“We had planned to escape without any violence, but when the king discovered what we were doing, he attacked us. Killing him was the only way to survive. We ran out of time to get on the same ship. Juniper said she was going to find an escape pod, and she’d never tell anyone about what happened.”
Unbelievable. I demanded she tell me the truth about a crime she never even committed, but covered up so that the real killers, who were long-time survivors of the king’s abuse, could safely escape him and persecution.
“Oh! We sent you a mating gift,” Nacarya says, gleefully. “It’s a bunch of credits. Apologies that we couldn’t wrap it.”
“Yes, and that it took so long to get it to you. Our new mate had to help us send them over a secure wire.”
“Wait, you sent us credits?” I ask. “We haven’t received anything.”
Rivarry waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, you will. Tomorrow or the following day.”
My mind is spinning with the onslaught of information. “How did you know where to send them? Or that we were mated?”
They look at each other and laugh.
“We’ve been following Juniper’s every move since we were separated,” Nacarya says, as if it should be obvious.
Rivarry nods in agreement. “Our new mate is a very skilled hacker.”
“We wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“Yes, she took such great care of us and our children. We wanted to give something back.”
They encourage me to go after her and make her understand how much she means to me. Then they beg me to say hi for them, and to set up a transmission sometime in the future so the three of them can connect.
I promise I will, and when the picture fades out, I decide to stop feeling sorry for myself. “Akkal, let’s go find your tetra.”
He cheers with his arms up in the air and leaps head-first into my gut.
Chapter 18
JUNE
Idon’t even know why I came. It’s the town cookout, and I’m sulking in a folding chair on the corner of the makeshift dance floor, pretending to sip some kind of alcoholic juice from a cup that’s been empty for about an hour.
Greshenia and I chatted for a bit before she snuck off to play sattuvyee at the recreation center. I exchanged a polite nod with the chancellor, but that’s it. That’s all the people I know. All the people I wish to talk to, anyway. I have no interest in attempting small talk again with the local mean girls. I’d rather take a cheese grater to my vulva.
The sun starts to dip low in the sky, casting the park in a rich blend of oranges and pinks, and I visually chart my exit before I get to my feet. As I weave through the crowd, a flash of purple catches my eye, and I spot Ziv off to the left. He’s surrounded by people, with Akkal tucked to his side, holding his hand. My sweet boy’s long wavy hair is styled and pushed off his face. He’s wearing a fitted black jacket and a holey white T-shirt underneath. But those closest to Ziv are, of course, Mean Girls One through Three. Mean Girl Number One has her hand on hisforearm, tracing the triangles down to his wrist with one slender finger that ends in a sharp manicured nail.
I duck behind a tall female with wide shoulders and frizzy white hair as I eavesdrop.
“You should come dance with me,” Mean Girl Number One purrs as she presses her cheek to his.
I want to laugh. As if Ziv would ever dance in public.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” she says, moving her hand to his chest. “We could have so much fun together.”
Damn, this bitch is shameless. Practically humping his leg right in front of his son? That’s certainly a choice.
Ziv wraps his fingers around her wrist and removes her hand from his chest, dropping it as if her skin is covered in fire ants. “Do you mind?” he asks, features twisting in disgust as he looks at her. “I have no interest in dancing with you, and I certainly don’t want you touching me.”
She makes a choked sound. Baffled. Embarrassed.
Her shame fills me with so much joy I feel like I could do a backflip right now.
Ziv steps back, putting some distance between him and Mean Girl Number One. “What is your name again? Jamishorie? Something like that?”
Oh god. Please let that hideous jumble of letters be her name. It sounds like someone trying to speak with a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
