Author: Cari Z.
Date: 2012-05-17 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: M M Romance; Science Fiction; Gay; Romance; Fantasy; Aliens; M M Science Fiction; Lgbt; Futuristic; Queer
Description: Includes the short story prequel "Opening Worlds" at no additional cost!In this sequel to Cari Z's "Opening Worlds", former starship captain Jason Kim travels to Perelan, the homeworld of his lover, Ferran, to start a life together. The ruling council of the Perels have allowed this unconventional union to continue in the hopes of strengthening relations between themselves and the humans. And while Ferran's family welcome Jason with open arms, not all of the other major families are as pleased. The arrival of an outsider to their insular, subterranean world challenges the traditions of centuri
Publisher: Storm Moon Press LLC

Changing Worlds

By Cari Z.

Their love will either inspire change in the world or tear it apart.

Former starship captain Jason Kim and his lover, Ferran, are starting a life together on Ferran’s native planet. The Perel matriarchs reluctantly allowed their marriage in the hopes of securing better diplomatic relations with humanity, even though the decision ignites anger from traditionalists. Ferran’s family accepts Jason and the love the two men have found, but other influential families are less accommodating and much less willing to welcome an outsider to their isolated, subterranean world. Some of their enemies are willing to go as far as eliminating Jason permanently. Tensions are quickly building toward a breaking point that might push Perelan into a bloody civil war.

If Jason and Ferran have any hope of surviving the coming conflict, they’ll have to rely on their devotion to each other more than ever before. But that won’t be easy when a figure from Jason’s past reappears to make them question everything.

Table of Contents

Blurb

Acknowledgments

Opening Worlds

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

More from Cari Z.

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About thet Author

By Cari Z.

Visit Dreamspinner Press

Copyright Page

Acknowledgments

MANY THANKS to Dreamspinner Press for giving this story a second life.

Opening Worlds

JASON KIM looked over the mission log his supervisors had sent down earlier that afternoon and stifled a sigh. Back to Perelan. Damn it, he knew that the Silver Star was the best ship for those particular runs—part container vessel and part upper-class cruiser—but that didn’t make him like them any better.

Admittedly, the cargo was good. There was always a high demand for luxuries on Perelan, and he never had a problem filling the hold while he was there, but the passengers…. He could happily give them a pass. It was part of the deal, though, and while he was captaining a merchant vessel instead of a military starship these days, he always honored his deals. No pretending the life support couldn’t handle an influx of people, no insinuating that their treatment of his highly trained civilian staff was anything other than exemplary. In fact, it was likely his staff would do the civvy version of a mutiny if he refused passengers from Perelan, and Jason didn’t want to deal with that.

He sat back in his chair and glanced at the log again, charting courses and times in his mind. He’d load fuel and foodstuffs for arrival at Ceyla City and pick up passengers there. That would include three Perels, who apparently had decided they wanted to finish their postadolescent “tour of the ’verse” in high and expensive style. Following Ceyla City, they’d stop by Ishtar to load elegant, handcrafted consumer goods that would be snapped up on Perelan, and then finally circle back to the vaunted planet itself to drop off his three interlopers. After that, thank whoever his scheduler was, he was off duty for a month. It was past time too.

“Orders come down the pipe, sir?” his second-in-command asked, smiling slightly. “Fluttering down to you like little angels from on high? Zipping along the information superconduit? Smacking into your brain at warp speed—”

“Thank you for that series of outdated turns of phrase, Flo; you must have been saving them up for a while.”

“Yes, well, I like Old Earth idioms as much as the next person, sir.”

“Or far, far more than the next person.”

“Yeah, that.” She peered at the screen with interest. “Where’re we going?”

“Ceyla, Ishtar, Perelan.”

“Money run,” she noted, not at all put off by Jason’s terseness. “Passengers?”

“Whomever we can fit comfortably, but we’re reserving three suites for some Perels coming aboard in Ceyla.”

“Oooh, they’ll need them,” Florence smirked. “Make sure they get the biggest beds available too. Perels rarely sleep alone.”

“I’m well aware of their preferences.”

“They’ll be good for business. Everyone wants to travel with a Perel….” Florence’s voice trailed off as she remembered why Jason might not like to hear that. “Sorry, sir.”

“Water under the bridge, Flo.”

“Nice one,” she congratulated him.

“For you, I’m willing to make the effort.” Jason looked over the mission log again. “The delivery for Ceyla should be arriving around fifteen hundred hours, local time. Can you handle the loading and preflight check? Make sure all the staff are on board and prepped?”

“Absolutely, sir,” Florence said immediately. “I’ll let you know when everyone is settled and we’re ready to head out. Go and do something relaxing. Have a bubble bath. Hit a punching bag. Holo-snipe something.”

“Point taken,” Jason said dryly. He left the bridge and headed back to his quarters. He paused as he stepped into the foyer, looking around with jaded eyes. As the captain, he was given the nicest quarters on the cruiser, nicer even than the first-class cabins that would be going to the Perels. It really wasn’t right, he mused. He didn’t need all the space, not anymore. He lived alone. Had lived alone for nearly a year now. He had a massive tub that was going to waste, a bed he rarely spent more than a few hours in, and a living room with a couch he never sat on. The formal dining room was always empty, never used for entertaining guests nowadays. When Blake had been with him, they’d had people in at least once a week. The only place that still got the same level of use was the kitchen, and that was just because Jason loved to cook.

Jason brushed his fingertips across the back of a mahogany dining chair, a piece he had inherited from his parents. He should probably have the dining set sent back to his home on Jacksonville, or just put them into storage, but there was always the possibility that he’d have to use the set at some point. When someone important enough came on board, he’d have to follow the old tradition of inviting them to dine with him. In the meantime, he could deal with the empty spaces. He was very good at that.

Jason went into the kitchen, carefully laying his captain’s jacket over the back of a stool as he did. He glanced in his cooler, looking over his selection of fresh foods. Not much to choose from, and they wouldn’t reach Ceyla City for another week. He activated his com and put a call in to the ship’s steward. “Kayle?”

“Yes, Captain?” The Dorn’s smooth, harmonic triple voices were immediately soothing, and Jason felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t even realized they were tense.

“I’m running low on produce. Could you have one of my regular orders brought on board before our departure?”

“Certainly, sir. May I add some Chinese cabbage to your order? I’m having some brought on board for our guests and thought of you.”

It had been months since Jason had made kimchi. He quickly ran an assessing eye over his cupboard. “Can you find some red chili pepper as well? And fresh ginger?”

“I will endeavor to meet your needs, sir. The ginger may be quite expensive.”

