I can’t mate.
The trip—a short walk—takes twice as long as usual at Zina’s pace, and she surprises me by not asking a single question.
I have the sense she knows—or hopes she knows—where we’re going, but is afraid to ask in case I dash her hopes. Or perhaps she’s simply the type who enjoys a surprise.
I’m not.
I vecking hate surprises.
We reach the palatial dome and I tell the guard we’re here to see Bayla.
Zina catches her breath, and turns her gaze up to my face. I squeeze her hand. The guard leads us into a comfortable sitting room and tells us to wait.
“Tarek, did you… are we—” It’s like she’s afraid to ask.
“Yes, little human. I made an appointment with Doctor Daneth and used my time in his office to request a visit for you with Enya. But it turns out, they were already planning on it. The child isn’t adjusting well and misses you terribly.”
“Oh!” Zina covers her mouth with her hand. Then she throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you, Tarek,” she breathes beside my ear, then drops a dozen kisses along my cheek and temple.
I wrap my arms around her, careful not to squeeze my delicate human too hard.
I just hope this meeting doesn’t cause everyone more pain.
Zina
“Enya!” My whole body suffuses with joy. I grab her into my arms and hug her as tightly as I can. “Oh, Mother Earth. I missed you. Are you all right? How are you? Are you okay?” I grab her, let go, take her face into my hands. Kiss her short hair. Examine her pretty dress. “You look so beautiful, sweetling. Are you okay?” I can’t stop saying it. Can’t stop hugging her.
We’re both crying and laughing at the same time. “Look!” I hold up my trembling hand. “I’m shaking!”
“Me too!” She sobs and grabs me again. “Zina, I wanted you so much. I have to tell you everything.”
She smells different, and after a second, I recognize that it’s something missing, not an addition. There’s a lack of the acrid aroma of sweat, the cold adrenaline-laced dew that always broke out on our skin back on planet.
It’s a good change. Her face, too, is lighter. Easier.
“You look good.” I peer hard at her face.
“You do, too.” She examines me. “Happy.”
“I guess I am.” It’s a surprise, especially since I had missed her so much, but it’s true. “You, too?”
She purses her lips and looks to the side, and stiffens up. Looks at the lovely young female hovering in the doorway, hands twisted together.
I blink hard and step back. “I’d love to meet your mother.”
“Okay.” She takes my hand, almost defiantly. “Come on.” She squares her shoulders and sticks her jaw up. “Her name is Bayla.”
“I know.”
I know much about her. I’ve squeezed her life story out of Mirelle and Abbi and Kara.
I expect to have anger toward Bayla for keeping me away from Enya, but the instant I see her face, all I feel is sympathy and the desire to help her. Her expression is so full of hope and love and sadness… emotions I recognize on a fundamental level.
Instinctively, I hug her, and although she’s startled at first—I can tell by the way she’s stiff, she softens and hugs me back. Then we’re both crying.
“Thank you for raising and protecting my baby,” she says though her tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you see her. She raises her hand, as if she doesn’t know what to say.
“It’s all right,” I tell her. And suddenly, for the first time, it is. “I understand.” I look at Enya.