Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

* * *

Ever since Lanz and Domm let me try out my craft, something flipped on in my brain and won’t turn off. It’s a circuit stuck on GO. If I felt closer to them, like the three of us were one entity, I also felt the pull of Jesel in my blood, my bones.

It’s time to make my choice. The moment is here.

I can’t wait a solar cycle, or two, or ten. I need to get there now. Help my people now, if they need it. Answer the questions that burn me up and prevent me from making Zandia my home.

I sink forward, staring out the large window, not focusing on anything. I fly the path in my mind, the way through the Midrian belt. I was told one time that musicians practice the Kardish Harp in their minds, pressing strings and pulling the bow in their imagination, that doing it helps improve their skills in real life.

I go past the first asteroid belt, maneuvering around sudden rocks that spin out at me. It’s like dodging raindrops but once I get into the zone it always happens, the thing I told my mates about back then—it’s like I can sense them coming before they do. I know it’s not any magic, and that it’s my mind putting together trajectories based on subtle movements, but it definitely feels magical when it happens.

The door opens suddenly and I leap up, guilt making me hot, but my mates don’t seem to notice the deception that coats me like a new skin. How is it possible that my face isn’t pocked with ugly sores, my eyes aren’t leaking the poison that’s filling my mind?

Instead, Domm’s face pinches with worry.

“What is it?” I stand, and walk to him. “You never look this upset when you come home.” I put my hands on his chest. “Tell me and I’ll kill the ones who threaten you.”

He barely smiles. Usually my protective threats have him gazing into my eyes, brushing my neck with his lips. Chuckling as he tells me all about who makes the threats, and what will happen later in bed.

“It’s nothing.” He pushes my hands down; not unkindly, but efficient. He drops his flight bag and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m going to clean up.”

He heads right to the washtube, and to my surprise, he curses a few times, the words not masked by the streaming water.

When Lanz comes in, a similar scowl gracing his features, I cross my arms. “Tell me.”

“Nothing to tell. Just a long planet rotation. The usual.” He won’t meet my eyes as he sits in a chair and pulls off his boots.

“Really?” I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, leaning in to lick one horn.

He pulls away. “Not now, Mirelle.”

Ouch. I step back, hiding the hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He gets up and faces me. “It’s just…” He shakes his head. “We’re going to be off on a mission for a few planet rotations.”

“Where to?” My heart pounds.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Because I’m me?” I scowl. “I’m so sick of being left out of things.” Anger flushes through me, mingling with worry.

“It’s classified.” He shakes his head.

“But other people know?”

Domm comes back out of the washtube. He smells fresh, but his expression is still guarded. “We’ll be out of communication range, too.”

“Oh. I see.” I swallow. This is new.

He comes up to me and takes both my hands in his. “Will you be all right while we’re away?”

“I can take care of myself.” The urge to snap wells up and I push it down, because along with the irritation comes fear. Cold, acrid fear. “Is it dangerous?”

“No more than usual.” But he’s not meeting my eyes.

“Be careful.” I squeeze his hands harder. The truth is that every time they go on a mission, part of me lives in limbo until they’re home, back with me, safe in my arms. It’s a horrible, wonderful feeling, and I don’t know when they started meaning so much to me that they occupy the largest part of my heart.

It used to be that my sister lived in that chamber, and my father, and the humans on Jesel.