Page 31 of Taken to Lemora
He’s a clan chief, my inner Igmora whispers,he’s at the height of his virility. He’ll be wanting to settle down with a good, strong, Lemoran female soon.And if he does that, what will I do in his keep but wallow in self pity?
Raingar grunts, “But you’ve spent quality time with Gorman — perhaps even more than you’ve spent with me — as you’ve fitted his new robes. They look irritatingly spectacular on him. His fins have been bristling nonstop with all the compliments he’s gotten from other Hypha.”
I smile, overwhelmed by the praise. And almost even more overwhelmed by the implication in Raingar’s strained words. But I’m too afraid to ask him if he’s jealous. “I’d be happy to fit you for new robes, too.”
“Insufferable female,” he grunts. “Just finish the pants, first.”
I laughsnort in the same breath and sink down onto my knees at his feet.
“Ah! What are you doing?”
I look up the length of his impressively tall body and force an easy smile, even as heat suffuses my face. “I need to get to your ankles and I can’t do that while standing.”
He gawks at me and rubs his chest with one hand, while his other reaches up to touch his horns.
“After this, I’d like to help you oil your horns. I’ve noticed that they’re molting more rapidly now than when I first arrived and I’m sure they must pain you.”
Raingar jolts, face flashing, eyes rounding, both hands flying to cover the tops of his horns, which are white, like I’ve seen some, but not all, Lemoran horns to be. I don’t know the difference between white or grey horns and haven’t thought to ask. I almost do so now, but Raingar’s too busy blubbering.
“YOU WANT TO TOUCH MY HORNS!” I wince, heat of a different kind sparking across my skin. I glance around behind me and, sure enough, as soon as I poke my head around the throne, I see countless eyes staring in our direction. Most are smiling. The rest are rolling their eyes.
“Raingar, please…” I whisper. “I don’t want them to think we’re doing anything improprietous. Especially when one of those females might be your future mate.”
It isn’t the first time I’ve said something like this, and it isn’t the first time he’s let my comment go completely ignored. It isn’t the first time I’ve been stupid enough to get my feelings hurt as I know they’ll always be hurt.He doesn’t know me. He has no reason to lay claim to me. I’m just a stranger, a charity case, he saved from a couple of monsters.
“Essmira,” he says.
“Yeffa?”
He reaches down and touches the top of my head, stroking his fingers through my curls. He shudders and shakes his head, closes his eyes, and grunts, “Ohr what they think.”
I smile, but my heart isn’t in it, so I get back to work.
We’re in his great hall again, standing beside the most unassuming throne I’ve ever seen. Nothing at all like the massive glass thrones Igmora and Tyto had set up in their overlook room — the room that overlooked all of the cells where their progeny were held.
I know that there were two others in the time that I stayed there, but I never saw, spoke to, or met them. I still love them, feel kindred to them, and hope they’re okay, though.
But here and now in Lemora, Raingar’s throne is just a block of stone covered in a threadbare piece of hide. We’re standing kind of…behind it? It’s an awkward place, at the far end of the hall away from the doors.
There’s a large window high in the ceiling covering half of the wall. There was a stretch of material covering it before but, given how bright and sunny it is this solar, it’s been rolled up. Sunlight beams in, all soft and pink. It bathes his form and turns the tantu fabric in my hands from grey to a more pearlescent silver.
“Ouch!” He says as I stick him with a pin near his right hip.
“Don’t be a baby,” I tease, rising up onto my knees and pulling out the pin. I gently rub the area. He freezes, but I don’t pay that any attention. It certainly isn’t the first time he’s frozen up around me.
“You know, this would be a lot easier if you didn’t insist on wearing these oversized pants underneath while I’m trying to size you correctly. My measurements are going to be totally off.”
“Well, I don’t want everyone in my stinking village to see me naked!”
That makesmefreeze. “You…aren’t wearing anything underneath your trousers?”
“What the ohr would I be wearing under my trousers! What are you wearing underneath your trousers?”
I blush and stand up to my full height. He’s wearing thick sandals and, besides that, towers over me anyway. I glance out from behind the lumpy stone throne and see that the hall is littered with creatures, most still staring, though at least it’s not all of them anymore.
They’ve formed little groups and, in each group, are working on something different. A few clusters of Lemoran are working on filling up the Eshmiri dome lamps while a mixed group of Rekkaru, Lemoran and Hypha seem to be haggling over large sheets of paper.
I clear my throat. “I wear undergarments, as do some of the Hypha and Asgid I’ve been working with. I wasn’t aware that this is something foreign to Lemoran, though…”
