They weren’t necessary, his words, though I liked hearing them anyway. And, if I could have answered the dumb brute then, I’d have told him that I loved him.
Too bad the lobba got in the way.
14
Essmira
It takes me three ohring solars to fully recover from my first brush with lobba-spiced ale. I spend the first lunar in Celia’s inn, the second I spend at Merquin and Librida’s. Raingar refuses to leave my side and irritates the comets out of my gracious hosts. To spare them, I agree to go with Raingar back to his keep on the third lunar.
Raingar steers me directly to his chambers, rudely waving off the creatures in the great hall who greet me as I pass. Had I not been so ill, I’d have shoved Raingar off and spent more time with them. As it is, I’m fairly grateful for Raingar’s rudeness.
Mostly, grateful.
Gorman meets us at Raingar’s chamber doors, looking fine in the robes I tailored for him. “It’s good to see you back, Essmira. I’m glad the rope I procured for you worked. I heard you had an excellent time at Winter’s End.”
I snort and giggle at the obvious teasing in Gorman’s tone, but Raingar just waves a large mitt at his friend and shouts, “Get out of my way, you bloody traitor!”
“Yeffa. Thank you Gorman. I’m so sorry I lost your cloak, but I couldn’t find it the coming solar and I don’t remember where I put it. I think I might have had a little too much fun with the lobba.” My arms cross instinctively over my sore and queasy stomach.
Gorman’s lips hitch up on one side. He blinks his large, black eyes and they glitter. “Yeffa. I heard. I also heard you gave Raingar a much deserved shower.”
I gasp, horrified, but the sound of Gorman’s laughter makes me smile. Raingar watches our exchange with round eyes and a slack jaw. “You…” He starts, then shakes his head. “I’ll get you another blasted cloak, Gorman. Now scram!”
Gorman straightens his robes and clutches his notebook close to his chest. He winks at me and I grin, giddy. I wink back. “When you are available, Raingar, there’s much to deal with. We have a fresh harvest of bulberry that needs distributing, a mating ceremony that requires your attendance, Walrey honey allocation between Leelee and Moreth — both are convinced that they need more of it than the other.
“We’ve also got an incoming delegation of Asgid arriving to procure kintarr. The local Asgid population would like to throw a festival — something called an Ashashana — to celebrate with their community and need your keep to do it, it’s the only place big enough. Lastly, one of our trading ships was intercepted by a band of ohring Eshmiri and we lost seventy pouches of kintarr to them.”
“Ohring Eshmiri!” Raingar shouts. He throws open the doors to his chamber and I’m struck by an abundance of light. It had been gloomy and dark when I invaded his chambers before, so I didn’t get a good look at them. But seeing them now, my soul flits up out of my chest. They’re incredible and speak so much to the male who put them together like this. Beautiful.
I glance past Gorman, distracted from the topic at hand by the huge, stunning painted glass that covers almost the entire span of wall. Brilliant kaleidoscoping colors paint beautiful portraits in pale pinks, greens and oranges all across the deep green carpet-covered floor. A small collection of sturdy hide and wego fiber seats face one another beneath the window. Bookshelves cover a visible wall.
“What are you looking at?” Raingar grunts.
I smile. “Your chambers. I didn’t get a good look before. They’re beautiful. They’re almost like what I imagine my own quarters would look like if I could have done them up myself.”
“Our chambers.”
“What?”
“They’re yours. I told you, you hold the keys. They’re yours. Well, and mine too, if I’m allowed.” He glances left and right, weight shuffling mechanically between his feet.
“You…were serious?”
“Am I ever not serious!” He shouts.
I grin, feeling airy and complete. Not fully, but nearly. “I’m not really sure how to answer that.”
Gorman chuckles and turns back to Raingar to discuss business. “So, where do you want to meet?”
I don’t know why, but as my gaze flickers over Raingar, still huffing about the Eshmiri, I blush all the way from the top of my head to my stomach. He looks at me. I quickly look away, but my thighs still pulse a little as I wonder… We said we would try for each other. I want to try again for pleasure. I want to know if I have the tools in my arsenal to truly experience it without any pain. I want to control the experience. I want to make it nice for him by making it nice for me. I should be able to. When it comes to pleasure, Igmora taught me everything.