“That’s all right. If you find it, I can afford it,” Jason said. It had been a long time since he splurged on anything for himself, and ginger was a versatile luxury.

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“No, thank you, Kayle. Check in with Flo before you finalize the order, though. She’ll be a bear if she doesn’t remember to get some of her ice cream on board before we head out.”

“Very true, sir.” The lowest of Kayle’s voices was heavy with irony, and Jason knew that Kayle remembered that week as vividly as the rest of the crew did. Florence Zelenkar was an excellent officer and a generally cheerful person, but she had her weaknesses, and a certain brand of ice cream only available at their current berth was one of them.

“Kim out.” Jason turned his com off and rolled his neck in a circle, listening to the minute cracks and clicks with a frown. If he had time in Ceyla City, he’d get a massage. There was a relaxation therapist on board, as well as countless holo programs for exercise and stress relief, but Jason didn’t really want to bother his crew with his tension, and he never seemed to be able to lose himself to the virtual reality of a holo like he should. Blake had given him massages that seemed to melt his bones, but those had stopped coming long before their relationship had ended.

Jason closed his eyes and sighed. If he could go back and do it over…. No, never mind. There was no point in speculating on the past. He headed toward the bathroom, his lean fingers reaching up to undo his shirt buttons. The tub might not get a lot of use, but the shower was almost as good.

“SIR?” FLORENCE appeared at his elbow in the loading bay. “We have embarkation starting in five. Time to smarten up and impress the masses.”

“Mm,” Jason replied, watching as his hold was rapidly emptied of its cargo. “I’ll be right there.”

“Of course you will, sir. And I’ll just wait here for you.”

“Commander Zelenkar, I’m not going to stand you or our passengers up,” Jason gently chided, knowing what she was thinking.

“It will mean a lot to them to be personally greeted,” she said unrepentantly. “I’m only staying in order to take over if something goes wrong and you’re unavoidably detained or something like that.”

Jason stared flatly at his first officer. “You’re coming very close to implying dereliction of duty on my part, Commander.”

“That isn’t at all my intent, sir. I merely wish to facilitate the execution of your many duties as best I can,” Florence said with a perfectly straight face. “That includes me being on hand to assist you in any way possible.”

Jason glanced down at his chrono. “I should probably leave now if I’m going to get to the doors on time.”

Florence just kept looking attentive.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir. I’ll finish things up here.”

“When you’re done, meet me in the bridge. Ceyla’s control tower is opening the shields for us in forty-five minutes, and we don’t want to be late.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jason walked away with the barest hint of a smile on his face. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he had been thinking that he might be a little late, but time was tight, and it was important to get the cargo unloaded as safely and efficiently as possible. His first officer was perfectly capable of overseeing that, however, and the cartel he worked for did specify that the captain of the ship be there to greet all incoming passengers, as well as see them off at their destinations.

He made it to the doors with thirty seconds to spare. The rest of his crew was on hand as well to welcome the passengers and guide them to their cabins.

“How many are we taking on?” Jason asked in a low voice as he stopped next to Kayle. The Dorn was bent gracefully in two, a ritual posture signifying welcome, or so Jason had found out a while back. Kayle was still a foot taller than most of the Terran crew.

“Twenty-seven, sir.” Kayle’s harmonics were serene. “All human except for the Perels. I have prepared their cabins to their specifications.”

“Good.” Naturally, Kayle had everything well in hand. He should; he had six of them, after all. Jason looked at his chrono again. “Open the doors.”

The cruiser’s wide passenger doors opened, revealing the high-ceilinged entrance hall, his uniformed, attentive staff, and himself, hopefully looking friendly. Blake had often told Jason that his poker face couldn’t improve on his normal imperturbability, and that he’d seen statuary with more emotion. Or some variation thereof. Well, expressionless was better than unhappy, Jason reasoned.

He did his part in welcoming every passenger aboard, shaking hands, clasping shoulders, or bowing depending on the newcomers’ preference. Jason was well acquainted with most of the human-inhabited systems in this part of the ’verse and their protocols. The new arrivals were whisked away, and finally there were only the Perels left to board.

All three were male, the only gender allowed off Perelan without a vast accompaniment. Two of them were perfectly identical, answering a question Jason had wondered about before regarding their reproductive process. The twins were slightly shorter than he was, with moon-pale skin and glossy, silky hair that tapered to sharp, quill-like protrusions from the top of their head in a line down their spine. Their stylish black jumpsuits, made of far better material than usual for the standard spacer’s clothes, were backless to accommodate their alluring anatomy. They had nearly human features, but their eyes were twice the size of a human’s, dark brown and almost without white. Their chins were sharp and pointed, and their ears were shaped like tea leaves, pointed back alongside their heads. They were beautiful, dream-like creatures with the morals of an alley cat, and judging from their perky welcomes and lingering caresses to his hand, they were both in the market for partners.

The third was similar, but also strikingly different. Every Perel Jason had ever seen before was a single tone, from the smooth skin over their front halves to the lustrous pelt across their backs. This one was two-toned, the same white-pale skin, but his hair darkened as it changed, becoming an amber brown at its tapered points. His ears were slightly tufted with darker pieces as well, and his large eyes were the same amber as his head and back. His features were a little less pointed, a little less ethereal, but he was just as beautiful as the other two. He looked curiously at Jason, who suddenly realized that he’d been keeping the Perel waiting.

“Welcome aboard,” Jason said stiffly, disturbed by his lack of focus. He offered his hand, and the Perel shook it gently.

“Thank you, Captain.” His voice was a warm, husky sound, not exactly a purr, but not a normal speaking voice from a human perspective.

“This is Kayle, the steward on the Silver Star. He’ll accompany you to your quarters and answer any questions you might have.” Jason stepped back slightly, more than glad to pass the responsibility of settling their passengers off to the capable Dorn. “We’ll be departing shortly.”

“I am Ferran,” the Perel said quickly, his introduction cutting off Jason’s retreat. “These are Neyarr and Garrell, my cousins.” His bright eyes were fixed on Jason’s face, startlingly intimate.

“Honored to make your acquaintance,” Jason said automatically. “Please excuse me; I need to supervise our departure.” He nodded slightly, and then turned and walked away, trying not to move faster than he normally would. Externally, he was fairly sure he looked the same; internally, he was unsettled. Jason had never been affected by a Perel before. Generally, he found them beautiful but not attractive—sexual but not sensual—creatures. He certainly had never been aroused by one before.

