Page 38 of Trained as His Mate

“This is what I have been saying,” High Mother began. “It has been the—”

With narrowed eyes directed at Torian, the Commissar raised his hand. “Silence, good woman!” he snapped. “Your complaints are being heard as we speak, and we shall now proceed to address them as you requested.” To Torian, he glowered.

“Bring the woman to the examination room,” he barked at his guards.

Quaia emerged from behind Torian, looking at him with a smile as she passed, touching his hand as she brushed by him. The Commissar moved aside to let her through, but once she was in the corridor, he stepped in front of Torian. “Captain, I trust you understand that your presence will not be required, nor… allowed, as I investigate the claims of the High Mother.”

“Commissar,” Torian began, but true to Minghek traits, the Commissar became suddenly recalcitrant and brash. “I have been removed from a pleasure cruise to address these matters, Captain. I wish to return immediately. I am sure that all is in order, but as you can imagine, given your history… we must maintain the appearance of absolute impartiality in this case.” He glowered. “I shall not at all be pleased if I am required to be here any longer than absolutely necessary, or if, Sun forbid, the investigation should be found to be flawed and I am called because of the bleatings of this… woman.” He gestured at High Mother again.

Torian’s Voklha had become a mass of frantic energy; his desire to protect his human from anything that might distress her, to resolve whatever she didn’t understand about his love and dedication, fought viciously with his rational thoughts, which were that a speedy end to this investigation would allow him to move forward with his plan more rapidly. Interference with it, while it might satisfy his instincts for now, would only impede him from getting what he desired in the future.

“As you wish, Commissar,” Torian growled. “I shall remain in my quarters.”

The Commissar appeared relieved again. “Then,” he said, patting his brow yet again. “I shall begin. Madame,” he said, turning to High Mother. “I request that you witness the examinations so that you see for yourself that they have been conducted.”

High Mother harrumphed, disgruntled and yet somewhat appeased. She stalked away after the guards and Quaia passed her.

“Commissar,” Torian said, as he began to follow them.

The Commissar turned.

“M—the human,” he began, almost uttering ‘my Voklha,’ “has not eaten yet. She may be hungry.”

The Commissar looked bemused. “This is… likely for the best,” he said. And then he frowned quizzically, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then, seeming to think better of it, turned on his heel and marched away with the group. The lone guard who remained at his side shifted his eyes from the Commissar to Torian, and seemed to pity the captain.

He was, after all, Voklish. He could see what they could not.

CHAPTER 14

Quaia held her head high, and this time with no trouble, as she strode down the corridor and to the examination room. While there could be no doubt that humiliations were in store for her there, she was able to see past them to the possibilities beyond.

Maybe this was how so many women managed, she thought, to partake in these old rituals. They must have believed that something worthy was on the other end of them: a mate, a lover, something. She had never hoped for any of that, but rather her freedom.

Freedom, it turned out, was not enough by itself to motivate her to endure this as if it was nothing. But the hope that Torian’s words had planted in her soul was.

The examination room had already been prepared, but when she laid eyes on the contraption she was to be strapped into, it barely fazed her.

“Am I to remove my clothing?” she asked flippantly once everyone had piled into the room. She noted with disdain that the guards—who were, obviously, unnecessary on an Imperator’s ship—had also filed into the room and lined the sides of the oval shape. No matter. She was doing this for two things now: her freedom, and the hope of love with Captain Torian.

High Mother was here also. A snort from behind her assured her of that. Well, let the crusty old bitch have her final moment of fun. The joke would surely be on her in the end.

The Commissar shuffled past her, approaching a tablet station to bring information up on the screen. “It will be required,” he said. “I do, however, wish to impress upon everyone in attendance that the Imperator’s wishes to advance the Ripening ritual to the realm of science are not being questioned, nor shall they ever be. This is the orderly process of law in response to a… complaint… which… follows… procedures…”

His voice was trailing off because, as he turned around, Quaia was walking, very calmly and completely naked, toward the examination chair, having pulled the dress over her head and folded it neatly while he was speaking.

She presented it, with two hands, to the Commissar after turning around to sit in the chair. “I would very much appreciate, Commissar, if you would safeguard this garment for me. It isn’t mine, and I wish for it to be kept in proper order.”

“It is precisely this sort of blasphemous—”

“Silence!” the Commissar barked at High Mother. He accepted the dress and looked sheepishly around, before handing it to a guard, who also looked confused, but accepted it solemnly and stood back in his position, face steely again.

Quaia plopped in the chair and looked right at High Mother. “So then. Let’s begin.”

“Commissar,” High Mother wailed, gesturing at Quaia. “Surely this insolence, surely this blasphemous insolence—”

“Your complaints, High Mother, are technical. Are they not?”

High Mother spluttered.

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