Everyone else she’d ever cared about had left her, or let her walk away without stopping her. Jotaha was the first person who told her he would never let her go. Healthy or not, that kind of possessiveness made her feel wanted.
The outfit the servants had brought her was a shift-like dress, and it skimmed her full hips and clung tightly to her breasts, but she could tell that it had been made with her build in mind, rather than the delicate female yan-kanat.
Either there were other females with bodies similar to hers, or this dress had been made for her. Jotaha had said she’d been sick for five cycles, which the bugs in her head translated to the Theian equivalent of days. That would have been enough time for Jotaha to have clothes made up for her. Further proof was the fact that the dress didn’t have a slit in the back for a tail.
At least he’d thought of her need for clothes, and probably for this bath. After dressing, she used the narrow brush to scrub at her teeth, wishing she had some toothpaste. Combing her hair was a great deal more difficult, and she had to begin the process with the wide teeth of the decorative comb. Eventually, she tried adding some of the scented wax to the comb out of sheer desperation, which allowed it to pass more smoothly through her hair.
Combing out her hair took what seemed like hours, though her hair was still wet when she finished. She ended up with a ball of shed hair the size of a guinea pig, and couldn’t find a trash can anywhere in the bathroom jungle to dump it.
Although she suspected she was half bald after the ordeal, she still felt a million times better than she had before her bath. After a stop at the toilet bench, a wipe with some scented petals, and a flush with the hand crank, she could add another million to that score.
Now, she was hungry as a bear, so she practically cheered when she saw the food set up on a small wooden table with carved dragon legs that had been set next to her bed, which also had carved dragons all over the headboard. They really stuck with a motif once they picked it.
To her relief, there was only one blood bar among the small feast of food that filled the entire table top. She shoved it to the very edge of the table as she considered her other options. She was starving but she didn’t think she’d ever eat those things again. Something had given her parasites, and it might have been the water, but it could also have been some of the food she’d eaten in the cave. She wasn’t taking any chances.
The variety of different dishes was extensive. Some smelled sweet, some savory, and she even spotted the bun that she knew was both, sitting among the offerings. There was only a small sampling of each type of food, and most of them were beautifully presented, like she might get at some gourmet restaurant. There were little colorful squares, garnished with herbs, stripes of fragrant sauces, and even the odd flower or two. There were also hockey puck-sized circles, and small spheres, some of which burst open to spill out fragrant contents when she touched them with the flattened end of a stick that she suspected was an eating utensil, even though it looked more like a small spatula.
Some foods tasted amazing, others had an organ-y flavor, like liver and onions. Still others were a toss-up, with the textures being off-putting but the taste being quite good. Her hunger drove her to try everything but the food she’d eaten in the caves, and she found many delights that she truly enjoyed. She completed her meal by clearing most of the stone or wood or glazed clay plates and shallow bowls. She also drank all the different beverages provided, including the familiar tea in the delicate two-handled mug with dragons beautifully painted and outlined in gold on the dark blue background of it.
There were five different drinks, including water that tasted as clean as any bottled variety, as well as something fermented and probably made of grain. The others were apparently juices, including one that had a nutty flavor and milky consistency.
If the variety of foods was intended to determine her likes and dislikes, the yan-kanat would definitely be confused by the fact that she ate and drank almost everything. Or perhaps they would be happy their foods appealed to the parasite-boogie man-human-monster. Maybe they were afraid she’d start killing and eating them like a horror movie alien if they didn’t keep her belly full.
The idea of herself being the scary one, when everyone around her had sharp teeth and claws and scales, made her chuckle. Even that small bit of amusement gave her a mood boost, probably helped along by the full stomach and slight buzz she was experiencing. It was also possible her brain bugs were pumping more happy hormones through her blood.
She would take it. Eventually, she would have to face the music, and make a decision about Jotaha, and how she wanted to proceed. Huge, life-altering choices shouldn’t be made when you were feeling overly optimistic and a little drunk.
28
Jotaha had subdued Kevos, and the arena battle should have been the end of Kevos’ open protest and hostility towards Sarah. Major disputes had always been firmly settled in the arena in the past, allowing the yan-kanat to free themselves of the negative and violent energy that arose during such cases. This kept fights from spilling into civilian areas, where the innocent could be hurt. It also decreased the chance that anger and hatred would fester until it burst out of a person and resulted in crimes of passion.
Such crimes as murder were very rare in Draku Rin, and were usually the result of foolish males pursuing drahis that had already been claimed. Even then, they were typically exiled or sent on a pilgrimage to beg Seta Zul’s forgiveness before the situation got that out of hand.
Kevos was no coward, and had faced him fairly in the arena. The problem was that the sentil still didn’t see Sarah as one of them. He didn’t even see his plan to kill Sarah as an attempted murder, viewing it more like an extermination, or the hunt of a deadly animal. In Kevos’ eyes, Sarah was a monster, like all nixirs. The fact that his confinement had been so short and the elders had given no additional punishments for his threat told Jotaha that Kevos wasn’t the only one who thought this way, and some of the others who did held sway with the elders.
Kevos wouldn’t even be sent on a pilgrimage to one of the shrines, perhaps even to Seta Zul’s shrine to pay for his disrespect of her will. Instead, he would be allowed to remain in Draku Rin, free to roam among its people.
Perhaps free to try to harm Sarah again. Or worse, to spread his poison through words to the other citizens.
Jotaha sat beneath the peaked pavilion of his favorite drinking den, suspended among the lattices on the left wing. The fabric of the pavilion snapped in a sharp breeze rolling in from the ocean, where waves crashed against the rocky base of Draku Rin’s perch. His gaze fixed upon the temple atop Draku Rin’s skull, and his feet wanted to carry him back there, but the turmoil in his mind kept him rooted to his bench.
He had no idea what to say to Sarah, now that she could understand his words. They literally came from two different worlds, and her people had spent their entire existence trying to wipe out the yan-kanat and erase all memory of the Ajda from Gaia. Where did one even begin to talk, much less form a lasting bond, when that kind of history existed between them?
Sarah made him feel desire that was more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. He wanted her so badly that his salavik ached whenever he saw her, pushing against the seal until it was scorched by the heat of Seta Zul’s blood. His drahi’s scent was now so engrained in his memory that he no longer had to flick his tongue to fill his senses with it. He could probably track her all across Theia by her teasing scent alone.