Page 11 of Summer

“I’m sure I’ll grow accustomed to it,” I say, wiping the sweat beading on my forehead.

“Is it typical for humans to have such poor fitness?” Her head tilts as though it’s a genuine question, and not another reason to tear me down.

If I wasn’t planning to run away, I’d train just to spite her. “Protegre is not very large, my lady. They do not encourage movement there.”

She gives me another slow once over before turning back to the house to parade me through another hall of doors and offices and bedrooms. The faces on the portraits blend, the resemblances diluted as the generations span. At the end of the final hallway is the portrait of the current family, likely painted just a few short years ago.

Even then, Gennelle’s facial expression was severe. It lacks the carefree appearances of youth. Her mouth is set in a thin line, her back ramrod straight. Aaoric stands near her, lanky and lean. He’s not bad to look at, and I wonder why they needed to buy a human for a bride for him. Was he rotten? Evil? What was so off-putting that they resorted to going behind his back to purchase me?

A mystery I’ll probably never untangle.

“They’ll paint another once you have a few children,” Gennelle says. “You do know that you’ll be required to produce heirs for my brother?”

“Yes, my lady. Protegre prepared us for all aspects of being a wife,” I tell her. Including a ridiculously detailed sex education unit where we learned the mating and breeding habits of all the alien species. The day that sits burned in my brain is the day in which we learned which species would require a c-section for us to birth them. Interspecies mating was all the rage, especially because humans had such a malleable reproductive system.

“Hmm,” Gennelle says, turning to head down the stairs once more to the third floor. Halfway down the hallway, we stop at a door leading to a bedroom. Inside are my meager belongings, whatever I earned at Protegre that might make me a more worthy bride. “This will be your room,” Gennelle says. She runs her hand over the top of the nearest cabinet, examining her fingers for dust. “Tomorrow, we’ll have you fitted for more appropriate attire. We can’t have you looking like…well, that.”

I resist the urge to ask her what that is. I haven’t looked in a mirror in three years, but I’ve caught my reflection enough to know that I’m a shell of what I once was. My face is no longer plump, but long and harrowed. I don’t need a mirror to feel the rough texture of my skin, to feel the veins under my eyes.

“I’ll leave you to prepare for dinner. You have your own bathing suite through that door. The servants will bring you anything you need; just ring the bell. You’re expected downstairs in two hours.”

As the door clicks shut behind her, I’m hit with a sudden realization – I haven’t been alone for three years. Tears brim along the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill down my face. I stand still, listening to the silence around me. No sound of breathing, no shuffle of feet, nothing. I am gloriously alone.

But I must investigate.

The bathing suite is spacious but simple. A claw foot tub, a standing shower, an assortment of soaps and rinses. I avoid the mirror; I’m not ready to pick apart my appearance. I was “cleaned up” before they sent me to auction, but I don’t know what that entails.

There are no windows in the bathing suite. There’s one in the bedroom – high up, and too small for me to fit through. My attempt at escape will not be from the bedroom then.

I pick at the translation device until it loosens from my skin and turn it over in my hand. I recognize the brand, it’s a newer model than the ones I dealt with prior to my capture. With a working communication device, I could easily expand the language database. I may understand a few words in Tatinnish, but to get free, I need to be fluent.

I pop the device back onto the skin behind my ear and regard my room. Might as well start unpacking.

6

GENELLE

The human woman has to be summoned to join us for dinner.

“Does she not know how to tell time?” Father hisses at his plate. I don’t blame her – the house is colossal, and I might have forgotten to tell her the exact time of dinner, just that it was in two hours. Surely they teach these things at that school she attended? Father has her papers somewhere, filled will all her boring backstory. Probably report cards detailing how they taught her to fold laundry or some such nonsense.

Her lateness is a mark against her and could mean freedom for my brother. I sigh when the attendant appears with her, because it will take more than being tardy for her dismissal. Even if she’s dismissed, Father will purchase another human woman. It’s some sort of contract they have, a deal that if one doesn’t work out, they can simply get another.

Like an animal. Or a ship.

“About time,” Father grumbles in Tatinnish. He swivels his gaze to her, his lips a thin line as she drops into a curtsy before taking her seat between Aaoric and I. Aaoric pointedly ignores her. She maintains her serene smile, her face void of intellect.

It’s a pretty face, that’s probably why they obtained her. I wonder if she was born there or at what age they took her on. I’d heard stories of human parents selling their young girls to be raised at Protegre to pay off debts or simply to hope for a better life. Last I’d seen, Earth was a shell of a planet.

Probably should have been left to its own devices, though saying that aloud is treasonous.

The first course comes, and Summer is careful with her manners. She waits for Father to take the first bite, she holds the silverware appropriately, she chews quietly and takes small bites.

She catches me watching and tilts her head, and I swear the corners of her mouth twitch as if she means to smile. But the placid look continues, and she’s back to eating her food in the pregnant silence of the dining room.

Next to her, Aaoric stares at his food, his fists clenched around the silverware. I half expect them to bend under the force of his grip.

“Something to say, boy?” Father taunts, breaking the silence. Summer slows her chewing, her head tilted slightly as if listening. Father assured us the device only translated to Hothin – but what if she spoke Tatinnish?