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"Fine," she surrendered, "let me just go and get my things."
"That won't be necessary," I filled her in. "I noticed your… lack of personal belongings and had a closet stocked for you."
"You what?"
I pointed at a door behind which a second closet was hidden. Which would have belonged to my vissy if I had one. For now it had been filled with garments and whatever else a seffy needed, to have Niara outfitted as her status deserved.
I didn't think the other vissies had taken more than a quick notice of Niara's poor clothing, but I had. I had also noticed what the other vissies wore and I had wanted Niara to have that.
If I had expected a squeal of delight from her upon seeing what I had arranged for her, I was sorely disappointed.
"What is that?" She inquired, turning to face me at the entrance of her closet without setting a foot inside.
"I ordered it for you," I said as the first stirrings of foreboding moved through my body. "You are not pleased?"
"Pleased?" She whirled and pointed at the many garments in an area that I was willing to bet was larger than her bedroom at home. "I’m not your concubine who you can dress as you like." She fumed.
"I never thought of you as my concubine," I defended myself, even though, I wouldn't have objected to a kiss in gratitude or… more.
"Let me be clear. I am your hostage," her eyes threw daggers at me. "Nothing else. I don't need to be dressed in finery. I don't need your… charity. I don't want it."
"Charity?" I thundered. "This isn't charity seffy, this is…" zyn, Myles, what exactly is it? My mind stopped me momentarily. "A thank you for training my males in diving, for working so hard on the equipment, your warning about the volcano, take your pick."
I nearly patted myself on the back for having come up with this reasoning so quickly, which in all honesty had not been on my mind when I ordered all the finery for her. It worked though, I could see it on her slowly changing facial features and I wasn't about to feel guilty for the embarrassment written over her paling face. Instead smugness rode me.
"A thank you would suffice."
"Thank you," she said in a low voice, that almost, made me feel guilty. Almost.
"You're welcome, now explore your new clothing, while I get the bed—"
Her wrath returned, by Grandyr this seffy's moods changed like a krumm—batlike creature—did directions.
"I will not sleep with you in the same bed," and then, for good measure—I suspected—she added, "Just so you know, I’m betrothed."
That hit me like a spear to the gut. Sudden jealously fanned through me. I kept it in check, barely, "Well, I wish you and your betrothed a long and happy life. I hope he is aware of what he is in for? Your temper seffy, is nothing to be trifled with."
Betrothed?
Why hadn't she said anything before? Why hadn't I thought about it. And most of all, why the snyg did it bother me?
NIARA
Well, I wish you and your betrothed a long and happy life. I hope he is aware of what he is in for? Your temper seffy, is nothing to be trifled with, my mind mimicked his words, while my nose twitched in annoyance.
My temper?
I bit my lips, when I remembered that I had misjudged him already once tonight. It was plausible that he wasn't after me, right? So he had flirted with me before. But I had laid my ground rules down and kept my door locked. I had been told before that I was beautiful, Conrad called me a temptation, so I had automatically assumed that Myles….
There you go with your assumptions again, my mind supplied, you also assumed he got your clothes so you would jump to bed with him. My face still burned at the memory of my earlier misconstruction of his intentions.
Slowly I moved into the closet, which was indeed a treasure trove the likes I had never seen before, or ever expected to own. His explanation of it being a thank you, I could fully accept and appreciate.
For the gods' sake, this closet was bigger than my bedroom on Horn. There had to be nearly a hundred garments here, ranging, and here my heart skipped for a moment at Myles's obvious thoughtfulness, practical pants to the most elaborate formal dining dresses.
He told me before that he didn't like to see me in pants, and yet, he had ordered them. What further proof did I need that he wasn't interested in me that way then?
And why did that thought sting?
