Page 20 of Claimed By the Krijese

“Yes, Gogo.” He stands before me, but won’t meet my eyes. “Have you eaten your fill, Iris?”

I carefully place my empty plate on top of the two he has stacked together. “I have, thank you.”

Sorin nods and slowly heads for the fire where everyone places their empty dishes when they’re done for the people assigned to wash them to gather up. I keep watch.

“Please excuse my kit.”

I turn my head to face Kala, his gaze locked on Sorin. Although his face is far different than the Tavikhi’s and a human’s, I cansomehow still read it. Or at least I think I can. Written on it is regret—I assume for snapping and hurting his son’s feelings—but also embarrassment.

“Can I ask where Sorin’s mother is?”

Kala’s attention shifts to me. “Dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He inclines his head but doesn’t say anything.

“How long has she been gone, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It has been about five sun cycles.”

My forehead wrinkles. “Sorry, I don’t know how long that is.”

“He is currently almost ten sun cycles in age and she has been gone since he saw five sun cycles.”

Ah, that makes sense now. “On Earth we would call sun cycles years, I think.” So, Sorin is ten years old and his mom has been gone since he was five.

Which also means the older Krijese has been without his wife for five years as well. That must be hard, especially if there are no women left. “I’m sorry for the loss you both experienced.”

“She was not my true mate.”

I study him for a minute. My gut tells me he didn’t mean to say that. “I’m sure you still cared for her. She was, after all, Sorin’s mother.”

“Perhaps she died because I did not care for her enough and that was my punishment.”

After growing up surrounded by nuns who shoved their religion down my throat, I’ve given up believing in any higher power. I know, though, that my views are my own and are skewed towards cynical so I try not to bash anyone else’s beliefs.

In this case it feels like I need to make an exception.

“No offense, but any god that punishes someone by killing a person they care about even in the slightest isn’t a god worthy of my devotion. Where I come from, we’re taught God is supposed to be merciful and loving. Not petty and vengeful.”

Kala cocks his head in the same way I’ve seen his son do several times today. “Perhaps you are right.”

I shrug a shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe not. Gods of any kind and I don’t really have a relationship so I’m probably not the best person to be handing out religious advice.”

“It is sound advice.”

“I’m sure there are others who would disagree with me.”

Kala mimics my shrug and it’s such an alien gesture for him that I can’t help the fact my mouth curls in a small half-smile. Sorin returns just then still looking glum. I shouldn’t encourage a closeness between us since I don’t want to give him mixed messages, but I pull him in for a hug anyway, because it breaks my heart to see him sad.

“Thank you for being so sweet and for inviting me to have dinner with you.”

He returns my hug and I breathe in the woodsy scent that clings to him. “Will you still let Gogo teach you to throw a war axe so you might go hunting with us?”

I really should say no. “Yes.”

Sorin squeezes me tighter and I extend the hug a little longer, even knowing I shouldn’t encourage his affection.

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