Not, Jason mentally berated himself, that he was aroused now. Interested, perhaps. Yes. Interested. And so would all twenty-four of the other passengers be, and most of his crew as well. He didn’t care to be one more brief conquest for a voracious Perel. He didn’t want to be anyone’s brief conquest. Transitioning in and out of relationships with ease had never been one of Jason’s traits, and he wasn’t going to change at his age. Squaring his shoulders, he made his way to the bridge.

“YOU’RE AVOIDING the dining room.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes,” Florence said slowly, drawing out the vowel, “you are. You never invite people to your place these days. I get that. You’re not under any obligation to. But it’s only courteous to check on your passengers and accept some of their invitations to dinner. You’ve been holed up in your room or on duty for the past three cycles.”

“I’m busy.”

“A captain is always busy,” Florence said philosophically. “But that doesn’t stop him from doin’ what he’s gotta do.”

“At what point did you make yourself my social secretary, Flo?”

“When you started acting all weird,” she replied. “C’mon, come to dinner with me tonight. I’ll take the Perels—I’ve got a standing invitation to their table. You can hang out with some lovely, normal humans and be dashing and friendly and make people happy.”

“All that?”

“All that in one simple evening.” She spread her hands. “Amazing how it’s all coming together, like fate. You’re such a brilliant multitasker.”

“Don’t push it, Flo.”

“Perry’s got the bridge,” Florence said with a fast subject change. “Are you going to wear your uniform to dinner?”

“Of course.”

“Should I?”

Jason made a face. “Are you asking my fashion advice? Really? What have I ever done that makes you think I would be a good person to ask about what to wear?”

“You always look good.”

“I’m always in uniform,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, well, it so works for you.”

Jason shook his head. “I’ll see you at dinner, Flo.”

“Got it, sir.”

IT SAID something for his state of mind that Jason did consider his more casual clothes, briefly caressing silk and cotton before turning back to his uniforms. They were stiff, formal, and suited to the attitude he wanted to project. He adjusted the collar in his mirror, smoothing the dark blue fabric down. He didn’t see in himself what Florence did. He was moderately tall and slim, and his hair was thick and still black as night. His features were plain, regular except for the slight tilt at the edge of his almond-shaped eyes. He was just himself. The uniform would make anyone look good. He left his hat off and made his way to the dining room.

Jason stopped at the door, astonished by the transformation. The elegant tables, normally spaced well apart, had been clustered together in the center of the room. The Perels were, for lack of a better word, holding court, and every single person there was in their thrall. Each of the twins was in someone’s lap, and people were laughing and generally being far more relaxed than the formal dining room was accustomed to. The third Perel, Ferran, was standing and speaking with Florence, but as soon as he saw Jason, his attention shifted. He excused himself and moved toward Jason. Florence threw him an amused look that made him want to shout at her, but now wasn’t the time for emoting.

“Good evening, sir,” the Perel said, his tone warm and inviting. Very inviting…. Jason ruthlessly shifted his brain back into captain mode.

“Good evening.”

The Perel held out his hand and Jason shook it briefly, resisting the gentle slide of fingers against his wrist.

“It’s Ferran, yes?” As if you didn’t already know.

“Yes, Captain,” Ferran said with a smile. He paused for a moment, as though expecting a first name back, but Jason didn’t say anything else. “Will you join me for dinner?”

“It looks as though there isn’t any other choice,” Jason said with a glance at the conglomeration of tables. One of the twins was doing some sort of contortion now, in another passenger’s lap, and everyone seemed to be enjoying it.

“We could pull something aside for ourselves,” Ferran offered. “I would prefer it.” Huge amber eyes gazed at Jason, apparently finding him… finding him what, exactly? Whatever the Perel was seeing, he seemed to be fascinated.

“Fine,” Jason found himself agreeing. “I’ll speak to the staff.”

“I can do that,” Ferran said quickly. “There are several with the main group now.” Sure enough, his diligent wait staff was as taken with the impromptu show as everyone else was. Jason sighed internally. Discipline always suffered when Perels were on board. Ferran slipped away, and Jason quickly walked over to where his first officer was sipping a glass of champagne.

“Did you know this was happening?”

“Just because it’s happened every night out so far didn’t necessarily mean tonight was going to be the same,” Florence said primly.

“I don’t appreciate being set up.”

“I’m setting you up for fun!” she encouraged. “Ferran is a great conversationalist. You might enjoy yourself. If you don’t, you can leave. One of the perks of being the captain.” She leaned in a little closer. “He really wants to know more about you. He’s asked me about you every evening since he boarded.”

“Why?”

Florence was saved from having to answer by the return of the person in question. Ferran didn’t touch Jason, although from the way he extended his hand toward him, he seemed to want to. Instead, he turned to indicate the table beside the wall, about twenty feet away from the other diners. Jason accepted the invitation and joined him at the table, where a waiter who wouldn’t quite meet his captain’s eyes poured them fresh glasses of water. Jason picked his up and sipped a little, watching Ferran do the same. “No champagne for you?”

“I’ve had a glass,” the Perel explained. “My cousins are fonder of it than I am. But you, Captain, would you care for some?”

“I’ll be back on shift in an hour. I don’t want any alcohol in my system.”

“One hour?” Ferran seemed disappointed. “You can spare no more time?”

“One hour should be sufficient for dinner,” Jason said. He felt like an asshole when he saw his companion’s face fall further. “But please, call me Jason while I’m off duty.”

“Jason.” Ferran immediately brightened. “Thank you for your name.”

“My pleasure,” he replied, trying not to stare too openly into his companion’s eyes. He looked over at the waiter. “Whatever Elise has fresh is fine.”

“Another of the dinner salads, please,” Ferran requested.

The third wheel vanished, and Jason was left in semialoneness with the Perel. Fortunately, he wasn’t expected to start the conversation.

“You are very reserved.”

Jason set his water glass down with a thump. “Only by comparison.” Ouch, harsh, he thought with an inward wince.

Ferran didn’t seem bothered, however. “Yes,” he agreed. “More dignified. More… aloof. We are not accustomed to aloof.”

“I can’t imagine you would be.”

Ferran shrugged elegantly. “We are empaths. If the surrounding mood isn’t comfortable for us, then we do our best to adapt it to better suit our needs.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?” Jason asked, his jaw tight. He really didn’t need to be some Perel’s pet project right now.

“No,” Ferran said quietly. “The Silver Star is large enough that we could avoid your presence if we wished, and you seem inclined towards privacy. You are not uncomfortable, Jason. You’re just different. Your emotions run very deep. I find you quite interesting.” He tilted his head slightly. “You do not care for us, however.”

“It’s not you specifically,” Jason assured him, flushing slightly at being called on his attitude. “I’ve never really known a Perel before.” Damned if that statement didn’t have a double meaning too.

