She lifted her chin a fraction. “I don’t like being prepared for… anything I don’t understand.”
Raeska inclined her head in acknowledgment.I understand. Humans are unused to our customs. But it is important that you are not in distress. The Vykan would not wish to meet you that way.
“That’s very thoughtful of him,” Morgan said, the dry edge in her voice hard to hide.
Raeska’s expression did not change, though something in her posture softened a fraction, as if she recognized the sarcasm even if she didn’t fully grasp it.
Will you come with me willingly?the translation asked.
The question hovered, sharp and quiet.
She could say no. She could scream, throw things, barricade herself in this room. She could demand to be returned to Earth, demand they undo all of this as if it were a clerical error. Shecould flail against the reality that had already shifted under her feet.
But that would not take her home. It would not undo anything.
It would only exhaust her.
And somewhere beneath the fear and disbelief, another thought moved—a small, traitorous thread that refused to die.What if this is different? What if this is not just another version of my father deciding my life for me?
Here, her father’s influence meant nothing. His surveillance, his wealth, his approval, his anger—all of it had been stripped away. The Marak had not cared who Richard Halden was. The Vykan certainly would not. For the first time in her life, she was beyond the reach of the man who had shaped every choice she’d ever made.
Even if she had been dragged here, some part of her had wanted an escape. She had said it aloud. She could not pretend she hadn’t.
She let her shoulders sink on a slow exhale. “I will come,” she said at last. “Willingly.”
The word felt strange in her mouth, as if she were lying and telling the truth at the same time.
Raeska bowed her head in a small, graceful motion.Then I will assist you to prepare.
Morgan followed her back into the main chamber, the warmth of the garden’s air giving way to the cooler, controlled climate inside. Raeska moved toward a second archway Morgan hadn’t investigated yet, this one framed by darker metal bands. When the alien drew near, subtle lines of light awakened along the arch, and the doorway slid open with a smooth, nearly silent shift.
Beyond lay a bathing room.
Steam curled lazily from a wide, sunken pool carved directly into the stone floor, the water dark and glassy. Soft light emanated from channels high along the walls, casting everything in a muted golden hue. Niches in the stone held vessels and folded cloths in neat arrangement. The space felt both functional and ritual, like a place designed for cleansing both body and mind.
Morgan hesitated at the threshold. “You all really like… ceremony, don’t you?”
Raeska glanced back at her.Traditions are important,the translation answered.They tell us who we are.
Morgan thought of her father’s charity galas, his staged interviews, his choreographed holidays meant to project a specific narrative of the Halden family.Traditions,he called them. He used similar words.They show the world who we are, Morgan. Who we have always been.
She stepped inside. “I suppose they do.”
Raeska approached with a cloth bundle and set it gently on a stone ledge. She gestured to the pool.The water is calibrated to your body’s needs. You will not be harmed. I will assist with your hair, if you allow it. You may wash alone if you prefer.
Morgan’s instinct was to say she would handle everything herself. The thought of being touched, of being tended to like some sort of offering, made something inside her tighten with discomfort.
At the same time, she was exhausted. Despite the soft bed, the food, the careful handling, her bones felt weighted, her nerves raw. The idea of sinking into that water and letting the heat bleed some of the fear from her muscles was suddenly very tempting.
She nodded slowly. “You can help with my hair. I’ll do the rest.”
Raeska seemed satisfied with that compromise.I will turn away while you undress,the translator added.
The alien walked to the far side of the room and faced the wall with the kind of disciplined stillness Morgan was beginning to understand as normal for these beings.
Alone for a moment, Morgan untied the pale grey robe the Majarin had wrapped her in. The silks slid from her shoulders in whispering folds, pooling at her feet. Underneath, the softer inner tunic clung lightly to her skin, a second layer that joined the first on the floor a moment later. Standing bare in the warm air, she felt as vulnerable as she ever had, but something in the steady hum of the room and Raeska’s patient stillness kept the vulnerability from tipping into panic.
She descended the smooth stone steps into the pool.