But will he give me another chance?
Nob, not me — will he give himself?
I am miriga. I do what I like. And I. want. him.
“Raingar?”
“I, uhm, I…we…pagh! We’ll be ready to begin on the local items the coming solar. I’ll deal with the ohring Eshmiri later this one.”
“We, Raingar?” Gorman says.
“Yeffa. We. My miriga and I.”
I blush even harder. My heart picks up its pace. My fingers squeeze in the soft fabric of my shift. “You…you want to include me in the affairs of a clan chief?”
“Only if you aren’t too busy with Lyla and Timor.” Raingar looks at me over his shoulder as he stomps into his sitting room. He scratches the top of his head and has the audacity to look humble. The nerve of the brute.
My thumb scrapes over my scar and I exhale slowly. “I…wasn’t trained to be able to manage any of the things Gorman spoke of. I don’t think I’m qualified…”
“Of course you are. You’re our miriga. You’re smart and you’re kind and you know the village. You’re better placed to do half those tasks more than I. You’ve worked with Timor, Lyla, Leelee and Moreth,” he says, referencing the tailors, the female responsible for herb cultivation and distribution, and the lead healer of his village, “so you’ll help them with the bulberry and the Walrey honey disbursements. It would be a great honor for the couple if you’d oversee the mating ceremony — you don’t have to, of course, but asteroids only know that my clan likes you better than they like me, anyway.
“I’ll deal with the kintarr.” He grimaces a little as he says that and his gaze meets mine hesitantly. “Not that you couldn’t do it. I just have contacts that will help me deal with the ohring Eshmiri. And once I figure out what in the blooding stars that Asgid festival is, you can help me with that, too. What was it again, Gorman? An Ash…ash…ash what?”
“An Ashashana,” I answer. “It’s a festival of lights in worship of Ra, the flame spirit the Asgid believe power light to all of our stars.”
Both Gorman, from the doorway, and Raingar, from his seat in a deep, cushioned chair in his sitting room, stare at me. A beat passes before Raingar says, “I guess, you’ll also be organizing the festival then.”
“A little much to be handing Essmira all at once, don’t you think?”
“She can handle it.” His fingers pick at a nonexistent spot on the leather arm of his seat. “I trust her.”
Golden light in my chest swells and glitters over everything.
“I’m happy with this arrangement if she is,” Gorman says. “It will be a relief to have some more support in supporting Raingar. He takes on too much alone.”
“I thought as much. Merquin has over a dozen assistants but he leaves all of their work to you. You do an incredible job, Gorman, but I’d be honored to take some work off of your plate.”
Gorman’s fins bristle and I get the impression he’s unused to compliments. “Thank you, miriga. Your words are kind.” He swallows hard.
“They’re true. You should hear them more often.” I peg Raingar with a look.
He throws his hands up in the air. “The two of you are going to be the end of me. You, in particular.” He points at my nose. I stick my tongue out at him. He clenches his hand into
a fist and his eyes heat rapidly.
I bite my bottom lip and try to focus on the fact that we aren’t alone and have company. “I can…”
Gorman cuts me off. “You make a fine miriga, miriga.” He looks down at me with an expression that’s tender and soft.
“A wild one.” Raingar’s mouth forms a half smile, not quite realized. “But only if it is a title you want to have.”
My heart clenches. I step towards him and then skip, nearly jogging by the time I cross the floor and melt onto his lap. He grips the arms of his chair and I don’t care that he’s stiff or that he isn’t touching me. I remember more and more from my lobba-filled lunar and recall him dancing just like that. Like he was frightened to hurt me. I know he still is. But right now, I don’t care about any of it.
I crush my mouth to his and drink in his surprised gasp that tastes like sunshine and moss, that tastes purely like Lemora. Raingar grunts against my mouth, lips moving fiercely even though his touch is feather-light as it slides around my lower back.
