Page 62

My heart is still racing, and I feel lightheaded, so I lean against something that resembles a table. On it are a few scrolls, a tablet, and I assume a book from Earth since it’s written in English, though I don’t recognize the title or the author.

I reach down to pick it up when there’s a sudden movement to my right, and my head whips over to see this strange…well, it must be an animal, but it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before. It looks like a cross between a tortoise, an armadillo, and a boulder. I think it peers over at me, but I don’t see eyes, just a pair of antennae that swivel like it’s feeling me out.

I’m contemplating reaching down to pet it when it bursts forward, and I jump, letting out a small scream as it darts toward me on its six legs. It knocks into what I was leaning against, and I scramble up onto a chair, trying to get out of its way.

But it doesn’t follow me. It lumbers forward instead, pushing the table to the other end of the room as if it wants to rearrange the furniture.

Eissa appears at my side, his brow furrowed at the creature. “I told you to stay in your cage, but you never do as you’re told,” Eissa says and signs, and the antennae on the animal twist this way and that.

It ignores him for a moment, then it headbutts his leg, a long spiked tongue sliding from its mouth and poking at Eissa’s skin.

Eissa doesn’t seem bothered by this at all. He just reaches down and pats its head, then his gaze moves up to meet mine. ‘You do not need to be afraid. This is my pet,’ he tells me. ‘A kradun.’ The word is unfamiliar, spelled swiftly but slow enough that I can catch it and memorize it. ‘He’s harmless, but he’s an awful and stubborn creature who won’t leave my furniture alone.’

His words and the despondent way he signs them turn my anxious fear into uncontrollable laughter. I squat down on the chair and hold my stomach as I wheeze. Perfect, controlled Eissa has his place torn apart by a monster boulder tortoise with a spiky tongue and antennae.

It’s too good to be true. And absolutely what he deserves. I flop down and let my feet hit the floor again as the kradun ambles over toward me and starts to push my chair.

I let it, feeling the scrape of the legs across the ground.

‘So, you just let him do this every day?’ I ask as I continue to slide across the floor. It’s so fucking weird, and somehow that takes the edge off the heaviness of my being here instead of back home with the people who want me around.

Eissa sags onto his couch, the fibers of it wrapping around him as he does, almost as if to cushion him.

‘Yes. There is nothing I can do to stop him. When I am away too long, I come home to this.’

Finally I hit a wall and the kradun ambles off into a different part of the house, and I can no longer feel the vibrations of its movements under my feet.

‘I have tried to give him away,’ Eissa goes on, ‘and set him loose, but he comes back each time. It seems his presence in my life is non-negotiable.’

The look he gives me…I can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about his kradun, or if he’s talking about me.

Eissa’s eyes meet mine, and something snaps between us. My hands fist the arms of the chair, and my feet push firmly against the floor. I force my gaze away in an attempt to distract myself from his presence, but looking at the little things in the house isn’t helping.

There aren’t many knickknacks, but that’s not really a surprise. The Vyastil I have known like clean lines and sharp features. Every one of them—except maybe Cielo—has been neat and orderly, like a row of soldiers ready to take orders.

This house is different from his neat and crisp Foundry apartment, though, and I wonder if Eissa built it or if it was given to him like this.

A movement in my periphery has me peering to my right, and I see Eissa stand, his tunic billowing out around him. ‘Are you hungry?’

I shrug as my stomach barks. Eissa must hear it because he nods and disappears into another part of the house. It’s a place I haven’t seen yet, and I’m too curious not to follow.

When I turn a corner, I notice a small room, warmer than the rest of the house, with shiny countertops and a fireplace. It’s lit, and he puts something in a pot and hangs it over the blue flames.

‘It is soup. It…’ His hands hesitate as he searches for the words, ‘may resemble chicken noodle on Earth. I do not have the proper human appliances or food that you need to be comfortable here, but as you are now my companion, I will have them delivered as soon as I can.’

The way he’s addressing me is so…formal. He’s deliberately signing without emotion or heart, and it’s clear he doesn’t want to look at me, which pisses me off. The fury is soft at first, then it wells up to a thundering beat in my throat.

He must feel it because he peers over at me, his ears turning down as he takes me in.

He doesn’t ask how I am, though, or what’s wrong. Instead, he just blinks. Once, twice, and then turns around again. His hands are fisted at his sides, and he must realize I can see them because he tucks them into his tunic.

I don’t like being shut out, so I use my voice.

“Eissa.”

I’ve said it before, at night, when I had my hand down my pants, stroking myself to thoughts of him. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud to him, though.

His head twists and his mouth parts, his tongue flicking out.