Page 13 of Summer

“Lady Gennelle,” she greets.

I thrust out the communication device in my hand, nearly colliding with her chest in the process. She takes it tenderly from my hand, her fingers brushing against mine. My hand retreats quickly, and I step back to create space between us.

“Tomorrow, we will fit you for more appropriate attire,” I tell her. She’s in a threadbare night gown, old and worn and patched in places. It does little to conceal her figure. My gaze travels down her body, snagging at the sight of her breasts through the material. Her nipples are hard and dark through the shift, and I snap my attention back to her face.

“We cannot have the town thinking we bought some uncivilized human,” I add sharply. Why is she wearing that? Doesn’t she have something else, something less distracting?

Before she can say anything, I turn and leave, but the image of her body under the shift follows me to my room and through the night.

7

SUMMER

Fucking alien technology – it changes so fast. I spend the better part of the night breaking down the security, trying to find a back way into the device. It’s tougher than I remember. I’m rusty, and the newer updates have patched holes that I used to be able to exploit easily.

Above all things I am stubborn. I will break the device before this house breaks me.

I am not afforded the luxury of sleeping in – it seems that the duke and duchess require breakfast, high tea, and dinner together. Handmaids tend to my hair and dress me in the plain clothes I brought with me from Protegre. They chatter in Tatinnish, unconcerned that I might hear them.

It’s frustrating to paint on that vacant look, as though I’ve no cares other than being the perfect human wife. I may be free from Protegre, but I am not yet free.

The breakfast conversation eludes me, so I don’t bother to follow, instead considering my options for escape. I’ll need an updated translator before I leave, so that delays my departure by a few days. There’s also the fact that I need to improve my fitness.

This becomes painfully apparent when I take an afternoon stroll around the grounds. Between the humidity and the hills, I’m breathless before the manor is out of sight and must stop several times on my walk home. Lady Gennelle was supposed to escort me; thankfully, she left the duty to the maidservant, Sessaly, that’s been assigned to me.

She’s pretty, if not a bit plain, with dark blue skin. Her face is angular, her gaze sharp. She purses her lips as she walks with me, not bothering to speak to me. That’s fine, I hate small talk. I’d rather be left alone.

I’m careful to keep to myself around her. I’m sure she’ll be reporting to the duke, telling him of any shortcomings I have. It’s clear to me that I’m not wanted by the siblings, purchased by the father for a son who won’t even look my direction.

I wonder why. Not in a vain way – humans are either seen as exotic fetishes or a species that is repulsive and primitive. I suspect Lord Aaoric feels the latter, though I’m sure his disdain runs deeper. There’s something I’m missing, something that would be easier to glean if I had a working translator.

Sessaly deposits me at my room after a torturous journey back to the manor.

“No need to dress me for tea,” I tell her, mostly because I want to be alone.

“No tea today,” she says. “You’re to travel with Lady Gennelle to be fitted for clothing.” Her tone is flat, and she avoids my eyes. What would I see there? Pity that I’m to spend time with the strict Lady of the manor? Jealousy that I’ll be fitted in ridiculous clothes that are too tight? Hatred for my species?

“Oh,” I say, not realizing how disappointed I sound until the words are out of my mouth. Sessaly’s gaze flickers to my eyes, and I recovery quickly. “I am grateful for their hospitality. I will be ready when she comes to call.”

Sessaly casts me a final long glance before leaving me blessedly alone to toil with the communication device once more.

Time passes too swiftly in my occupied state. When Lady Gennelle comes to call, I am still in my morning clothes, the sweat dried but still pungent. She wrinkles her nose and demands I bathe before we leave, then proceeds to knock on the door to my room every three minutes until I declare myself ready.

“Did Sessaly not tell you the time of our outing?” Lady Gennelle snaps. Her gaze rakes over me in a quick appraisal before she turns away, fleeing down the hallway. I secure my wet hair off my neck, trying for a simple bun as I hurry after her.

“She did, I apologize for my lack of attention to the time,” I say.

Gennelle continues down the stairs, not slowing even as I lag. Perhaps I could walk the stairs at night after everyone’s asleep to build up my endurance away from the heat.

“Don’t let it happen again,” she shoots over her shoulder.

I wonder if I should make an excuse for my tardiness, but I have the distinct feeling she doesn’t care. She spares me one final glance as we reach the base of the stairs and head toward the yard.

The humidity of Hothin hits me full in the face, the afternoon air thick enough to swim through. Gennelle leads the way to a carriage, ignoring the attendant that offers his hand. I allow him to help me, mostly because my thighs are burning.

Gennelle shoves herself to the furthest part of the carriage, far from me. Not a single piece of hair is out of place, her red skin glowing and dewy. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window, something I’d been avoiding since I got here.

The woman who stares back at me is a shock.