Shanelle flushed with angry color. She’d be a first-class jerk to say yes to that, yet half of what she was feeling was exactly for that—but fortunately, not all of it.
“She just hugged the hell out of your leg, warrior! That was here and now, wasn’t it?”
He grimaced. “Now do you have a valid complaint. Shall I cut off my leg?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Shall I cut off her arms?”
“Falon!”
“How, then, am I to make amends for the doing of another?” he asked.
It was Shanelle’s turn to grimace. “All right,” she mumbled, “so it wasn’t exactly your fault, but I still don’t like it. When is she leaving?”
“She has asked to remain in this house as a servant, now that I will have need of them.”
Shanelle’s temper shot right back up. “Oh, no, she won’t.”
“The decision is not yours to make, woman. Yet do I agree it would not be wise to keep her here, so I will ask my cousin Tarren to accept her in his house.”
“Will he?”
“Indeed will he. He has tried to buy her from me many times.”
Shanelle was quiet for a moment before she asked hesitantly, “Was she the only one, Falon?”
He gave a mock-suffering sigh. “I see I must ask Tarren to take a few others as well.”
Shanelle grinned sheepishly. “I guess I can be a farden jerk sometimes myself. I’m sorry.”
“I am not. I do not mind your jealousy.”
She laughed now, to have her own words from earlier in the hall given back to her. That was when he caught her about the waist and tossed her onto the mammoth bed. Slowly he came down on it to partially cover her body with his.
Before he did anything else, however, he looked down at his own body, then caught her eye. “Yours, is it?”
Shanelle’s smile was utterly radiant. “‘All mine, and best you not forget it, warrior.”
Chapter 36
“Corth could make you a generator so you wouldn’t have to depend on the wind to work those ceiling fans,” Shanelle remarked from the bed as she watched the slow-moving fan above her barely disturb the air. “For that matter, these rooms, your whole house actually, could be air-cooled.”
She rolled over to see if Falon was even listening to her. He was, and he was finished dressing, too. She’d just as soon stay naked herself. It was still early morning, but the room seemed to be getting hotter by the minute.
“You know how I feel about visitor-made things, Shanelle.”
“You might be dead right now if it weren’t for one of those visitor-made things. And there are other things that are just as useful. Think of it, Falon. A room filled with cool air.”
He shook his head at her. “You will become accustomed to—”
“That’s if I survive.”
He didn’t say another word, he just picked her up and carried her into the bathroom, where the large gold tub in the shape of a chopped-off barrel had been filled with water. Shanelle had the feeling he was going to drop her into it, so she decided to annoy him by not complaining about it. He did drop her. She shrieked her head off as the cold water closed over her.
“That was a dirty trick,” she hissed at him. “You could have at least warned me it wasn’t going to be warm.”
He raised a brow, fighting to keep the grin off his lips. “Does the air not feel cooler now?”
“Go to blazes, why don’t you!”
“I give you what you want and still you complain. Is there no pleasing you this rising?”
“Real cute. Keep it up and I might start a running tab on getting even.”
He finally chuckled as he turned away toward the closets. “Best you hurry, woman. The first meal will soon be served, and you have yet to meet my sister.”
Shanelle splashed water that didn’t feel quite so cold now over her breasts as she watched Falon shrug into a black vest similar to the white one he’d been wearing. “Jadell said she’s older than both of you.”
“By nearly five years.”
“Does she have any children?”
He looked up sharply at that question. “Perhaps there is a thing you should know about Aurelet before you meet her. The battle the Ba-Har-ani were prepared to bring to the visitors all those years ago was because of my sister. She had been taken by a visitor from the planet Nida who had a small spaceship for his own use. Aurelet and her escort were Transferred, she to the man’s ship, her escort never to be seen again. He kept her for nearly two months on his ship, using and abusing her the whole while.”
“You didn’t search for her during that time?”
“My brother and I were too young to be allowed to help. My father searched. She had been taken near Tinet, a town the warriors of Ka’al sometimes would raid. My father nearly tore Tinet apart, yet no sign of her was found. We began to think her dead. Already my father mourned.”
“Then you didn’t even suspect it was a visitor who had taken her?”
“No. And when she was returned to us, it took weeks before she was calm enough to speak of what had happened. My father immediately gathered his warriors, and the call went out before them for a united battle. Warriors of other towns joined them on the way, for we were not the only ones visitors had offended, though our grievance was the worst.”
“I know this tale from our side. Though I never knew what the crime was, I know the guilty visitor was turned over to the Ba-Har-ani warriors, and the planet closed down soon after.”
“He was given to my father.”
“Did he kill him?”
“No. He brought him back to Ka’al and gave him to Aurelet for judgment. She killed him without a qualm. One month later she gave birth to his child, a boy child she has never called son. She became fifteen that same month.”
“Stars, that young to go through that? I’m so sorry, Falon. No wonder you hate visitors so much.”
“Not as much as my sister does. This is why I could not bring you home other than as a slave when I thought you a visitor. Yet might Aurelet still see you as a visitor when she learns who you are. Your brother has already been scorned by her. If this is all she offers you at first, it is my hope you will understand the depth of her bitterness and not be offended by her. Can you do this?”
