Page 18 of Summer

I open my mouth to say something back – another scathing retort, another dressing down of her foul mouth. How dare she speak to me that way? Instead, I step toward her, bringing us face to face. She’s half a head shorter than me, and I revel in the fact she has to tilt her chin up to look at me, that I am looking down on her.

We are but a breath away, close enough that I can see the veins that track under her eyes. I can count the freckles – two of them – that dust her left cheek.

Close enough to kiss.

The sound of footsteps on the path causes me to step back suddenly. Sessaly ambles up the hill toward us, pausing as she finally sights us. She gives Summer a dismissive, almost disgusted look, before she turns to me.

“The caterers for the ball this weekend have arrived,” she tells me in Tatinnish. Summer watches us carefully, her gaze jumping from one to the other. She’s back to her normal self – smiling, kind, empty headed. “They request your presence,” Sessaly adds.

I don’t say anything to Summer, just maneuver around her and march back to the manor. I don’t care that she’s unchaperoned, she can get eaten by some beast in the grass for all I care.

Father will just buy another human to replace her. Hopefully one more amicable.

9

SUMMER

If I wait any longer to leave, I am going to kill Lady Gennelle.

Getting to know her is impossible. Every time I’m around her, my blood boils, and I forget that I’m trying to escape.

Plan A – befriend her so she won’t suspect you…failed. The female has no friends, or at least she doesn’t let anyone close enough to be called one. Even the three female aliens that visited us this afternoon, ones she’s known for her entire life, stand far outside of her orbit.

Plan B – learn about the manor from her…failed. It started with walks around the estate, trying to get her to talk about what they owned or the distance to the city. Do they have an escape pod? How technologically savvy are they? Even when the ladies mentioned that she practically ran the estate I still could not weasel my way in.

Plan C – manipulate her into getting you things and information…failed, failed, failed. She is too smart for that. She sees through me, every carefully placed breadcrumb she’s swept away. Getting the communication device only worked because her father thought it was his idea. He’s a foul, loathsome creature too.

This leaves me with the striking reality that I must leave now. If I’m around Gennelle much longer, she will absolutely figure out what my end goal is. Snapping at her today – threatening her…that was a mistake.

Even before my capture and tenure at Protegre, I was known for having a level head. A poker face, calm amongst the chaos – it’s why I made such a good thief. If Plan A went awry, I had several backup plans, several escapes. Something about that blasted alien turned everything on its head.

And when she stepped toward me, so close that my eyelashes nearly touched her face, all intelligent thought drained from my brain. It took everything for me not to swoon into her, to fall under her hand, to let her lead.

Thankfully my maidservant stepped in when she did, announcing caterers for a ball. A ball I wouldn’t be in attendance for, because I will be far, far away from here.

Plan D – investigate the grounds by night, find a ship, potentially leave. It’s a slapstick plan, but the longer I stay here, the more aliens I’m introduced to, the more recognizable I will be. I also cannot stomach the thought of spending any more time around Lady Gennelle.

After supper I retire to my room, making a great show of yawning. Supper is an awful event that they insist happens together every evening. The entire family sits around that large table, speaking at each other passive aggressively. Aaoric ignores me, Gennelle stares and seethes, the Duke and Duchess make biting comments that set my teeth on edge.

It’s so unlike my family on Earth.

No, I can’t think of them.

I listen to the sound of the manor as it’s turned in for the night. Sessaly comes to help me out of my dress and into my night shift. She is as sour as ever, and I wonder if she’s one of Lady Gennelle’s spies. Someone must have said something to her to turn her against me, I cannot imagine why I would be so hated when I’ve done nothing wrong.

Maybe she hates humans?

I don’t bother trying to guess, I just let her nearly rip my hair from my head as she brushes it. If it’s how she handles her misplaced anger against me, I’ll allow it; I’ve endured worse. My fingers rub against my wrist, tracing the scarred flesh there. It’s only been two weeks since I was purchased and already the skin has knit itself back together. No more raw, chafed skin, just the raised remnant of the tracker device.

My fingers float to the translator behind my ear. I finally broke the code and downloaded every alien language it could hold. I searched for any sort of GPS device or satellite comm that might mark it as a way for them to find me. I found none but I am still wary.

Sessaly leaves, and I crawl into bed and count the chiming of the grand clock in the hallway. When it chimes one in the morning, I move. I assemble pillows under my sheets to look as though I am asleep. The more time I have before they discover I’m gone, the farther I can be from this planet.

I pack as much as I dare. I’ve pilfered some valuables from the manor, small items I know I can pawn for sizable cash. I made sure to avoid items with any markings to show which household they were taken from. The more nondescript the better. Thankfully, the family has ridiculous taste when it comes to showing off their wealth. The silverware is worth enough to get me on a ship.

I bring the communication device, hoping to swap it for another, or at least trade out the intelligence card. It is trackable, but if I can swap its core with something else it will be useful.

Clothing is sparse. I cannot wait for my chance to trade out these dresses for what I wore in space. So many of these planets love their regency dress, the frills and the petticoats and bonnets. In space – on Earth – I dress in comfort. I long for the feel of breeches and spandex, for my ankles and shoulders to see the light of day. I long for the weight of a laser on my belt, to run without my feet catching in a dress.