I untangle myself slowly from the embers of desire that threaten to engulf me and him and the room with it, and he releases a desperate groan but he doesn’t try to hold me still. The female should always… This female never will again.
“It is an honor, Raingar.” His eyes, just as bright and as colorful as the window behind him, flood with desire, and spark with little joys. I kiss his nose. What compels me to, I don’t know. “When do I start?”
Raingar goes to answer but Gorman clears his throat. “Given that the Asgid delegation is set to arrive in the next moon rotation, I’d say you’re already late, miriga.”
15
Raingar
Watching her work is an inspiring thing. Turns out, Igmora managed to equip her with all the knowledge under the suns. It seems she’s good at everything and, when word gets out that she’s taking on more tasks — any tasks she chooses to accept — the desire for her assistance becomes a long list she can’t ever hope to accomplish in this lifetime, or the next.
But it’s an impressive thing to watch her try. Because that’s all she can do. Try for her clan, as she tries for me each lunar, pressing her body so temptingly against mine. I know she’s trying to break me but I’m not ready. Not yet.
But maybe…maybe soon?
And in the meantime, she continues her tailoring with Lyla, spinning bulberry fibers with Timor, producing pouches and pouches of her soothing horn oil with Leelee — she’s even been asked to step in to provide courses on stretching and breathing by Moreth who often finds himself inundated by Lemoran mine workers complaining of minor aches and pains that would better require her assistance than his.
The Asgid festival of lightning or sunshine or whatever the ohr it is dominates most of her time now. She has almost everything organized, acting as the intermediary between myself and the rowdy Asgids or just procuring directly the things that she needs for them. The only thing she lacks so far is a space to host it. But I…I have an idea for her. I’m just hesitating on whether or not to show her this solar, or the next, or the one after… Because I’ve been thinking about this for so long, dreaming of it. But am I ready to show her?
My mind says nob, but my body — my ohring cock — screams yeffa every chance it gets.
And my heart? It wants to do something for her. Something spectacular. Because she does so much for my people. And for me? She does even more for me.
She calls me Raingar.
“Raingar!” She jumps up when she sees me unoccupied on my throne. I’ve just finished dealing with the complaints of these hooligans who comprise my clan and was about to go seek her out for second meal. It looks like she’s found me first.
My lips twitch and I stand, descend the short steps that lead down from the throne, and catch her when she tosses herself up at me, like she so often does. I worry about hurting her, but with the new polishing technique Moreth helped me with, my skin glides smooth over hers, and no longer catches.
“What is it, Essmira?” I kiss her freely now and, like every time, I sway into her scent — pure Lemora, unblemished affection. It makes me want her so desperately, I could pull stars from the sky in offering, but I know that when I invite her to complete my mating bond, it won’t be like the first time. I want it to be perfect.
I set her feet down onto the floor below, and though I might not cause her pain anymore with my touch, the same isn’t true for her. She glides painfully over the exposed skin of my chest, her breasts pushing against me through her thin dress. Why is it so ohring thin? I need to get thicker fabrics here on Lemora. Maybe, the Voraxian clan living on the ice planet, Nobu, will have furs I can buy next time I run into them.
“Essmira?”
She looks ready to burst, stars in her eyes like a youngling at the fire celebrations in the north. “Bebette told me that you heard from the Raku of Voraxia!” She bounces on her toes in anticipation.
I scowl, “Bebette has a large ohring mouth!”
She squeals, “So it’s true? And you spoke to him about me?”
“I’m not saying anything!”
She shrieks and grabs hold of my arm so tight that her blunt little claws form half moons on my thick skin. “Oh my stars oh my stars oh my stars, is it true? Is it?”
“Is what true?”
“That he’s truly taken a half-Drakesh, half-human female for a mate? A female who is the same hybrid as me?”
“Perhaps,” I offer. It’s all that I’ll offer. I’m not going to ruin the surprise any more than Bebette already has. She opens her mouth, but I clap my palm over her soft, tantalizing lips. “Now, enough of that talk! I’ll not say any more about human hybrids!”