“Certainly.” But then she recalled that the Catrateri were coming here, true visitors, and it was her fault that they were. “Falon, I know you agreed to let my brother bring the Catrateri here, and that will probably upset your sister even more. Has it occurred to you that you don’t actually have to let them into Ka’al, that you could speak with them and do all the negotiating necessary through Martha—well, maybe not Martha, but you could use Brock?”
“No, such had not occurred to me, yet does this idea please me. I will ride to the telecomm later this rising to call the Visitor’s Center to arrange it.”
“Ah, if I know Martha, and I do, she probably stuck a computer-link unit somewhere in my belongings. With it you could talk directly with Dalden and let him arrange it.”
“I would prefer to ride to the telecomm than to request anything of your Martha. And do you find that unit, you will bring it to me. I do not want you speaking with that computer again.”
She frowned at that reminder. “This has to be negotiable. For a time?”
“Forever.”
Her frown turned black. “Don’t do that to me, Falon. I can maybe see the necessity of cutting ties while I am adjusting to this new life, but not forever. We’re talking about a lifelong friend of mine, two actually, since Corth is also visitor-made. And I just solved a problem for you and gave up a visit with my brother to do it. In my book that says you owe me one.”
“A warrior could wish you were not so demanding of rights he is not even aware of. So be it. For a time, but a long time.”
He said no more on the subject, but Shanelle had been given even more hope for their future happiness. Her inflexible warrior wasn’t so inflexibl
e after all. He just needed to be pushed on the road to reasonableness in less direct ways, to avoid his inherent “dominate-all” tendencies. That shouldn’t be too hard to do—if she could survive the initial frustration.
Chapter 37
The welcomings-home began the moment Falon and Shanelle walked into the hall. The emptiness of a few hours ago was now transformed to an overflow. Every table was laden with food, though every seat might not be occupied. But at least fifty warriors were making a very great deal of boisterous noise—still another difference from a reserved Kan-is-Tran warrior, who rarely raised his voice, even in private.
Shanelle was to learn that the gathering of such a crowd was a daily occurrence. But Ka’al was large enough to require a permanent body of guards, kind of like an army, yet without the regimen and discipline of an official army, or a mini-government, for these warriors saw to all aspects of authority in one way or another.
This was Shanelle’s first experience of the Ba-Har-ani as a group, and the first thing she noticed was that there wasn’t another golden-haired head in sight. There were some warriors with dark red hair, some with dark brown, but most with black. And all were as deeply bronzed as Falon, giving testimony to the hotter sun in this half of the hemisphere. In stark contrast, the freed slaves moving about the room were easily spotted with their ivory-white skin, if their scanty garb wasn’t enough to set them apart.
Someone should have told them they could now cover themselves. But perhaps the word hadn’t got around to all of them yet that they weren’t slaves anymore—or perhaps none of the women here wore tops, slave or not. What free women did wear hadn’t exactly been explained to Shanelle, and those bare breasts bobbing around the room weren’t exactly drawing any notice, since these warriors were so accustomed to the sight.
She was looking forward to meeting Falon’s sister, if only to see what the woman would be wearing. That was the only reason she was anticipating the meeting, however, now that she knew it wasn’t likely to be a pleasant one. But if Aurelet decided not to like her, Shanelle would just have to live with it. There was no way she could blame the poor woman for hating all visitors, and even half visitors, after what she had experienced at their hands.
Shanelle wished she could have kept that sentiment. For a day, for a few hours even. At least for more than ten minutes. But Aurelet Keedar was a surprise Shanelle wasn’t expecting, and not one she needed on her first day in Ka’al.
The woman entered the hall with her lifemate, Deamon, the two holding hands, smiling after the pleasant reunion they had just shared. And Aurelet was still smiling when she spotted Falon and hurried over to greet him with sisterly devotion.
“Deamon has told me you took a lifemate, Falon, but that teasing sa’abo would say nothing about her other than she is lovely. Indeed is she lovely,” Aurelet said as she turned her smile on Shanelle in full welcome.
Shanelle wasn’t expecting that, but then all sense of normalcy went right out the window at her first sight of Falon’s sister. She had his coloring, her black hair long and flowing down her back, her blue eyes as light as his. She was a few inches shorter than Shanelle, but that was barely noticeable, she bore herself so straight and proud. Then there were the surprises.
The woman wore bracs, white zaalskin bracs that had to be made expressly for her, for they molded to her legs as if they had been poured on. Green hoots matched the short green cape that denoted Deamon’s colors, and a gauzy white shirt was tucked into the bracs, with loosely flowing sleeves, a wide collar, and a deeply plunging neckline. But if the pants weren’t enough to shock Shanelle, the sword belt strapped to Aurelet’s hips certainly was, especially since there was a three-foot-long sword hanging from it.
Bracs were for the exclusive use of warriors, denied to Kan-is-Tran women. So was the use of any weapons. Aurelet wore both, and not a single warrior there told her to remove them. She was allowed their use. Obviously Ba-Har-ani women were allowed more freedom than Shanelle could have thought possible. She wasn’t displeased at this difference, she was absolutely delighted.
