Page 151 of Tamed By Her Touch

“You drank one yesterday afternoon while we were working,” Maera reminded her.

“Oh, right.” Clair nodded.

Maera smiled.

“You forget to eat and drink when you are thinking.”

Clair smiled.

“Kaelus complains about that constantly.”

“I imagine he does. A good husband is always concerned about his goddess’s nutrition,” Maera said. “Come—let’s try some of the samples I ordered.”

They began testing the samples from other women and a pattern emerged quickly. Women who had consumed veloria regularly for decades had significantly higher concentrations of the active metabolite in their saliva than younger women or women whose intake had been sporadic.

There were variations, of course—metabolism differed from person to person—but the overall relationship was unmistakable. Even more interesting, women who had consumed nectar within two hours of giving the sample showed a sharp increase compared with samples taken later in the day.

Clair stared at the holographic graph forming in the air.

“So it accumulates over time, but there’s also an acute spike after each dose,” she said thoughtfully.

Maera nodded.

“It would appear so, yes.”

“And I already have measurable levels after just a few servings,” Clair went on. Her

pulse quickened. These findings mattered—she wasn’t completely certain why yet, but they mattered.

They spent the rest of the morning separating samples by age, dosage, intake history, reproductive stage, and dozens of other variables. By the time Maera insisted they stop for lunch, Clair’s stomach was growling loudly enough to embarrass her.

“I suppose Kaelus isn’t the only one who has to remind me to eat,” she admitted.

“No,” Maera said firmly. “And I promised him I would.”

Clair stared at her.

“He told you to make sure I ate?”

Her hostess nodded.

“This morning, before he left.”

He thought of me—he was thinking of me! whispered a little voice in her head and her stupid heart did a little flip before Clair could remind herself again that they were only coworkers playing their parts.

Lunch arrived on a hovering tray carrying what Maera announced with considerable enthusiasm was a traditional midday delicacy called selyth blossoms.

Clair examined them cautiously. They looked like flowers made by an artist who had been experimenting with hallucinogens, but they didn’t smell bad.

Each blossom was roughly the size of her palm and composed of six translucent violet petals wrapped around a glowing orange center. The petals were thin enough that she could see tiny silver veins running through them, and every few seconds they curled inward slightly as though the food was somehow breathing. The orange center appeared creamy and soft, except for several glossy blue seeds embedded in the surface like jewels.

Clair poked one and the petals folded around her fingertip. She yanked her hand back quickly. Was this the Titus Four version of Venus Fly Trap? And did she really have to eat it?

Apparently so, because Maera laughed at her startled expression and showed her how to cut the flower up and eat it.

Apparently the violet petals came from an aquatic plant that grew in the warm shallows of Titus Four’s inland lakes. They were steamed briefly, then wrapped around a filling made from roasted golden root, whipped mirren fruit, ground silver-grain, and a soft blue fungus that tasted vaguely like mushrooms crossed with toasted almonds. The glossy seeds were pickled and popped between the teeth with little bursts of tart, salty liquid.

Maera assured her that the flower petals grabbing her finger were just a reflex and Clair finally took a cautious bite. The texture was strange—silky petals giving way to creamy filling, followed by the sharp pop of the seeds—but the flavor was surprisingly good. Sweet and savory at the same time, with an earthy nuttiness underneath and a faint cooling sensation at the end.