“Most humans seek us out. We are considered enjoyable company.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I would be more than happy to better acquaint you with our ways.”

“I’m not interested in sex,” Jason said bluntly. Ferran’s ears flattened a little.

“We are more than our sexuality, Captain,” he replied, a little less fluidly than before. “I would never presume to ask for more than you wish to give. I simply thought you might find our culture interesting. Most humans never bother to inquire.”

Ah. That’s what jumping to conclusions gets me. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Oh, what the hell. “I’d be very interested to learn more about your culture.”

Ferran smiled, his ears perking back up and the quills along his head settling to softness again. “Do you have any specific questions?”

Now that he thought about it, Jason did. “What is the climate like on your world?” Perels didn’t seem overly fond of clothing.

“It varies depending on the region, but overall warm and moist,” Ferran said. Their plates arrived: Ferran’s small with a colorful display of fresh vegetables and a delicate citrus dressing, and Jason’s with a filet of what looked like salmon, but probably wasn’t, given their distance from the home system. There was a salad for him as well, and a small side of long-grained rice. It was a meal reminiscent of home, and Jason found himself enjoying it.

Much to his surprise, he enjoyed the company even more. Florence was right; Ferran was an excellent conversationalist. He moved easily from topic to topic, answering Jason’s questions about Perelan fully, but not going overboard, and asking his own questions about Jason’s home. Before he knew it, he found himself describing the Jacksonville colony and his family’s home there.

“It’s a challenging place to live,” he admitted, “with the storms and the rapid shifts in temperature. The entire planet is closed to further development, mostly because homesteaders don’t take the warnings seriously enough and settle in places that can’t be tamed. Jacksonville and Buquetti are the only colonies of any size left, and more people choose to leave than stay.”

“Do you miss your family?”

“I’m the last member of my family to live there,” Jason said. “We were among the original colonizers, but after the first few generations, most of them chose to move on. My parents died long ago, and I am their only child. I don’t spend as much time in the house there as I’d like to.”

“Tell me about your home,” Ferran requested softly. Jason opened his mouth to begin, but then his chrono chimed.

“Oh.” Time had completely gotten away from him. “Excuse me. I have to be on the bridge in five minutes. Thank you for dining with me.” He folded his napkin precisely and pushed his chair back.

Ferran stood with him. “Will you join me tomorrow evening?” he asked.

“I had planned on eating in tomorrow.” Jason saw the sparkle in Ferran’s amber eyes dull a little and shocked the hell out of himself by continuing, “Would you care to dine with me?”

“I would be very pleased to join you,” Ferran said, his lips curving into a sweet smile.

“I’ll send a crew member to escort you. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Jason turned and walked away, wondering what he was getting himself into by inviting a Perel to his rooms. Probably nothing more than a comfortable evening together. He had no doubt now that it would be comfortable, and perhaps another presence would help to exorcise some of the bad memories he had of his own space.

He wouldn’t tell Florence about it, though. Her head was big enough as it was.

JASON WAS sure the following morning that Florence knew exactly what was going on, but she graciously spared him the third degree and focused on running the cruiser instead. They were five days out from Ishtar but had plenty to do: managing ship functions, overseeing the health and well-being of their passengers, and keeping an eye on their course. Cruisers like this practically flew themselves, but unexpected gravity waves could shift the most meticulous plans, and Jason thoroughly rechecked their course every shift.

The only indication Florence gave that she knew about her captain’s dinner guest was a cheerful “Enjoy your evening!” as she took over for him on the bridge. The closest Jason came to commending her for being a busybody was his quiet “Thank you” before leaving. As he reached his rooms, he paged Kayle and asked him to send an escort for Ferran.

“Certainly, Captain.” All of Kayle’s voices registered satisfaction. For the first time, Jason wondered how concerned his closest crewmembers had been about him that they were suddenly all smug over a simple dinner invitation. He took off his jacket and stood uncertainly outside his bedroom door, wondering if the occasion called for changing into more casual clothes. Jason eventually decided against it. He didn’t want to seem too welcoming. On the other hand….

Jason realized what he was doing and frowned. This was not a date. There was no reason for him to change, or for him to be hesitant over what to wear, or for him to be nervous at all. This evening was nothing more than cultural exchange, the chance for him to learn more about an alien race. When he was in the fleet, he’d loved having the opportunities to visit new worlds and new peoples. The war had changed that, though, and now he was content to run his routes and return to his isolated home whenever he could. That sort of reclusive life hadn’t appealed to Blake for long, although he’d hidden it well. Still, Jason should have seen it coming. He should have seen more.

Jason left his formal shirt on, undoing the top button and pushing the sleeves a little ways up his arms. The kimchi was ready to go. He’d had it fermenting for a while and didn’t want to stain the shirt. Apart from that, he’d prepared japchae, a noodle and vegetable dish that could be eaten cold, and there was hot water for tea. After a moment’s consideration, Jason brought out his celadon-glazed cups instead of mugs. He set them on the formal dining table, considered the lonely effect, and then moved the cups and plates to the bar separating his kitchen from the living room instead. There were stools to sit on; it was formal enough. He slipped a reed place mat under each plate, and then consciously made himself stop fussing. Ferran would arrive any minute now.

The door chimed, and Jason felt himself relax a little. He walked over, and the door slid open, revealing Ferran and a concierge. “Thank you, Nori.”

“My pleasure, sir,” the concierge replied, and then he was off down the hall.

Jason stepped back and motioned the Perel inside. His guest was dressed in a warm brown color, the fabric close and clinging like a jumpsuit would, but made from a far finer material. The neckline was high, but Jason could see that Ferran’s back was still bare. The quills seemed more sharply delineated that evening, less feathery and soft than before. He wondered about the body language of a Perel, and how close it was to a human’s. Was Ferran nervous? Jason felt his underused abilities as a host reappearing. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Ferran said just as formally.

Jason berated himself as a poor purveyor of small talk and tried again. “Are your cousins taken care of for the evening?”

“They undoubtedly will be,” Ferran assured him. “Your staff has been most attentive, and Neyarr and Garrell have made many friends here.”

Jason was a little curious as to whether “friend,” in this context, was a synonym for lover, but after his faux pas the night before, he didn’t feel comfortable asking. “I’m glad they’re enjoying themselves.” He motioned toward the kitchen. “The table felt too big for only two. Do you mind eating at the counter?”

“Not at all.” Ferran walked beside him to the other room, his lively eyes taking in all of his surroundings. “Your quarters are very elegant.”

Jason smiled. “Are you sure you don’t mean sparse?”

