Page 23 of Warrior's Captive
The door slid shut behind him. “I don’t use it much. My mother always insisted we learn something of the gentler pursuits but . . .” he shrugged.
Vivian turned her attention to the house. Walking up from the outside it had looked like a stack of haphazardly placed white boxes, with cut outs for sheets of glass. He’d filled the windows with plants, and two of the levels boasted balconies.
Inside, light poured from the ceiling. More white walls, blonde wood floors.
“Would you like to see your room first, or the kitchen?”
“The bathroom, please, actually.”
He grinned. “Sure. You have an ensuite, but I’ll show you where all the bathrooms are just in case.”
“That’s probably for the best.”
Vivian all but pushed him out of the way to enter the first guest bathroom.
When she emerged, Tai’ri wasn’t waiting. She paused, but an inset light flashed yellow on the wall and Tai’ri’s voice sounded.
“I’m in the kitchen, Viv. House, show Vivian to the kitchen.”
She followed the yellow flashing light to the kitchen/living room combo. More light, soft colors, clean lines. Tai’ri stood at a center island, chopping. He indicated a couch with his chin.
“Sit, put your feet up. Do you want a fruit smoothie or juice? My sister Daobah ordered groceries, Bey had you a nutrition plan drawn up. Kitchen’s fully stocked.”
Vivian glanced at the couch he’d indicated and found absolutely no reason to protest that directive. She lowered herself onto the soft cushions with a sigh.
“The house program is familiarizing itself with your voiceprint,” he said. “Try it out. Ask the couch to recline.”
“Couch, recline fifty percent, please.” The couch obeyed, smoothly lowering her back while lifting her legs. Vivian moaned. “They don’t have these at the shelter.”
“They don’t have me either,” he said, voice deep.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, but his expression was neutral. “Do you normally cook for yourself?”
“Yeah. I’ve used meal services, but it relaxes me.”
“Your job is stressful,” she murmured, then mentally kicked herself. “That sounded silly.”
“Nothing you could say would sound silly. And yes, it’s stressful, but . . . ” he shrugged. “Ibukay is third in the royal line after her parents, and she’ll never rule, but the Province is better for having her. I’m proud to serve.”
Her eyes drifted closed. “Smoothie.”
When she awoke, it couldn’t have been from a long doze. Tai’ri was standing over her, a glass of thick pink liquid in his hand, expression inscrutable. The tattoos on her arms shifted, awakening as if sensing her emotions, then settled back into their static doze.
“Oh, sorry,” Vivian said, realizing she was staring at him, and asked the couch to incline.
He set the glass down on a side table. She was comfortable, the couch nestling the small of her back, the light from the fading afternoon sun streaming through the windows from the balcony doors. The quiet, open and soothing decor lulled her into a sense of safety.
“Sleep,” he said softly.
Vivian picked up the glass and took a long swallow, then closed her eyes, imagining the weighted warmth of her favorite blanket covering her. As she drifted off, she realized that in her mind, the formerly red blanket was now the same color as Tai’ri’s eyes.
* * *
“I told you your dissatisfaction would lead you to trouble,” her mother said. Nadine Huang tabbed through the latest file of prospects sent by the matchmaker, and refused to look at Vivian. “Who will marry you now?”
“I feel empty,” Vivian said.
Her mother flicked her extended stomach a glance. “Not so empty now, are you, girl?”
