Page 41 of Exiles on Earth
My breath comes short in my chest. Her stunning face beams, animated by the dreams she holds close to her heart.
Dreams this tiny human now shares with me. Each one imprints in my chest, realigning my purpose to hers.
She gives an angry huff, strands of hair fluttering in the exhalation. “The office rental alone would be enough to pay back the renovation, and any extra tenants would provide more on top to put toward the farm shop and restaurant, before I even get to the revenues from the brewery and bed and breakfast.”
“You sound irritated. Have I failed to respond as you expected?” If I’ve fallen short, I must know so I never repeat it.
She sweeps a stray lock behind her shell-like ear, her frustration sharp enough to taste. “I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at the damned bank for refusing the loan.”
“This bank again.” My knuckles crack as I clench my fists. “Tell me where they reside, and I’ll ensure they regret crossing you.”
Her laugh is unexpected, light and fleeting, but I catch its warmth. It pleases me, though she may doubt my strength to defeat any foe for her. Even if it costs me my life, I will win for her.
“It’s not the bank’s fault,” El-len sighs. “Farming isn’t seen as a real career. It’s a fallback, second place—when it takes determination, endurance, and vision to make it thrive in today’s world.”
Yes, those qualities resonate deeply. “Land management is vital. Oloria learned that too late, and it cost us everything.”
“Right,” she murmurs, her gaze distant, lost in thoughts I can’t yet reach.
“Thank you for trusting me with your dreams. I swear, I’ll make them your reality.” The words feel as binding as a mating vow, a promise sealed in the depths of my soul.
She nods slowly, turning to lock her gaze with mine. “Thanks for listening. I… I usually only blather on like this with my girlfriends. You’re… easy to talk to. And do chores with. Since you’ve arrived, well, everything seems a bit more… manageable.”
My hearts thunder. I’ve always believed my mate would choose me for my determination, seeing past my status as a clone to the ways I could enrich her life. I never imagined proving it outside the Mating Games.
As the rain patters the window, she says, “I’ve talked a lot, but what about you?”
“What do you want to know?” Perhaps she’ll ask me for my secret dreams.
“Why are you really here?”
“It was an accident… well.” My scales harden on my chest as if bracing for impact as I admit quietly, “But it may not have been accidental.”
“Hm. Someone trying to hurt you?” She glances at my wrists. “You were imprisoned, too.” She leaves the rest unsaid, but her face closes to me, jaw tightening. She’s unsure.
I get to my knees on the bare boards. “We were exiled in chains because of me. My crew and I were sent out to find a new plant, animal or mineral, something, anything, to help an ailing female. I was devastated to report failure, and even more distraught to learn we’d failed, and she’d… died.”
Part of me expects El-len to react as an Olorian female would. Losing one of their own is beyond disastrous, it’s catastrophic. I fear she’ll draw away, disgusted with my negligence, agreeing with my sentence or suggesting it isn’t harsh enough. If El-len reprimands me, I think I might claw my own hearts out.
“Wait.” Her voice is sharp. I don’t dare to look up into the judgment on her face. “You were exiled because you looked, but couldn’t find anything?”
“Correct.” My voice falls into a reporting cadence, waiting for condemnation. Admitting my failure is hard, but she has to know.
El-len stays silent for a time, each beat of it weighing into my hearts. Then her tiny fingers touch my chin, tipping it up gently.
I raise my gaze slowly, hesitantly.
El-len’s rich brown eyes shine even in the dim light of the shed. “How was that your fault?”
“I… I failed. I brought nothing back that would help her.”
“I get that, but surely that’s just blind bad luck. A rough roll of the dice for the poor woman, sure, but nothing you could control.” Her jaw tightens. “Why were you punished for that? How is that fair?”
Shock floods through my veins like ice. No one’s ever asked that before. As good, obedient Tubers, we haven’t contemplated the justice of our sentence.
She blinks slowly at me, then comes to stand in front of me, her expression fierce. “Come on, stand up, you’ll wear your knees out like that.” She offers out her tiny hands as if to help pull me upright, though I’m easily four times her density.
I rise, holding her tiny cold hands in my palms.
