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“Provyd asked I find you,” he says. “I speak your language better. He thought it would help.”
“Help what?” I ask, stopping in the doorway.
“Explain, I think,” he says. “Honestly. I’m not sure. Provyd thinks he upset you and wants to make it right, but he’s not sure either, which does nothing to help me to understand if you understand that. Oh, that is too many understands in one of your sentences. Hmmm.”
“It’s fine, I get it,” I say. The tension is building in my shoulders again making my headache. “Tell him…” What? Tell him what? I search for the words. Apologies are not something I have any practice with. I’ve spent so much time pushing people away, who did I have to possibly apologize to? “Tell him it’s fine.”
“It is?” the Zmaj asks.
“Yes,” I nod, or try to, but my neck is so tight it barely happens. “Fine. All good.”
“I will tell him, but…”
He trails off as I take a step out the door and it pulls me back in. I can’t leave without knowing what the but is, damn it.
“But?”
The Zmaj looks sheepish. Which I would have thought would be quite a feat for a Zmaj, with his horns, scales, and chiseled looking face, but he pulls it off as naturally as any human. He shakes his head and looks around the room as if he’s trying to come up with the right answer and hoping it’s in here somewhere.
“You should come.”
“I thought it was my choice?”
“Of course,” he says again.
“You’re not making me?”
“No!” he exclaims, taking a step back and raising his hands between us.
“Oh,” I say, as the fight drains out of me.
I’m not even sure what I’m fighting at this point. Him, this, me. Who knows, but all I can tell you for sure is that it’s gone.
“Please?” he asks, a wide grin on his face as he arches one eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. Well, eye, the scars on the other side make that impossible for that one.
“Fine,” I say, “lead the way.”
He claps his hands so loud it hurts my ears and laughs. Then he comes forward and I recoil. He stops dead in his steps, raising his hands again.
“I am sorry,” he says stepping back. He points at the door. “That way?”
I shudder, shake my head, then move out of the door.
“Sorry,” I say. “Jumpy.”
“It is my fault,” he says. “Truly.”
We could argue fault for hours on end to no point whatsoever so I let it go at that. I don’t know why I’m so jumpy but I am. Well, I do know. He’s a really, really big dude. A big alien, factually. What other reason does a woman need to feel jumpy around someone? If he decided to hurt me, I’d fight, sure, but end of the day I’m going to lose.
He walks down the hall, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I’m following, and I trail in his wake. Wondering if this isn’t the biggest mistake of my life. He stops just past the airlock. I stare at him and he motions to the door.
The airlock door is closed, as it should be, and through the window comes the light of the setting double suns. I arch an eyebrow unsure what it is he expects of me. He smiles and bows, continuing to unhelpfully wait.
“What now?” I ask when he doesn’t give any clarifications.
“He asks you to step outside,” he says, holding his bow.