“Not at all. The openness makes one feel welcome, freer to move than in a place with clutter. The furnishings are simple, but very well-made.” He sat down on the stool at the counter and placed his hands on the blue-veined marble, smoothing over it lightly. “It suits you very well.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jason retrieved the hot water and poured it into the teapot. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.” Ferran’s gaze fell on the plates of colorful kimchi. “Is this what we’re having for dinner?”

“Part of it.” Jason brought the plates over to the counter and sat down next to Ferran. “I was wondering, are you vegetarian?”

“That means I don’t eat meat?” Ferran waited for Jason’s nod. “No, although I rarely choose to eat animals. Did you make this vegetarian for me?”

“When I make kimchi, I usually prepare it without meat, but the rest of the meal is vegetarian as well, just in case,” Jason said. Ferran’s quills perked a little bit, and he smiled at the admission. “It is spicy, though.”

“That’s all right. Is this a popular food for humans?”

“For some humans. My ancestors came from Korea, and kimchi has been prepared there for thousands of years.”

Ferran took a small bite, just enough to taste. He smiled suddenly. “It’s sweet!”

“It’s not always prepared sweet, but I like it that way.”

“I like it too.” He took another bite. “Tell me more about Korea.”

“Oh no,” Jason refused, lightening his refusal with a smile of his own. “I want to learn more about Perelan. There’s very little information about your home world on the register. Fewer than a dozen Terrans have been allowed to visit your planet since we first made contact almost a century ago. The only times we ever see you are at the trading station in orbit or when Perels like you and your cousins leave to sightsee. By all accounts, you’re a very passionate people.”

“You’re very diplomatic,” Ferran said. “It’s true—when we get the chance to travel, we’re often… overzealous, especially at first. But you must understand, Perelan is a highly insular society. There aren’t many of us—fewer than a million now—and males outnumber females five to one.” He paused to take a bite while Jason poured the tea. “We were a patriarchal society until our civil war, almost a millennium ago. Over 80 percent of our population was destroyed, and our scientists were very… uninhibited with their biological attacks. Of those who survived, over half were left sterile. Genetic manipulation since then has improved the situation somewhat, but not much. We are now ruled by a council of matriarchs, and by law, all Perels who are capable of reproducing are kept on Perelan.”

Jason frowned slightly. “Does this mean….”

“Yes, Captain. I’m sterile. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

Judging from Ferran’s tone of voice and formality, Jason guessed he’d struck a nerve. “You’re my guest this evening, Ferran. Please, call me Jason.” That got him another small smile. “Have you enjoyed your time away from home?”

“Immensely!” The Perel’s tone and ears perked right up, and his quills seemed to soften. “There’s far too much to see, though. It was so hard to choose.”

“How long have you and your cousins been traveling?”

“Nearly one of your standard Terran years.”

“Where have you visited?”

“Many fascinating places.” Ferran began to describe their trip, starting with the departure from Perelan, and Jason felt mildly smug at putting his guest at ease. Ferran was interesting to listen to, his descriptions fresh and open. Perels who went off-planet were generally catered to, as they gave very freely of themselves and their money. Jason was glad to hear that Ferran hadn’t had any truly bad experiences.

The empty kimchi plates were exchanged for the japchae, and more tea was poured. Ferran ate with a good appetite and complimented Jason on his cooking. They compared notes on the places that both of them had visited, and after several hours, Jason had moved them down to his much-neglected, but very comfortable, couch for dessert, which consisted of small cups of chocolate mousse.

Ferran devoured his helping as politely as possible and scraped the cup thoroughly. “I like sweets,” he sheepishly explained.

“Next time, I’ll make more,” Jason said.

“Next time?” Ferran’s ears perked again, and his eyes widened farther.

“If you’re interested,” Jason amended, slightly surprised at himself.

“Very much,” Ferran assured him. “You’re wonderful company.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Everyone seems to think so. Your crew speaks very highly of you.”

Jason shrugged. “They’re paid to work with me.”

“It’s more than that,” Ferran said. “I can feel their respect when they talk about you. They seem very protective of you. The man who escorted me here felt rather concerned that I not do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

“Ah.” Well. That was sweet, and more than a little embarrassing. “Most of them have been with me for several years.” At least a year of him with Blake and a year without. No doubt, the contrast was more severe than he realized.

“Then surely they know you well enough to have formed a reliable opinion.”

“I suppose.” Jason was tired all of a sudden. He’d done more talking this evening than he had for the past week, and he didn’t feel like doing any more introspection.

“It’s late. I should leave you.” Ferran stood, and Jason rose with him.

“Would you like an escort back to your suite?”

“No, thank you. I can find it,” Ferran replied. Jason walked Ferran to the door, grateful for the chance to be alone again, but feeling a little guilty over it as well.

“Will we dine again tomorrow?”

Jason sighed. “Not tomorrow. I have the evening shift. Is the day after all right?”

Ferran’s quills sharpened slightly. “The day after is fine for dinner. May I join you tomorrow for lunch?”

“Won’t your cousins think you’re abandoning them?” Jason asked lightly.

“We’ve been together constantly for nearly a year, and anyhow, they have each other. I want to get to know you.”

Jason had the feeling he was being paid another compliment and didn’t really know what to do about it. “Lunch will be fine. I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

“Thank you.” The door opened and Ferran turned toward it, paused, and then turned back. “On Perelan, we have a special gesture for good-byes. It’s a bit like a human hug, but less tactile. May I show you?”

“Sure.”

Ferran leaned his upper body close to Jason’s and turned his head slightly so that their right temples touched. Jason felt the intense heat of Ferran’s skin and the warmth of his breath on his cheek. It seemed to fill and soothe him, but then Ferran was drawing back. Jason wanted to follow him and just barely stopped himself.

“Good night,” his guest said softly.

“Good night.”

Ferran left, and Jason leaned against his closed door. His whole body was aching for that tender warmth, and he felt his first erection in far too long growing. He sighed. It was going to be a rough few weeks.

JASON GAVE his crew a day of leave once they reached Ishtar. All of the human passengers were disembarking there, since no humans were allowed to visit Perelan without a ridiculous number of permits. With only the three Perels to take care of, the crew’s workload was minimal. He was rather surprised when Florence said to him, “I’ll stay with the ship this time.”

“You love visiting Ishtar.”

“I’m coming back after we finish at Perelan.” Her expression was completely ambiguous as she continued, “I thought you might like to show Ferran around some. Since he’s never been before.”

And never will again, the subtext shouted loud and clear. Jason wondered just how much Florence knew about Perel culture. Probably more than he did, and after five days of nearly constant company with Ferran, he felt like he had learned quite a lot.

