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But Kian set his jaw and turned away so that he wouldn’t have to see his little mate trot off eagerly with the cowboy who was so obviously pleased at having her attention.
“Oh, man, you should see your face,” one of the Grummish girls quipped.
Then she slapped her own thigh as her sister chuckled.
He frowned. Kian didn’t like being made fun of. But something about the gruff women reminded him of his brothers-in-arms.
“We’re just messing with you,” the chuckling one said. “Forgive my sister for making light of a hard situation.”
“Hard,” the other one barked out. “Ha.”
“I’m Avril,” the chuckling sister said, standing and offering her arm. “And that’s my sister, Lyslee. When we’re not laughing like scavenger hounds, we’re talking shop. And we have nothing but respect for you and your brethren.”
“Share a brew with us, dragonman,” Lyslee said enthusiastically, leaping up and offering her arm as well. “We’ll drink to your sorrows and reminisce about old battles to ease your pain.”
Kian grinned in spite of himself, and clasped arms with Avril and then with her sister.
They each had a firm grip. It would have been hard to tell them apart, except for the fact that Lyslee had a neat scar on her cheek. Otherwise, the two were identical.
“You’re twins?” he asked, as they sat again. “Gods preserve your poor mother.”
The two roared with laughter and he smiled, feeling at home.
“Our father used to tell her,Smile, sweets, they could have been triplets,” Avril said.
Lyslee snorted with laughter and Kian chuckled.
“Of course, we’re not identical anymore,” Avril said wistfully. “Lyslee’s been the pretty one ever since she fought a bonded tiger in an Armada stronghold.”
Lyslee pointed proudly to her scar.
“But we’re young yet,” Avril said. “I’ll have plenty more chances to earn a beauty mark or two.”
“You’ll be prettier than me yet, sister,” Lyslee assured her. “And we played enough pranks in our girlhood. We don’t need to be identical anymore.”
Avril handed Kian a mug of brew and they all sat back, watching the deputy organize his cooking tools.
From all Kian could see, they were perfectly normal cooking implements, but the Bergalian handled them with great care, and Hank, the young Terran hand, watched him like there was going to be a test afterward.
Kian took a sip of his brew and was treated to a thick liquid that was so bitter, he almost spit it out.
Muffled laughter told him the sisters had anticipated his reaction.
“Sorry, brother,” Avril told him. “Most folks can’t handle Grummish bitter brew. But you swallowed it down. You’re one of us now.”
“So, you’ve got it bad, huh?” Lyslee asked quietly.
Avril nodded knowingly.
Kian panicked and glanced down at the baby.
“I am only her guard, but it is hard not to enjoy watching her grow,” he told them, admitting the smallest part of the feelings for whelp and mother that were drowning him.
“I don’t mean the baby,” Lyslee said.
“Imeant the baby,” Avril said. “But also the girl. Does she know? About the mate bond?”
He had wondered when they were going to cut to the chase.
