Page 36 of Diamond

I remind myself not to stare too long. My mind and eyes start to wander to the rest of her body as I wonder what the silver patches might look like under her clothes, but I stop myself, recalling how uncomfortable Ree felt when I did it to her.

Instead of just staring, I decide to tell her what I think. "The pattern on your skin is quite unique," I express and her frown deepens.

I point to the hand that is still scratching at her Roshan's fur. I can understand her not noticing such markings as those she had been born with. It would be like me noticing my dark gray skin.

She looks down and squawks, sounding similar to an avoid, and the sound nearly makes me laugh. Her eyes are as wide as sand disks as she stares at her hands, eyes flitting from side to side. The long sleeves of her clothes recede until they are around her elbow and she gasps softly.

I appreciate the thought, but I don't say anything. I'm still being careful, trying not to ruin the mood that seemed to be getting slightly better between us.

She pulls a face that I can't quite discern and her lips move in a wordless chant. I watch her, continuing to appreciate how the silver coloring spreads over her skin in small, strategically placed patches.

Nasrin's chanting gets more audible, but I can't understand the language she is speaking. It is smooth and pretty, with no clicks or whistles like mine, but it sounds worried. Her dark furred brows, such a stark contrast to her white hair, are furrowed and there is no hint of joy on her face.

I must have done something wrong again. Maybe I said something disrespectful to her, which could easily be the case, as I do not have a single idea what her customs are like.

I curse silently and wish I had never mentioned it. Have I insulted her instead of complimenting?

Maybe being unique is not a compliment for her people, so I wrack my brain for some other way to express it to her. "Nasrin," I call out and her head whips around to face me, the worried look still prominent on her face.

I gesture my apologies to her before I speak again. "I am sorry if I disrespected you. I just meant to say that your skin is beautiful."

She still looks horrified when I say it and I feel annoyance creeping up my spine, not at her but at myself. Females have always been confusing to me and it seems I will mess up with them no matter the species. I silently curse my inexperience and lack of tact.

Instead of giving up, I strengthen my resolve to learn. I am not sure how long it will take for Nasrin and I to get to Ree and the others. But in the meantime, I will make sure to learn everything so I don't get an appalled stare from her the next time I try to pay a compliment.

20

Rin

I can't believe those hunters would do something like this—actually, yes, I can. If they can kidnap me from my home and bring me to an entirely different planet, then why wouldn't they be comfortable to continue violating my body in this way?

I almost don't notice the pinching in my throat as I start to quietly freak out. Will this happen every time I want to switch languages? It is getting old fast.

"Ya Allah, what is this? Am I reacting to something or am I dying? I knew something was up with thiskharplanet when it seemed too good to be true."

Who knows what else they did to me? I had just started to accept the new long fall of white hair and the translator in my throat, but this new development is terrifying.

What am I turning into?

Kuret says my name again, and it pulls me out of my panic.

Kuret. I say the name under my breath to distract myself. Even in the most absurd of films that I have seen, the characters will usually share their names before going on life-changing quests or even try to kill each other. However, this is real life and Kuret only let me know his name after he's done patching Roshan up.

It is not as strange a name as I expected it to be, and it is easy to say even in Farsi.

It was kind of funny watching him try to say our names. He messed up few times, but he eventually got it right.

When he calls my name, the end of it sounds like the start of a song, which fascinates me because his language is made of soft clicks, guttural sounds, and whistles that don't sound very musical to my ears when I'm the one saying them.

It makes me want to ask him to call me Rin, but I shake myself out of it. We are barely even acquaintances, definitely not friends, and I've just recently been taught yet another invaluable lesson about trusting people.

I turn to face him, hoping he has some answers. Dread dances in the pit of my stomach, making me feel sick.

What does he mean by beautiful? My arms resemble a shakily done collage, and I am too scared to even think about what the rest of my body looks like.

If modesty wasn't so ingrained in my moral fiber, I would have stripped down right now and inspected every inch of my body todiscover what else has been added to it—perhaps a tail I haven't noticed till now?

I feel like my body is foreign, even to myself. Is this the cost for calling himthe alienwith such venom?

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