But she had no time to savor the prospect of that freedom for herself, for Falon was quick to drop his bomb. “Aurelet, I would have you meet Shanelle of the house of Ly-San-Ter.”
The woman immediately stiffened. “Do you tell me that is a common name in that country, Falon.”
“It is not.”
“Then she is related to Dalden Ly-San-Ter?”
“His sister.”
Aurelet actually paled. “No,” she began in a whisper that quickly rose in volume. “Tell me you did not join with the daughter of that bitch who brought the visitors here. Tell me you did not, Falon!”
“Now just a—” Shanelle began, but both siblings ignored her.
“It is done, Aurelet,” Falon told her. “Not to be undone merely because you object. She is my lifemate and is to be treated—”
Aurelet cut in furiously. “It was bad enough when that other came here, but he left. This one you would keep here? I will not have it!”
Falon was beginning to show signs of some definite impatience, if not actual anger. “You have no say in this matter.”
“Do I not? Does she stay in this house, I will challenge her!”
“By Droda, you ... will... not!” he thundered. “You dare to dictate to me, sister, to give me an ultimatum? My lifemate stays no other place than with me!”
“Then she is challenged here and now!” Aurelet shouted just as loudly.
The silence that followed was awful. Every eye and ear in the room was fixed on this encounter, and why not? It wasn’t every day you saw a warrior, and a shodan at that, so angry he was crimson with it. Nor did you see a woman stand there and defy a warrior who was that mad. At least Shanelle had never seen it.
She was deathly pale herself. She hated confrontations of this sort. She’d been having one too many recently herself, and she couldn’t understand why that was, now that she thought of it, but this ... these Ba-Har-ani were too emotional, and with so little control of those emotions. And she was seeing her lifemate truly furious for the first time, which she didn’t like at all. She would just as soon not have known Falon could get this angry.
She was wrong, however, in thinking he didn’t have any control over his anger. He had enough to be able to say, with less volume, though with no less menace, “I forbid it.”
Aurelet also lowered her tone considerably, but not to back down. In fact, she was looking pretty triumphant. “You cannot, brother. It is done, challenge issued.”
“I forbid my woman to accept, so is it ended.”
Aurelet’s blue eyes widened. “You would let her shame our house?”
“There is no shame when she is given no choice in this matter by her lifemate, and will she obey me as is proper. You, however, shame this house by wishing to fight a member of your own family.”
“Never will I accept a half-breed visitor as a member of this family! Sooner would I—”
“Deamon, take your woman from my sight before I claim the right to punish her myself.”
Aurelet did not go quietly, not by any means. Deamon was forced to carry her out of the hall, and her curses followed loudly in their wake.
Shanelle was relieved that it was over, but she was still shaken by such animosity. She’d never had anyone hate her before, except perhaps Lanar. But who could tell what had motivated that strange Sunderian? With Aurelet there was no doubt. She definitely hated.
With the previous noise level returned to the hall, Shanelle felt it safe to finally say something, but she couldn’t imagine what prompted her to say to Falon, “You have these little family squabbles all the time?”
“I am sorry. I am pleased you can jest about it, but truly am I sorry.”
She was then engulfed by yet another difference in the Ba-Har-ani. These warriors felt no qualms about hugging in public.
“Maybe you should have just let me accept her challenge and get it over with,” Shanelle said.
“It wouldn’t have taken very long, and then she might at least back off from all that name-calling.”
The squeeze that suggestion got her forced a gasp out of her. The fierceness in his voice almost brought on another gasp.
“Do not speak foolishness, woman. My sister excels at female swordsmanship. There are none here in Ka’al who can best her.”
“Stars, why didn’t you say so? What was her intent, then, just to humiliate me?”
Falon leaned back to frown at her. “Does killing not occur to you?”
“Oh, come on, she’s a woman,” she scoffed. “And most challenges aren’t fought to the death when a challenge loss is much more satisfying.”
“For a warrior, perhaps, yet has Aurelet killed before,” he replied. “She has too much hate in her for her not to try to kill you.”
“Well, then, I suppose I should thank you for forbidding me to accept.”
“Indeed,” he said wryly.
“Just how many warriors has she beaten, anyway?”
“None.”
“But you said she was the best in Ka’al,” Shanelle reminded him.
“The best at female swordsmanship. Our women do not challenge warriors they cannot hope to beat.”
“Then why do you allow them the use of swords at all?” she asked.
“Occasionally are we raided by the Mal-Niki from the north.”
“Let me guess,” she said dryly. “The Mal-Niki aren’t too handy with swords.”
“This is so.”
“All right, so a woman can protect herself pretty well in that case,” she allowed. “But now tell me why you call it female swordsmanship.”
“Because it is a different style of fighting. It allows women some small chance of withstanding a warrior’s greater strength and skill.”
“But not much chance against Ba-Har-ani warriors, I take it?”
“No.”
“Then maybe you should know I fight like a—”
“Woman, I will hear no more about accepting challenge. Do you wish to fight, you may fight me. Only then can I be assured you will not get hurt.”