Her jumping stills and her hands fall off my arm. I release her mouth and she licks her lips. Now, it’s her turn to give me a funny look. “But what about the meeting scheduled for later this solar? I won’t be permitted to attend? I thought it might have something to do with Raku and his mate. At least, that’s what Bebette thought. That’s the only reason she told me…”
“What? What meeting?”
“There is an Egama battleship in need of repairs. It had just docked at clan Bebette when I left to come find you. They have a hybrid-human on board.”
My gut sours immediately. Immediately. I don’t even question the foul sensations my mate’s revelation stirs. This isn’t right. I know it. And my instincts are never wrong. Never. I’m clan chief for a reason.
A protective flare grips me and I immediately step closer to Essmira while shouting out for Gorman. “Gorman, I need you.”
The male must be alerted to something in my tone because he looks up with a frown and immediately abandons the cluster of Rekkaru he’d been helping unload supplies from their cart. He stops in front of us, gaze focusing on my hand as it slides around Essmira’s waist.
“Is everything alright Raingar? Miriga?” All four of the fins sticking out of the sides of his head simultaneously twitch.
“Do you know of the Egama battleship that docked on Lemora? Essmira says it docked with Bebette.”
“Nob, I… Do you want me to check the holo screens and see if Bebette or the other clan chiefs are available?” I hate using the holo screens and almost never do, preferring to send a messenger or go directly to the other keeps myself, if urgent.
“Maybe, it’s best if you go…”
“Are you speaking of the Egama?” It’s one of the Rekkaru. He’s newer to our planet, a recent addition to my clan after he relocated from Kor, and he hasn’t fully picked up Lemoran yet. “I come from there now. Bebette entertain two Egama while kintarr…” He searches for a word, wings flapping animatedly behind him. Many other villagers in my great hall have stopped moving and are listening in. “Fuel. Kintarr for ship.”
I frown, gut hardening along with my grip on Essmira’s waist. I think back to the Egama warriors I fought for her, not liking their presence on our planet, even though stopping by for a refuel is not an uncommon occurrence. Something i
sn’t right with this.
“Did you hear anything about a human on board?”
“Hoomayn? What is hoomayn?”
Essmira waves her hand and offers the Rekkaru a bright, bright smile. “I am. I am half human-half Drakesh.”
The Rekkaru male stares at her with globes for eyes. “Apologies! I nob offense meaning.”
“Nob! Not at all.” Essmira offers him a Lemoran greeting, catching the air and bringing it to her chest. “You did not offend me. Humans are not a known species in the Quadrants. I just hoped to be able to travel to Bebette’s keep and find out for myself if the rumors circulating the village are true.”
For the first time in my life, I regret that we have not adopted the life drives of the Voraxians or the yeeyar tokens of the pirates. Even the Eshmiri use outdated yamar to communicate with one another among the stars, but we do most of our talking in person. Only when we need to barter transactions do we go to our holo screens and I know that Bebette won’t be at hers if she’s entertaining off-world guests at present. I rub my chin and look down into my mates hopeful face. How can I tell her nob?
Something is wrong.
The thought penetrates again and I do something I haven’t done in the past nineteen solars that we’ve been getting along. I deny her. “Essmira, I need you to…” I choke, start over. “Could I ask you to wait here while I go to Bebette and see about our recent arrivals?”
She blinks, looking confused, and then frowns, looking heartbroken and frustrated. “I thought Gorman was going? Can’t I go along? I’m just as respected…” she winces. “Aren’t I?”
“Nob! Nob, Essmira.” And then I realize what I’ve said and grab either side of my face and wrench down. “Nob, that isn’t what I meant. Of course, you’re respected, I’m just…There’s just…I don’t have a good feeling about this. That’s why I’m not sending either of you. I’m going myself. I’m worried that it could be related to the Egama I slighted in Quadrant One. If they have another human, maybe he was desperate. Maybe they still are. Maybe…I…I don’t know! I just don’t know. But I don’t feel good.”
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