Jason found it inexplicable. Ferran seemed to want nothing more than to spend time with him. His cousins were working their way through the humans like it was a competition, and morning-after descriptions of incredible sex were becoming commonplace. It was only them, though. Ferran kept to his cousins or to Jason, which made some of the passengers pout and his crew brazen enough to wink at him from time to time. One officer even threw him a knowing look and an offhand comment about his privacy that made Jason want to yell, “I’m not fucking him!” Because he wasn’t. Not that he didn’t want to, at this point.

They’d eaten at least once a day together ever since that first evening. Ferran had joined him for lunch, and then, after his shift was over, had surprised him with an invitation to dessert. The dining hall had been deserted except for the two of them, and they’d stayed up for several hours, long after Jason was usually asleep. It had made his next shift a little trying, but Ferran cooked for him in his quarters the next evening.

“I DIDN’T know you cooked,” Jason commented as he sat and watched the Perel sauté button mushrooms and some sort of crystalline grain he’d never seen before.

“Cooking was one of my responsibilities in my mother’s household, and probably will be again when I am married,” Ferran replied.

“You’re getting married?”

“At some point. It’s expected,” the Perel demurred, stirring slowly. “Fertile females take many husbands. Males who can breed occupy themselves with caring for the children; those who cannot, take care of the household. Our females are highly educated, far more so than… anyhow, when my cousins and I return, we’ll be the right age to be married. Ney and Garr are already promised to someone.”

This information didn’t sit at all well with Jason, despite telling himself he needed to be tolerant of other cultures. “Why do they let you leave?”

“Our mothers have learned that it is in our best interest to allow us some freedom before our marriages. Those who can afford it send their unmated sons to travel beyond Perelan. Those who cannot, make do with a period of liberty on our home world. I’m very fortunate to be here.”

His words said “fortunate,” but his tone was low, and Jason had learned when Ferran’s quills went completely flat like that, Ferran was sad or disappointed. He stepped in behind Ferran and put one arm gently around his shoulder, saying nothing, just holding and offering support. Ferran’s quills fluttered against his arm, but the wide smile he turned on Jason was reassuring.

THAT HAD been their first embrace but not their last. Ferran seemed to crave touch, and whenever they met after that, Ferran greeted him with a hug and left him with a Perel farewell. They watched a movie together one evening on the couch and ended up with Ferran’s head in Jason’s lap, his body curled up in a ball. Jason hadn’t done anything more than rest his hand on the back of Ferran’s neck, but Ferran had seemed happy with it.

The tension between them had been clear, but Jason was positive Ferran wasn’t going to make a move, not after their awkward first conversation a week ago. Jason wasn’t sure he was going to make a move either, honestly. Yes, his body was very interested. His mind was engaged, and he found Ferran to be a fascinating person, but casual was difficult for him. Unfortunately, casual was all that was possible with the Perel. Jason had to decide whether it was enough, and Florence had given him the perfect opportunity to do that.

Ferran was clearly surprised by the invitation out, his eyes going wide as his quills flared.

“I thought you had to stay on board.”

“Florence is covering for me,” Jason explained. “She thought I needed a break.”

“That’s very kind of her.”

“It is,” Jason agreed. “You shouldn’t feel obliged to go with me, however. I’m sure your cousins have plans.”

Ferran gave Jason a look. “Have I done anything to suggest I would not be perfectly happy accompanying you?”

Jason shrugged. “I just want to make it clear you have options.”

“I’m aware of all my options. I want to go with you.”

They left the Silver Star and took a flyer to the edge of Ishtar’s capital city. There was a nature preserve there, a place that Jason loved to visit whenever he had the time. Ishtar didn’t have nearly the natural volatility of his home planet, but it did have incredible fauna. The preserve was less of a zoo and more like a game park, the only enclosed section being the butterfly pavilion.

There were over a thousand varieties of butterflies there, some of them native to Ishtar, some of them imported from Earth. Jason and Ferran stood on the observation deck and watched a million bright bodies flit about.

“They’re so lovely,” Ferran said. “Like jewels. We have something like this on Perelan, but they have dark, simple coloration.”

“There’s very little wildlife on Jacksonville,” Jason noted. “Nothing delicate survives. I have a butterfly house, though, as part of my garden. It’s expensive to maintain, but I like to look at them, and they help pollinate the flowers.”

“You have something like this in your home?”

“Much smaller,” Jason said with a little laugh, “but yes, something like this.”

“I wish I could see it.”

There was no mistaking the sadness in Ferran’s tone. They both knew he didn’t have time to make a side trip, not at this point. “I wish you could too. I’d have enjoyed taking you there.”

Ferran made a noise Jason had never heard from him before, something between a sigh and a whimper. The gaze Ferran turned toward him was positively wounded. “Let’s talk about something else,” Ferran whispered.

“All right,” Jason agreed. “Why don’t we go? We have dinner reservations in an hour.” Ferran just nodded, and they left the butterfly pavilion in a decidedly somber frame of mind. A little time and distance seemed to help, and when they were sitting down to eat an hour later, Ferran seemed normal again.

“It’s all eaten with your hands?”

“It’s traditional here,” Jason said as he rinsed his hands with the help of the waiter. Ferran followed suit, and then he picked up the first appetizer. “It’s kind of like a competition, keeping your fingers clean while you eat. I’m not sure why.” He bit into the crudité and closed his eyes briefly.

“That looks good,” Ferran said, watching Jason raptly.

“Try it.” Jason held out the other half, and then started in surprise when Ferran leaned over and ate it out of his hand.

“Very good,” Ferran agreed a moment later, his lips curved in a saucy smile.

Jason decided at that moment not to fight it. Ferran wanted him; he wanted Ferran. Whatever happened would happen. His new resolution fit his Zen turn of mind well, and Jason immediately felt more relaxed. “You should try some more.” He lifted another, different appetizer and held it out. Ferran nibbled at it, the edges of his lips brushing Jason’s fingertips. “Good?”

“Delicious,” Ferran replied.

They worked their way through five plates of finger foods, finishing with things that were so sweet and sticky it was impossible not to get their hands messy. The waiter was standing by with water and towels, though, and Ferran seemed to love every second of it. Jason paid, and they walked back out to the flyer. Ferran took his hand, and Jason turned toward him, bringing their bodies close. “What do you want?” he asked.

“You.”

“Where do you want to go? There are some excellent hotels—”

“Back to the ship,” Ferran blurted, his grip tightening a little. “Back to your rooms. Please.”

“All right,” Jason murmured. “We can do that.”

