The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride

“Nothing good, I’m sure,” Need muttered. He was trying not to imagine what might happen to Lan’ara if Senator Pouncenblast didn’t like her for some reason. Also, his friend’s words were making him very uncomfortable.

“So if I understand you right,” Psoas said, “You took Drung’s word for all these things he said were bad about Lan’ara and because she admitted to some of what he said, you decided to get rid of her. And you never actually read this infamous file yourself.”

“No, I didn’t, Gods damn me,” Need muttered. “I was just so angry. I felt like she’d been manipulating me from the start!”

“Wouldn’t you try to manipulate someone if it was a matter of life or death?” Psoas asked pointedly.

“Well…” Need shifted uncomfortably. “Manipulation isn’t the way of a warrior,” he said at last.

“Sure.” Psoas shrugged, his long body rippling. “Because a warrior is big and strong and he can generally get whatever he wants when he wants it, without having to depend on anyone else. But what if you were smaller, physically weaker, and you were in the hands of that very same warrior? A warrior you hoped to get to protect you and not hurt you?”

“All right, Gods damn you—you’ve made your point,” Need growled. “I should have given it some thought before I sold her. But you know my past—how I lost my mate. And the whole time I had Lan’ara, I was fighting against feeling for her. When I thought she’d made me feel for her anyway, on purpose, I just…” He shook his head. “I just lost it.”

“Nobody can make you fall in love, Need,” Psoas said softly. “It’s something that just happens. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“Well…” Need sighed morosely. “It’s too late for regrets now. She’s the property of another male and she’s living in a big, beautiful, luxurious house.”

“I hope she’ll be happy there.” Psoas didn’t sound at all convinced. “Though I know I sure as hell wouldn’t be.”

Need frowned at him.

“How the hell are you so good at putting yourself in a female’s place, anyway?”

“Because my people spend half our lives male and half female,” Psoas explained. “Ah,” he went on, smiling at Need’s look of surprise. “Didn’t know that about me, did you? In my species, either you’re born male and become female around the age of twenty-five cycles or vice versa—you’re born female and become male. I’d already lived out the female part of my life before I became the engineer for The Dark Star and met you, old friend. I never told you because I thought you might look at me differently—like you are now.”

“I’m not offended or disgusted,” Need told him quickly. “Just surprised. I never would have thought…I mean, the way you visit whorehouses…”

“I only go to the ones where the sex workers are willing participants and make their own money without a pimp,” Psoas remarked, frowning. “A male has needs, after all. And it’s not like there are many of my kind around, so I make do.”

“I just—” Need began.

“Well, I guess we’ll be searching for a new Second Mate.”

They both looked up, surprised, as Captain Glo’ll entered the room. The Cytovian was looking rather worse for the wear lately, Need thought. Most of his leaves were brown and withered and he moved like an old man as he sat down at the head of the table, in his customary spot.

“What do you mean?” Psoas asked, frowning.

“I mean that Drung just gave me his notice.” Glo’ll frowned. “Didn’t he tell either of you on his way out?”

“Oh his way out? What are you talking about?” Need was getting a bad feeling in his gut, though he didn’t know why, exactly. It ought to be happy news that the disgusting Trollox was leaving. But somehow he didn’t feel relieved—only anxious.

“And why did he leave?” Psoas asked.

“Well, we got a call from Genu Six. I was going to answer it myself since Need was off duty, but Drung offered to do it. He said he was expecting a personal communication.” Glo’ll shrugged, his dry brown leaves rustling with the movement. “So I let him take it. The call took less than a minute but when he got off, he came and gave me his notice and asked for his share of the profits from the sale of the yarrow root.”

“That was a lot of money,” Psoas pointed out. “What was he planning to do with it?”

“I don’t know.” Glo’ll shook is head. “He just said something about taking time off to have an heir and then he cleaned out his room and left. Well…” He made a face and some thorns grew from his cheekbones. “When I say ‘cleaned’ I’m speaking figuratively. The place is a complete sty. I’m afraid I’ll have to hire a cleaning service the next time we make port. Serves me right for hiring a Trollox in the first place, I suppose.”