Page 11 of Seven Oars
She believed him, but still she felt like crying.
She was a mess and had no idea how to fix it. Her imperfect body was only reliable at failing her.
“What is happening to your eyes?” he asked.
“My eyes?”
“That liquid. Are you sick?”
Rosamma sniffed.“No, I’m fine. It will pass.”
He floated closer, thrusting a finger tipped with a dark blue talon at her face.“Stop it. Now.”
His rich tawny hair was pulled into a no-nonsense twist, but a few strands escaped. Those strands pulled away from his face like angry, silky spikes, pointing at the enemy.
She was the enemy.
Rosamma wiped her eyes and sucked the moisture back into her nose.“Yes, sir.”
Mollified, he backed off.
“Come here. All of you.”
The women clustered before him as best they could.
He probably meant for them to form a line, but it was what it was. Anske turned sideways, still finding her “footing.”
“Have you ever flown across the Universe?”
Most shook their heads.
“I did,” Eze revealed.
“What? You never said a word!” Fawn twisted toward her, further breaking ranks.
“Quiet!” The First One thundered.“Have you had space travel training?”
“Yeah, some,” Gro offered in Universal.“We had basic meetings. Covered food stuff and the cruiser’s layout. Lyle told us what to expect. He was supposed to be our pilot.”
That last bit came out a bit antagonistic, but overall, Gro’s summary was on point, and it outlined as inadequate a preparation as it had been.
Rosamma hadn’t even attended those few meetings. Ren hadn’t wanted her exposed to other people. He’d worried she might overexert herself and get sick. And why would she need to know anything? He planned to travel with her. He was her caretaker. Always and forever.
The First One blew a resigned breath through his triple-slitted nostrils, making them flutter.
Two of his helpers, Silo and Aris, hovered nearby.
”We’ll be in space for the next three hundred and thirty-one Universal space leagues,” the First One announced.
“How long is that?” Alyesha asked.
“Three hundred and thirty-one,” he repeated, nonplussed.
“We would like to know the measure of time, Commander,” Rosamma said quietly, using the form of address she’d heard.
Again, his expression didn’t change, but Rosamma felt a prickle. She knew he was looking at her.
His attention wasn’t flattering.
