I take her hand and intertwine our fingers. She squeezes automatically. I raise our joined hands into the air to marvel at how small hers is compared to mine. How delicate. And yet, this little being held her own against Lanz, a deadly, well-trained warrior.
“Your hand is twice as big as mine,” she murmurs. “So huge.”
“You marvel at that, but what amazes me”—I squeeze her fingers a little—“is that you are so small, and yet so strong. How can that be?”
She shakes her head on the pillow, red hair all around her. “I’m just me. I train.”
“It’s incredible.” Lanz strokes her skin. “So soft and delicate. And yet you fight like a warrior.”
“And veck like one.” I smile.
She’s relaxed, and I love seeing her at ease for once, not fighting us or arguing for her freedom. I’m proud that we left her so content. Giving her pleasure is a vecking privilege. One I plan to continue for the rest of our lives.
“You said you trained? How?” Lanz asks.
I hold my breath, hoping she won’t clam up again.
“Since I could walk, I learned to fight. My sister taught me. And I had other instructors, too.”
“On Jesel?”
She nods. “That’s where I’ve lived, my entire life.”
“Not a slave.” I’m surprised.
“Born free.” There’s pride in her voice. “We’re a small group there, some humans who escaped and started a colony, of sorts. Try to rescue others. My sister a
nd I were both born free.” She blinks hard. “I don’t remember my mother. But my father taught us to fight, and survive, and every human who comes teaches what they know.”
“But how did you learn to build a craft. To fly like that?” I twist to look at her face. “Without flight school, real instructors. It’s impossible.”
“I assure you it’s not.” Her laugh lacks humor. “Desperation is a fantastic instructor. I’m sure you know, from your experience with the Finn. When you absolutely need to make something happen, you find a way.”
Lanz and I stroke her beautiful body and wait for more. She rewards our patience. “We scavenge, barter, steal. Do what we can. Learn from old holograms. Practice, try. Stay under the radar. It’s not easy, but every time I rescue a human, it’s worth it.”
“You’ve accomplished much,” Lanz murmurs. “You really rescued fifty-odd humans?”
“Yes.”
“In that very craft.”
“That exact one.” Loss flickers over her face. “It’s entirely ruined?”
“We towed it back, but…yes. It’s not operational, and I doubt it can be made so again without significant effort.” I eye the little human. If we’re not careful, she’ll be out there trying to fix it and fly away from here in a heartbeat. “I don’t even understand how you fly in that. It’s like you’re blind, without modern instrumentation.”
“At first, yes,” she explains. “But then I developed a sense for what was coming. Do you know what I mean?”
We stare back at her, blankly.
“It’s like I can often sense disruptions before I see them. Like I know where asteroids will be, or debris. Space currents.”
My heart tumbles in my chest. She’s special—I knew it. Like the king’s human mate, gifted with sight.
“You didn’t see us, though.”
“Well, you were cloaked. Asteroids, as far as I’m aware, have so far not opted to hide themselves from view.” She rolls her eyes. “And thank stars for that, because otherwise nobody could navigate.”
The haze of sexual satisfaction must have begun to fade, or else the topic caused her thoughts to plummet because her expression clouds.