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Pleased with our consideration of her concept, Agnes patted herself on the shoulder. “Which is why I think the boys are murdered if they pursue a girl for her song. If they mate her before a ranked man has his chance to see if they are compatible, the older generations have to wait for more rare female babies to be created. We are already outnumbered by the men five to one.”
“Ladies—” Maeve raised her eyes from her notes. “—this is a lot of conjecture.”
I could not help myself; there might be something to it. “But it's sound, isn’t it?”
“It has potential.” Maeve smirked and put down her stylus. “If sex with a male who does not hear your song could free you from the list, you could have the fog. You’d be ruined in the sense that they might have no other use for you.”
And that would be lovely. What else could the general possibly do with me but assign me to the position of surveyor?
I’d never be a proper mate. I would not bear children.
But, in a voice heavy with warning, Maeve added, “We need to do some more research before we make dangerous assumptions.”
An assumption I would not have considered while moping in my room alone. Looking at my sister, I offered my humblest appreciation. “Thank you.”
Teasing, Maeve threw a cushion at me. “Just make your way into the fog before testing ruins our rank.”
* * *
Three days later,I was back in classes, my confinement ended, routine restored. I didn’t see him, but I knew General Cyderial lurked. That instructors were reporting on me, that my every movement was monitored.
I didn’t have the freedom to explore the libraries for answers about vorec mating habits, hybrid sex, or the song. But my sisters did.
Yet they found nothing.
There were no texts on the subject. No way to ask female instructors that would not be massively problematic.
All my answers had to come from more unusual means: Humans.
I’d been assigned to guard a team of female farmers, and over the course of passing years, I’d grown to like them a great deal. They’d been kind, and in return, not one of them had been majorly harmed under my care.
There was trust between us. Even a few secrets.
Such as my love for sweets and my willingness to risk a beating for a bite of fudge.
My time with them was my favorite part of my routine. Outdoors, where massive filters worked to keep fog out of the farmlands, a place where my boots could touch red soil and the air smelled fresh and sweet. My horizon nothing but tantalizing mist, fog rolling back like a churning wave. Almost as high as the tallest buildings in the city.
A large blanket around my little world, held back by whirring machines.
The smell of it, the sounds it made… I was absolutely in love.
Even the shrill screams and deep booming thumps of the vorec on the other side just waiting for me to ease closer were a pleasure.
However, I didn’t enjoy killing the beasts. I understood why it was done, but I hated it all the same.
As I stood guard in midday sun, edged weapon drawn and ready, I watched an immature female vorec emerge from the fog. Staggering, she hissed, showing all the textbook signs of a beast at their most deadly as she moved with an unsightly gait. Pink scales glittering in the sun afforded a better look at the sickly thing—I understood at once why she dared approach.
Her back leg was twisted.
Badly deformed, it dragged behind her. Even so, the slight thing was moving as fast as she could, fleeing from the savagery of territorial vorec who would not tolerate weakness. Forcing her to risk approaching the human settlement and the point of my blade or be killed by her own kind.
It was a reminder from the universe, a warning that I should never underestimate my sisters again. They were my family, and they did not devolve to their animal instincts when I was weak. They were working with me,the damaged female, to help me. Not abandoning me to my fate.
The human farmers wouldn’t understand that this wounded, petite vorec female could not charge them, so I swallowed my empathy and tightened my grip.
Running toward the limping thing, sword at the ready, I found the look of her comforting. Female vorec were much prettier than their larger male counterparts, their bones smaller, but their talons far more sharp.
Not to be underestimated up close.
