Page 109 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

The closet.

“There’s clothes in there,” she tells me. “Normal stuff.”

Normal stuff – as in, no more pleasure dresses.

I root through the clothes there. They’re mismatched and assorted, because the Toads have no understanding of fashion, or style.

Nevertheless, I still find a pair of flowing pants and a loose shirt. I fail to find underwear, though. You’d think that would be the one thing Toads did know about – since their species waddle around in loincloths most of the time.

When I’m dressed, I turn back to Tessa.

“You’re going to sit tight, okay?” I tell her. “The Aurelians are going to do what Oblog tells them to. They’re going to make the shipment, and when they come back, he’s agreed to let you go free.”

Tessa pulls herself up in bed. There’s suddenly a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

It’s like sunlight after a dark and rainy evening. Tessa is naturally slim, but she’s only gotten thinner during these last few days; too scared and anxious to think of eating.

In her current state, she looks waif-like. Those eyes of hers are as wide and questioning as those of a child. I can’t help but feel responsible for her – I know the old me would.

Tessa stammers: “D-Do you really think they’ll let me free?”

She’s only a couple of years younger than me, but at this moment, the gap might as well be decades.

“I do,” I reassure her. “I believe it.” I walk to the replicator and press a button. A bowl appears, upward from the bottom slot. From a nozzle at the top, grey gruel pours into it.

After the delicious meat the Aurelians had served us, my stomach rolls at the sight – but I take it to Tessa nevertheless.

“Here. You need to eat.”

Tessa pushes the bowl aside.

“I can’t… I’ll just throw it up.”

“Eat it,” I repeat, more firmly this time, and she reluctantly takes the bowl in her hands – which shake so badly that the foul-tasting gruel drips over the edge.

Girding her stomach, Tessa tilts the bowl and takes a sip. Not much, but it’s a start.

The moment food touches her stomach, I see Tessa strengthen her resolve. That’s when she stops acting like a frightened animal long enough to think of others – ofme.

“What about you, Jamie? You’ve got to get out of here, too!”

“I’m going to be okay,” I reassure her, and I try to smile.

But I’m not going to be okay.

I’m not going to be okay, and there’s nothing Tessa can do about it. Unless I can find a way off this ship, I’m never going to be okay again.

Time stretches out in front of me.

Time. The great, endless equalizer. The one thing that delivers both peasants and princes to the same final destination.

If what the rumors say about the Bond are true, then death’s hand has weakened.

The first of this era’s Bonded females – Queen Jasmine, of the Aurelian Empire – still looks as if she’s in her mid-twenties – when, in fact, she’s been ruling for centuries.

The Bond enhances the human lifespan to match those of her Fated Mates – which means my former ambition to grow old on X12, sowing crops, seems like a distantly-remembered dream.

In the chaos of the Bullfrog attack, and after being dragged in front of the Toad Lord Oblog, I hadn’t even had time to think about it.

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