“Grand enough,” Sark rumbled, frowning a little. “But I think we’re getting off the subject, my lady. I believe I was asking you about what being a Moonstone goddess entails?”
“Oh…” I bit my lip and looked down at my plate. I did not much want to discuss this subject with my new guard and I think he could sense that for when next he spoke, his words were apologetic.
“I’m sorry if you don’t want to talk about it, but part of my job here is apparently to make you, uh, ‘glow.’ So I need to know all about you and how to do that.”
“A Moonstone goddess is a rare female who passes on mostly recessive genes to her offspring,” I said, still looking at my plate. I did not wish to speak of how he might bring on my glow. It was a private matter—too embarrassing to go into with a stranger.
“Recessive genes?” He lifted his eyebrows. “Meaning the baby you have will look exactly like its father, right?”
“Exactly.” I nodded and looked up at him. “Baslik’s father, the Prince, has declared that whichever of his sons produces an heir who most resembles the Le’rank family in appearance shall inherit his title after his death.”
“They want a kid that looks like them?” The giant made a face. “I mean, beauty is in the eye of the beholder but Le’rank’s not anything I would think a female would care for. I was wondering how he got such a beautiful Elite for his bride until you told me about your, uh, ‘reduced circumstances.’”
“Oh, well…thank you.” I could feel my cheeks heating with a blush. I didn’t know what an “Elite” was but it seemed to mean something complimentary.
“So Le’rank is in a race for the throne, hmm?” the giant rumbled. “That explains a lot.”
“Yes. And his twin brother’s wife has already had one child and is currently carrying another,” I told him. “The first was a girl, who cannot inherit the throne. But if the second is a boy…” I trailed off.
Sark nodded again.
“No wonder he’s so damn desperate to make you ‘glow.’”
“Yes, I suppose so.” I began buttering a piece of toast. “Tell me, Mr. Sark, why do you think my husband hired you for such a job when your main occupation is as a bodyguard—excuse me—a Security Specialist?” I gave him a sidelong look. “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, you look more like a space pirate than an expert in feminine matters.”
“Space pirate—I like that!” Sark barked a laugh and shook his head. “Well, your husband seems to think I can succeed where he failed because I’m a Kindred—we’re considered to be very good with females—even those of us who look like space pirates,” he added.
“Are you? And why?” I asked, truly interested to hear his answer.
Sark shrugged, his broad shoulder rolling under the leather vest he wore.
“Probably because we believe females are our equals—we don’t talk down to them or treat them like chattel like so many males in humanoid societies do.”
I thought of how Baslik had basically bought me with the bride price he’d paid into Nana’s account—money that had doubtless gone to my uncles now to fund their endless gambling and whoring. What would it be like to live in a society where I could not be bought or sold and had equal rights to my husband? What would it be like to be looked at as a person who counted, instead of a ‘life support system for a womb’ as Baslik had called me?
“Do you truly believe that women and men should be equal?” I asked my new guard.
“Of course I do.” He frowned. “Just because a female is generally physically weaker than the male in most species doesn’t mean she’s less of a person—less deserving of rights and respect.”
“That’s a very surprising opinion,” I told him.
“Well, it shouldn’t be.” He scowled and I found myself thinking that he seemed to have very strong views on the subject.
“But you believe this even though you’re only half Kindred?” I asked. “I mean, you said you were on your father’s side, correct?”
“No, I’m Kindred on both sides—I’m just a Hybrid.” He took a sip of lumba juice and grimaced—probably due to its tartness. “My father was a Giant Kindred and my mother was a rare Drake Kindred female.”
“A Drake Kindred? What’s that?” I asked curiously.
“A type of Kindred who has a Drake within him—a kind of dragon that breathes flame or ice,” he explained. “But don’t worry,” he added quickly, no doubt seeing my alarmed expression. “Being a Hybrid, I don’t have one myself. So I promise not to suddenly turn into a scaly beast at the breakfast table.”
“Well, that’s certainly a relief.” I smiled as I took a sip of my slippa tea and then picked up my toast again.