It wouldn’t have been his first choice, but he wanted Ferran to be comfortable. They headed back toward the ship. The flyer was an automatic, so neither of them had to drive, which was good since the Perel had decided that his rightful place was on Jason. He straddled his lap, light and lithe against him, and ran the soft pads of his fingers over the ridges of Jason’s face. Jason looped his arms loosely around Ferran’s waist, not wanting to pull him any closer, because he didn’t want things to be over before they’d gotten back to the Silver Star. Usually, he had excellent control, but it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone, and Ferran was beautiful and warm and wanting.

Ferran leaned closer and brushed his lips, feather-light, over the lines that his fingers had traced. He paid particular attention to Jason’s eyes and ears, and when his mouth closed gently over one earlobe, Jason moaned softly, tightening his grip on Ferran’s naked back. “I want to do what you like,” the Perel said breathlessly. “Tell me what else you like.”

“Mmm, I like you. Everything about you.”

“I would do everything with you.”

“God.” Jason squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “But not here. Wait until we get to the ship, all right?”

“Until we get back to your ship,” Ferran agreed. He stopped petting Jason, but he didn’t move, instead curling forward and tucking his head beneath Jason’s chin. His quills were lax with contentment, and they hadn’t even done anything yet.

They managed to board without having to see anyone else, although Jason did check in with Florence before firmly bidding her good night. They got into Jason’s quarters, took their shoes off, and Jason hung up his jacket. Then he took Ferran by the hand and led him back into his bedroom. It was a large bed, with a simple white comforter and two long pillows, decorated with a single red stripe down the center. He stared at it for a moment, remembering, and then decided to make a new memory. “Undress,” he said, turning to look at his lover.

Ferran stepped back a bit, and then smoothly pulled his tunic over his shoulders. His pants went next, sliding down slim hips and over his dark-nailed feet. The shimmering bronze fabric lay like a pool on the floor. There was a flush of color in his milk-pale skin, especially over his face and groin. He had a familiar anatomy, which was something of a relief to Jason, and he was completely hard.

“Go lie on the bed.”

Ferran cocked his head a little in curiosity, but turned and crawled up onto the bed. Seeing his body totally exposed for the first time, not just his back, was enough to make Jason want to jump onto the bed with him, but he sternly reminded himself to calm the hell down. Ferran lay down on his side, curling a little, and stared at Jason.

Jason unfastened his shirt and took it off, folding it on top of his simple dresser. He did the same with his pants, making a neat pile, and then pushed his underwear down and off and placed them to the side. Now comfortably naked himself, he stood at the foot of the bed for a long moment, admiring the picture Ferran made lying there, sweet and wanton at once, and committed the image to his mind. “You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you,” Ferran murmured. He stretched out his arms, and Jason moved into them, curling up against his lover so that they faced each other. “Anything you want,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

“Lie on your back,” Jason directed. Ferran did so, and then Jason began to explore him. He started the same way Ferran had, fingers drifting over his features and the smooth lines of his body, followed by lips and tongue. Ferran’s eyelids quivered when Jason gently licked at them, and the same treatment of his ears provoked a guttural grunt. Jason meandered down his body, teasing three pairs of nipples, delving into his bellybutton, and then skipped his groin and caressed his thighs and calves.

Ferran whined and panted, his breaths pleading with Jason to touch him, and when he finally did, just a glance of fingers and palm, his body curled reflexively. “Jason!”

“Too light?” Jason asked.

“Too… not… more,” Ferran finally said. “Again.”

Jason had noted, in their brief hands-on interludes, that Ferran seemed to prefer a light touch. His skin was highly sensitive, his proprioception incredible. It probably had to do with them being a mostly nocturnal species, accustomed to low light and visibility. Jason gripped more firmly, but still gently, one hand on Ferran’s shaft as the other cupped his tightly drawn testes.

“Jason!” There was need and heat and so much affection in Ferran’s voice.

“Like this?” Jason breathed. “Do you want to come like this? Whatever you want, Ferran.”

“More of you,” his lover pleaded. “More for you. Lie with me.”

He stretched his arms out again, and Jason went to him, lying between his legs and pressing their erections together. He was covered in precum, as slick as if he had used the lubricant in his bathroom, and the slightest touch between them was a wonderful pain.

“Jason,” Ferran hissed in his ear, slipping flexible legs over his back and pulling him closer. “Jason, Jason, yesss….” They ground together once, twice, a third time, and then Jason was coming, his semen gushing between their bodies. His groan of release blended with Ferran’s high, sharp cry as he came as well.

Jason gradually regained his mind and realized he was probably crushing Ferran. He pushed his weight up onto his arms and pulled back a little, looking into his lover’s face. Ferran’s great amber eyes were slitted, only the darkness of arousal gleaming through. His mouth was slightly open as he panted, and before he could rethink it, Jason leaned in and kissed him.

It was their first kiss. Kissing felt more intimate than sex in some ways to Jason; it was more than lust, it was permission for a partner to claim a more substantial piece of him. Kissing, to Jason, symbolized letting his guard down in a major way, and even as he reveled in Ferran’s passionate response, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Ferran didn’t seem to share his hesitancy, opening into the kiss like it was breath and he would suffocate without it. His tongue was longer and thinner than a human’s, and a little rougher, but he was careful with it, only giving Jason little licks, not curling it around the back of his throat.

Jason pulled himself away after a few minutes of kissing, heading into the bathroom for a wet cloth. He cleaned himself off quickly, but thoroughly, and then went out to where Ferran was sprawled boneless, content, and wiped him clean as well. They lay together for a while afterward, Jason on his back with Ferran’s head on his chest, arms tight around his middle.

“Was it wonderful for you?” Ferran finally asked.

Jason smiled. “Absolutely wonderful. You’re wonderful.”

“Good.” His lover snuggled in closer, pressing his nose against Jason’s throat. “You’re wonderful too.” He was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I could be again.”

“What, wonderful?”

“Yes.” One of Ferran’s hands drifted down toward Jason’s cock, which was taking a decided interest. “If you like.”

“Oh, I like.”

Ferran laughed, low and husky, and shifted on top of him, kissing Jason again before sliding down his body. After a few moments, Jason realized that his tongue was just rough enough, and more than long enough, and so wet and so tight that it was impossible not to come for him. Jason returned the favor, they rested for a while, and then, an hour before his shift started, Ferran brought him into his body. The tight, pulsing heat was so familiar, yet so, so alien, and instead of sharply defined human muscles beneath his fingers, he gripped the trembling, crested quills of a Perel. It felt amazing, and with the edge taken off his need, Jason prolonged their coupling until Ferran was crying out and begging and writhing against the bed, and his abandon was so gorgeous that Jason had to give him relief. He touched him, stroked him in a loose grip until his lover came, and then he let himself go. It was glorious.

