Diarvet chuckled softly, the sound like warm honey as he placed a gentle hand on the small of my back, the contact sending little sparks of electricity racing along my spine. “They understand the sentiment, even if the words don’t translate.”
“I hope so,” I told him, giving our alien benefactors my most sincere smile and another small bow.
“Come on, Princess, let’s go pick some flowers,” Diarvet announced, effortlessly swinging Lilibet back up onto his shoulders.
She squealed with such pure, radiant happiness that I found myself wishing that things could stay like this forever—for Lilibet’s sake. I knew it couldn’t last—nothing this perfect everdid—but maybe I could allow myself to pretend, just for a little while.
Chapter 8
Diarvet
Daily life at the treehouse was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Stripped of modern technology, yet rich with small delights and unpretentious pleasures, the place echoed with a profundity that pierced my soul, a sensation completely new to me. Though my nightmares had diminished considerably since we arrived, each time I jolted awake in the darkness, I found myself soothed by the gentle, rhythmic breathing of Jolie and Lilibet drifting from the nearby room, comforting the horrors of my past.
The slow arch of sunlight across the sky marked our days, not duty or a ticking clock. Disconnected from technology’s constant drone, I found a rare connection—the pulse of the living world, the ancient rhythms modern civilization had all but silenced. No wonder Vraxxan and Lucy visited here every chance they got.
Having Jolie and Lilibet at my side transformed the sanctuary into something even more precious. Our life here was beautifully simple yet deeply rewarding. Each day, I ventured into the forest to hunt for fresh meat, while Jolie and Lilibet tended the small but flourishing garden that Vysar had cultivated during his exile here. With the Peecha’s help, they foraged, learning which fruits and vegetables were safe and plentiful. Tark and Ceeka visited daily, as did Ceeka’s niece Numa, who seemed utterly enchanted with Lilibet. The youngPeecha had become the youngling’s constant companion, and the air around the treehouse hummed with sounds of their boundless play.
Currently, they were engaged in something calledslapping sticks. A game that consisted primarily of racing around the clearing, wielding sturdy branches like weapons and delivering resounding whacks to anything that dared to cause them the slightest offense.
“She’s happy,” Jolie murmured as she watched Lilibet deliver an enthusiastic whap to a small, deep blue plant clearly guilty of some heinous offense. She stood close by, sleeves rolled and hands deft as she helped me butcher themaramountI’d brought back this morning. The creature was a prime specimen, its meat tender and rich, plenty for days to come. The pelt, luxuriously soft, would, after curing, become a warm garment for Lilibet as the seasons changed. Jolie commented the maramount resembled something from Earth called adeer,describing a creature—in my opinion—too graceful and gentle-eyed to be used for food. Although providing for them filled me with deep pride, I didn’t think I would be able to hunt a deer, especially this Bambi she described.
“You seem happy as well,” I ventured, studying her profile. On the surface, Jolie appeared content, always quick with a smile and ready laughter, but I had learned to read her subtle tells. Her eyes still held traces of a haunted, worried expression that would surface unexpectedly, like shadows passing across sunlight.
“I like it here,” she said, her voice trailing off thoughtfully as she pulled a handful of slippery offal from the maramount’s cavity, her brow furrowing in concentration as she worked.
“You are certainly not squeamish,” I observed, watching her fling the offal into a wooden bucket without the slightest hesitation or grimace.
“I guess not,” she laughed, the sound flowing over my skin like warm syrup. “I was a nurse after all.”
“You were a healer?” I ventured based on my translator’s interpretation of the unfamiliar term.
“Kind of,” she paused, wiping her blood-stained hands clean on the broad, rough leaf of a nearby vikat tree. “A nurse is like a healer’s assistant who helps take care of the sick or injured.” A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “You know, honestly, that was the absolute worst part of being trapped in Qurbaga’s harem. If one of the other girls got sick or injured, I didn’t have the proper tools or medicines to care for them the way they deserved.”
“I can only imagine the horrors you endured at his hands.” I swallowed hard, the words tasting like bile in my mouth. While I had certainly imagined Jolie beneath me, writhing in pleasure, she was always willing, eager—never something endured or forced upon her.
The quick glance she shot me sparkled with unexpected impishness, catching me completely off guard. “Truthfully, the sex stuff wasn’t that bad.” She chuckled, a sound both bitter and amused. “Qurbaga is notoriously impotent, and on the rare occasions when he could actually get it up... well....” She held up her little finger with an audaciously wicked grin, which caused me to bark out a laugh loud and sharp enough to startle several colorful fowl from their perch in a nearby tree. “The worst part was his sliminess,” she added with a full-body shudder, then her expression darkened considerably, “and constantly worrying about what he might do to Lilibet.”
“How long were you with Qurbaga?” I asked gently.
“Nearly four years,” Jolie sighed heavily. “He was my only owner, thankfully.”
As horrific as her experience had been, I knew it could have been infinitely worse. Since working with the Alliancerescue mission, I’d encountered humans passed from owner to owner, so thoroughly traumatized and broken that when finally freed, I seriously doubted they would ever fully recover.
“How were you abducted?” I asked carefully, hoping the question wouldn’t upset her too much. Queen Lucy had shared little about the details of her own abduction with me, although I suspected Vraxxan knew the story.
Jolie’s expression shifted, becoming distant and wistful as she retreated into memory. “I was an oncology nurse at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis. I loved my job. It was incredibly challenging work, emotionally draining at times, but also deeply rewarding.”
She paused in her storytelling, her fingers absently tracing intricate, meaningless patterns on the rough wooden surface of our makeshift table. “There was this one patient. A girl who had spent most of her life in the hospital, and well....” Liquid emotion shimmered in Jolie’s eyes. “We all knew she had little time left. I went to sit with her during what we suspected might be her last hours—no one should ever have to die alone—but when I reached her room, she wasn’t in her bed. One of the other patients told me she’d made her way up to the hospital roof, that she wanted to see the stars one last time before....” Jolie’s voice caught slightly. “I went after her, not to bring her back inside, but simply to be with her, to offer whatever comfort I could. When I reached the roof, I saw these strange, hairless, cat-like aliens standing in a circle around her. I remember screaming, and the next thing I knew, Qurbaga was purchasing me at some kind of auction.” Jolie managed a faint, sad smile and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“What happened to the girl?” I asked softly, my heart aching for her.
“I think she had already passed away by the time I reached the roof,” Jolie said, sadness weighing on every word.
“I’m so sorry, Jolie,” I said, letting my gaze hold hers. I was so completely absorbed in her heartbreaking story, so utterly focused on her sad but beautiful face, that the blade I used to butcher the maramountslipped in my grip. The razor-sharp tip sliced a clean, stinging line across my palm, and I hissed sharply at the pain. Jolie’s hands were instantly on mine.
“Let me see,” she said, her voice shifting from wistful to strong and focused. She took my injured hand in both of hers, examining the bleeding cut with a clinical gaze. “It’s not too deep, but we should definitely clean and bind it properly. We’ll need to go to the treehouse, my medical supplies are there.”
I nodded, having little choice in the matter. Her expression held a mixture of concern and determination that brooked no argument. I called to Numa in her native language, using low chittering tones, and told her we were going inside for a few moments, asking her to stay near the treehouse and watch Lilibet. Numa chittered an agreement along with an enthusiastic wave of her furred hand, her tail swishing with understanding.
