustle. It was a deeply inhuman embrace, but something about the contact soothed her regardless, because it came from a friend.

  “Better,” she said, smiling.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur with Kurr dragging her around in hopes of finding another outfit, so she wouldn’t show up at Ryzven’s terrible party in the same clothes. This was a problem most beings on Barath didn’t deal with, and while Kurr did ask if she was comfortable attending undressed, Beryl had to pass on that one. If she ever decided to party naked, it damn sure wouldn’t be at an event hosted by Ryzven.