Page 23 of When the Universe Sings

“I think he has a crush on you,” Zoleka continued, but the grin on her face fell slightly along with the arm holding the dress.

A rushing filled my ears and I smoothed out my expression despite my skin crawling. Even when I reminded myself that Maxtalen had been nothing but kind, nausea churned through my stomach. He was a quiet companion on the nights I couldn’t sleep, only occasionally offering information about the section of the quadrant we passed through or the planets around us. There had been moments where his interest slipped, like the night he’d told me my voice was beautiful, but they were few and far between.

Even still, my chest clenched and I fought back the memory of calloused hands on me, the bite of blood on my tongue from another. Those guards from Ebyd III were never more than a heartbeat away in my mind.

Zoleka’s expression filled with too much understanding as she put the dress aside and picked up a different one. “I’d rather you tried these others instead.”

With a sigh, I forced my shoulders to relax, taking the deep blue gown from her outstretched hand.

I tried each on in turn, grateful when she turned around to look out the window without my asking. The dresses were a bit loose on me, given her generous curves and my lack of them from cycles of starvation not even my stay on theDaskquahcould fix. Each time I slipped into a flowing dress, she turned and waited for me to shrug before humming her approval or frowning her disapproval.

“This one, I think,” she finally said, inspecting the silvery floor-length gown.

It was diaphanous, like the clouds that had clung to my home planet in the winter. A deep vee sliced through the center, cutting almost to my navel, though I was sure on her it would have stopped around her breastbone. I frowned down at it, my arms spread wide as I experimentally twisted my wrists, the shimmering black stones dripping from my shoulders and elbows rattling with the movement.

The comm system flashed green, signaling me to the hangar, and we left my rooms. I didn’t have to wonder why it had been the right choice for long. Not when faced with Captain Ruciyah waiting for me beside the small cruiser, his attention sliding down to the hem of the gown and up again.

It was the exact color of his eyes.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Captain Ruciyah heldthe upper half of his helmet in one gloved hand, the other extended toward me.

I didn’t take it, only lifted my skirts so they didn’t catch on the lip of the ramp and moving past him. His hand closed into a fist before dropping to his side. By the time I’d settled in my seat, ignoring the looks from Crux and Greabes, who were apparently joining us on this trip—Crux outfitted in a similar style he’d worn on Keva Um’plem with half his face covered—the captain’s helmet was firmly in place and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Nice,” Crux commented dryly.

“Shut it,” Captain Ruciyah snapped, thethwackon the back of Crux’s head echoing through the cockpit.

I ignored them, buckling into the seat and staring straight ahead. I’d twisted my hair up with a comb I’d found in the bottom of my bag, but now I had the urge to tug it out and hide behind whatever I could.

“Hey!” Crux started. “I?—”

“I’d love one uneventful day,” Greabes interrupted, priming the fuel. “One day of silence.”

Crux’s indignant scoff was drowned out by the engines coming online, rumbling off the walls of the hanger and directed back at us. Another few heartbeats later and the expanse of space lay before us. In the distance a ship waited that was obviously our destination, from the lavish chrome panels and glittering orbs that had to be impractical for most atmospheric entries. Which meant the ship in front of us almost never dockedplanetside and was kept running by expensive space station maintenance.

“Leave the talking to me,” Captain Ruciyah warned as Greabes maneuvered us into docking position.

“You’re wasting your breath,” Crux sneered, tugging the bottom of his cowl up a little higher to better cover his nose and mouth.

The captain swiveled in his chair as the cruiser lurched and Lesephous’ docking gear drew us into the main hold. “I wasn’t talking to her. I was talking to you.”

Crux spluttered, a few curses mingling with his irritation.

“The answer you’re looking for,” Greabes started as he flicked a few buttons on the controls, “is ‘yes, Captain.’”

Whatever his response was, I didn’t hear it. Not when we landed in one of the most lavish hangars I’d ever seen, complete with a mosaic depicting the starburst of the Galactic Federation. It was the same symbol branded on my skin, covered by the fine fabric and glittering stones. We sat in silence as the engines powered down and stared.

“Bastards,” Crux muttered, punctuating the curse with the release of his belts.

Greabes hummed his agreement. I waited for the three of them to rise before I followed, my tongue suddenly thick at the sight of Captain Ruciyah waiting for me. Again, his hand was outstretched as if he thought I’d take it, but his attention stayed fixed on the ramp lowering, coolant misting out around it to obscure the hangar from view.

I skirted around him, smoothing the front of the gown and rolling my shoulders. But he was there at my side in another breath, too close for comfort with his wide hand pressing against my lower back.

“Yeskas walk behind their masters.”