“The baby will care about living in an organized environment.”
“The baby will care about being fed and not sitting in dirty diapers.”
“Those things are already on the list.”
“Of course they are.”
But even as she organized and planned, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Some shift in their peaceful existence. She told herself it was pregnancy hormones. Anxiety about labor and motherhood and all the unknowns ahead.Perfectly normal feelings that had nothing to do with actual danger. But the feeling persisted.
It was there when she woke in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and found Selik standing at the window, watching the street. It was there when a delivery drone arrived with supplies and Selik checked the manifest three times, as if expecting something dangerous hidden among the groceries. It was there in the way he’d started varying their routine, taking different routes to the market and shopping at different times.
She wanted to ask him about it, to push past his protective instincts and demand he share what he was thinking, but part of her didn’t want to know. She didn’t want him to give voice to fears that might manifest into reality. So she folded clothes and made lists and pretended everything was fine.
That afternoon she went to the market, Anya at her side and Mikoz secured in the carrier on her back. They’d needed to restock supplies, and Selik had been delayed helping Jarrek’s father repair some equipment. He’d been reluctant to let them go alone, but she had insisted. She refused to become a prisoner in her own life, afraid to venture out without protection.
The market sprawled across several blocks, a mix of permanent shops and temporary stalls selling everything from fresh produce to alien tech. The crowd was diverse as ever, everyone mingling and haggling and going about their business. She loved the energy and noise of the market. The reminder that life continued in all its messy, complicated glory.
They stopped at their usual produce stall, where the vendor—a kindly Tillichi female named Marta—always saved the best fruit for them.
“Looking radiant today, dear,” Marta said, packing up their order. “How much longer?”
“Three months, give or take.”
“And feeling well?”
“Tired. Hungry. The baby thinks my bladder is a trampoline. But otherwise good.”
“That’s how it goes.” Marta added extra berries to their bag. “For the little one. Growing children need their vitamins.”
Mikoz chose that moment to grab a strand of her hair and yank, earning a yelp.
“He’s definitely growing,” Anya said, gently extracting the hair from his fist. “Growing into a tiny menace.”
They moved through the market, checking off items from her carefully organized list. Bread from the baker who used organic wheat. Thick steaks from the butcher to surprise Selik. A new blanket for Mikoz from the textile merchant who’d become a friend. She was examining a set of small clothes, trying to determine if they’d be too big for a newborn, when the feeling hit her.
The prickling awareness of being watched.
She turned slowly, scanning the crowd. Nothing obvious. Just the usual mix of shoppers and vendors going about their day. But the feeling persisted. Stronger now.
“Corinne?” Anya had noticed her stillness. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I just?—”
Then she saw him.
A Cire male, standing near the entrance to the market. Tall and broad like Selik, but with lighter green skin. He wasn’t looking at her directly, but something about his posture suggested awareness.
“Anya,” she said quietly. “Don’t turn around, but there’s a Cire male near the entrance.”
Anya tensed but kept her eyes forward. “Council?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe I’m being paranoid.”
“Better paranoid than sorry.” Anya shifted closer. “What do you want to do?”
Her mind raced through the options. They could leave through the back exit. Or try to lose him in the crowd. Or confront him directly and demand to know what he wanted.
Or she could be completely wrong and this was just a random Cire who happened to be shopping at the same market.
