I blink. "Why?"
"To put in my coffee-tea-whatever?" She gestures at the mug. "To sweeten it?"
I make a face, rather horrified at the thought. Why would you sweeten a hot drink? It sounds disgusting. But I dig through the bowls scattered on the table, find a creamy, dairy-based pudding that I find achingly sweet but some seem to enjoy and bring it to the bedside as an offering. She tastes a little of it, makes a happy noise, and then dumps the entire bowl into her night tea and stirs it into a creamy mess.
I try not to gag at the sight.
"Okay, this stuff is amazing," Ruth says, cradling the mug close to her lips as if she's afraid it'll be snatched from her. She peers over the rim at me. "Do you have any other sweets here? Those aren't what I had in mind." She points at one of the airy sporeling tufts, one of my personal favorites. "Are those tofu?"
I don't know what tofu is, but the way she says it makes it sound revolting. "They are a delicacy crafted from mushrooms."
She makes a face. "Cake? You promised us cake once."
This creature has the palate of a child. I pull out a sweet bread that's topped with a fruit compote and bring it to the bed, and she makes a ravenous sound. Ruth doesn't even bother with eating utensils. She just sets down her tea, picks up the entire cake with her hand, and starts eating it by the fistful. It crumbles all over her but she doesn't care, licking fruit off her fingers and making happy sounds as she eats.
I should be revolted. Part of me is, but the other part of me watches her tongue flick over the side of her hand, catching a drip, and then I find myself fascinated…and full of self-loathing for even paying attention to something like that.
Once she finishes the cake, she sighs and picks up her tea again, drinking more of it with a blissful expression on her face. Silently, I take another cake from the table and bring it to her. All this food will go to waste unless we eat it, but I don't think that will be a problem. She tugs the plate toward her and picks up one of the eating sticks at least, then looks at me. "So where are we going if we're not going back to the Star just yet?"
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why should I tell you?"
"You shouldn't." She smirks. "But I figured it couldn't hurt to ask."
As she picks up the tea mug again, I can't help but notice that she's very…casual now. Almost friendly. Is it because she's eating? Or because she's trying the same plan I am—to befriend the enemy to get them to spill their secrets? I suspect it's the latter and decide to drop a few hints. "My uncle, Lord va'Rin, is very familiar with human slavery. He'll know what to do."
"Charming," she says in a flat voice. "We're going to see the head slavemaster. I can't wait."
I open my mouth to correct her and then stop. Let her think what she likes. If it makes her desperate, she'll tell me a bit more about what's going on. "You don't approve?"
She just gives me an angry look. "What's the plan with me, then?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what's your goal?" She gestures with her mug. "You have me chained to your bed. I'm naked. What's the plan here? What are you going to do with me? Can you at least tell me that so I can adjust my mindset?"
"You mean so you can prepare?" I scoff. "The last thing I would do is tell the enemy my plans."
Her eyes narrow. "Are you…going to make me serve you, then? Is that why I have no clothes?"
"I am not interested in a human bedslave." My lip curls with distaste. "And you have no clothes because you were the one that stole into my tub."
"Can I have some clothes, then?"
I consider this. I should dress her, absolutely. If nothing else, so the crew has faith in me once more. Even so, I don't like the thought of just giving this female everything she asks for. I need to keep the upper hand. "Tell me more about the Star and we'll see about getting you some clothes."
She rolls her eyes and tosses back the last of her tea abomination. "What do you want to know?"
Is this another one of her tricks? "I need to know—"
My comm unit chirps.
"Incoming vid-call request from Lady Naasi sa'Rin," the computer calls out cheerfully. "Shall I accept?"
I stare at my chamber in horror. There's food plates everywhere, and I have a naked female chained to my bed. A naked human female.
My mother cannot see this. I grab the female by the wrist and lean over her. "I need you to hide."
"Do what?" She looks at me as if I've gone mad.
"If you hide," I say, undoing the cuff on the bed and taking her by the arm. "I will get you a dozen cakes. I will get you clothes. I just need you to hide. Quickly." I look around my quarters, frantic, and then spot my closet.
Perfect.
I drag her toward it, and to my surprise, she doesn't fight me. I open the door and gesture she should get in, even as the computer happily intones again that my mother's call is waiting. The human female gives me a skeptical look, but when I pull the door shut, she doesn't fight me. She's utterly quiet, and I'm thankful.
I smell a trap, but I'm thankful.
I rush to the far side of my room, toward the vid-comm station and rake my hand through my hair. Kef, it's a ragged mess. I pull my hood over my hair and horns, adjusting it…and my sleeve falls off just as the call is accepted.
19
RUTH
The moment he lodges me into the closet and shuts the door, I start looking for a way out. I run my hands over the walls and floor, looking for a grate of some kind, a give in the paneling, something. There's nothing, of course, so I start checking the pockets of all his robes, just in case he's left something in one. As I do, some of them fall apart to my touch. Maybe I was a little too heavy on the knife earlier. Oh well.
"Lady Naasi sa'Rin would like to connect," the computer says again after a time. "Shall I say you are unavailable?"
He hasn't answered the phone yet? What's he waiting for? An engraved invitation? I thought when he shoved me in here it was because it was urgent and he had to answer right away.
My curiosity getting the better of me, I open the sliding closet door a fraction and peer out. Straik is still in the room all right. But he's not answering the call. He's just pacing back and forth, raking a hand through his raggedy mess of hair over and over again. One of his sleeves has fallen down, which gives me a particularly vicious sense of satisfaction. I watch as he heads for the comm monitor, braces his hands against the table as if preparing to accept the call, his head hung. Then, he abruptly paces away again, raking his hand through his hair once more and narrowly avoiding his horns.
He turns away from the screen, takes a deep breath, and then pulls his hood over his hair. Or tries to—the hood comes off in his hands. I stifle a laugh behind mine.
With an irritated snarl, he flings the hood away, casts a dark look toward the closet, and then braces his hands against the comm table again. "Keffing answer already. Let's get this over with."
The screen shimmers and a beautiful blue woman appears on the screen. Her features are similar to Straik's, but delicate where his are strong. Her brow plating is encrusted with delicate jewels, and her eyes are highlighted by so much eye makeup that I can see it from my vantage spot in the closet. Her horns are highly decorated too, with little strands of silvery rope artfully dangling from them. Her dark hair is sleeked back and decorated with more of that silvery rope, and she looks intimidatingly beautiful.