There was just enough time for the two of them to shower before Jason had to leave. “You can stay if you like,” he offered Ferran as he buttoned up his uniform jacket.

“I should return to my suite to change and greet my cousins, but I’d love to come back,” Ferran replied.

“I’ll come find you after my shift,” Jason promised. Ferran drew him in close for the Perel good-bye, but this time as their temples touched, he cupped Jason’s face with his right hand.

“This is how lovers say farewell,” Ferran husked. Moved, Jason copied the action and then pressed a brief kiss to Ferran’s cheek before turning to go.

IT WAS another thirteen days to Perelan, and Jason spent every waking hour of them either thinking about Ferran or being with him. He’d only felt this way once before, when he’d first met Blake. That had turned into a lengthy courtship, layers of intensity building between them until the tension had been unbearable.

With Ferran, of course, it was different―Jason didn’t feel the same need to outdo himself at every turn, not when their time together was so circumscribed. All he wanted was to be with Ferran, for every tender moment and every mundane action. Ferran seemed to feel the same, passing up the drama favored by his cousins for quiet evenings spent together, talking about whatever came to mind. It was a welcome intimacy, a connection, that Jason had never felt before. He was determined to enjoy it for as long as he possibly could.

While Jason didn’t advertise his relationship with Ferran, he didn’t try to hide it either. His crew seemed to heartily approve, especially Florence. The other two Perels were less accepting of things. It was strange. The first day they had seemed pleased for their cousin, almost relieved, but as the cruise went on and Ferran continued to basically live with Jason, their approbation faded. Ferran ignored it, but it bothered Jason.

“Are they unhappy with me?” Jason asked him over dinner five days out from Perelan.

“Not with you specifically,” Ferran assured him. “More with me. They think I am being unwise.”

“I thought sowing your wild oats was an expected part of this trip for you.”

“It is. My cousins simply wish I were sowing… a little farther afield. They think I’m spending too much time with you,” Ferran explained.

“Ah.” There was some logic to that. “And what did you say to them?”

“That how I spend my time is my business. I’ll never—” He stopped abruptly, his quills sharpening and rising. They settled as he said, “I like spending time with you. I told them that. They are satisfied.”

Despite their supposed satisfaction, one of the two sought Jason out at the end of his shift the next day. “May I speak with you?” he asked with cool politeness.

Jason checked his chrono. “If it’s more than a simple issue, you’ll have to wait fifteen minutes.”

“I will wait.” The Perel retreated to the observation deck below the bridge. Florence was standing with Jason, and watched him go.

“Weird.”

“I think I know what this is about.”

“Yeah?” Florence sighed. “Me too.”

Jason was surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. Garr actually asked me to bring it up with you, but I didn’t feel comfortable interfering with your private life and told him so.”

“This must be a new discomfort.”

“You’re happy,” she snapped. “I’d like to see you stay happy.”

“Flo… what Ferran and I have is temporary.”

“Yeah, and that’s a damn shame. Fucking Perelan matriarch bitches.”

“Keep that opinion to yourself, Commander,” Jason said sharply.

“Yes, sir. That one’s Neyarr, by the way.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jason joined the Perel on the observation deck. “How may I help you?”

“You may please stop encouraging my cousin.”

“Encouraging him to what?”

Neyarr’s quills flared. “To intimacy.”

“That’s a surprising statement coming from you.”

“Emotional intimacy,” he clarified. “He is too close to you. It will make his reintroduction to our world much more difficult. Ferran has enough challenges facing him when we reach home again. He would have been better off accepting a betrothal before leaving. It would have kept his mind more focused.”

“I don’t understand what specifically you’re asking of me.”

“To stop seeing him. Stop sleeping with him. Stop caring for him.”

Jason drew in a sharp breath at the pain he suddenly felt in his chest. Stop? Now, before Perelan? “I don’t think I can do that.”

“You are not good for him, Captain,” Neyarr insisted. “We are sent away knowing that this is the end of our adolescence. It is to be our one great look, and afterward we put aside the frivolity of childhood and dedicate ourselves to our families and our people. Ferran comes from a powerful family, and his marriage contract will be worth much to his mother despite his sterility. He must be able to enter into a contract with a clear mind and an open heart, with the memories of this time to sustain him. If you engage with him further, I fear the memories will not suffice. He will be in love with you, and he will not be able to dedicate himself to his home properly.”

“Why aren’t you telling him this?”

“My brother is, as we speak. We have tried several times already, but Ferran will not hear us. I come to you in the hopes that you can keep his best interests in your heart, and do what is right for him. You are a thoughtful man. I know you will consider my words.” Neyarr inclined his head, and then turned and walked off the deck. Jason turned and stared out blankly into space. Give Ferran up. Now.

He had known it was going to end, of course. He’d gone into it knowing that, but now? He didn’t feel ready. He hadn’t prepared himself to let go yet. He couldn’t let go yet. Even as he thought it, Jason knew he was in real trouble. “Hell,” he muttered under his breath. He needed to get back to his quarters.

Ferran beat him there. He was sitting on the couch, his legs curled tight against his chest, his big amber eyes fixed unwaveringly on Jason as he opened the door. “He spoke with you.”

“Your cousin? Yes.” Jason took his jacket off, rubbed his aching neck. He felt far too tired.

“He told you to leave me alone.”

“Yes. For your sake.”

“Garr said the same thing to me.”

Jason looked straight into Ferran’s eyes. “They’re not wrong.”

“They feel wrong.”

“Feelings aren’t always the best indicator of what’s right and wrong.”

“I don’t want to leave you. Alone.” The pause wasn’t lost on either of them. “Please don’t make me go.”

“Ferran….” Jason toed off his shoes and socks, undid the top button of his shirt, and came over to the opposite side of the couch. “No, stay there,” he said when Ferran made as if to join him. His lover looked wounded, but obeyed. “Can you convince me they’re wrong? Neyarr didn’t sound like he was making things up on the fly. I had no idea your life would be so circumscribed when you returned to Perelan.”

“I told you the fate of sterile males.”

“Can’t you pursue an education? Your people are well-liked, couldn’t you become a diplomat?”

Ferran shook his head. “Our mothers feel the need to keep us close and well in hand. They fear another great shift in our society might lead to our extinction next time.”

“They don’t trust you.”

“No. They don’t.”

Jason leaned his head against the back of the couch. “Ferran, I don’t want to make returning to Perelan hard for you.”

His lover shook his head. “It was always going to be hard. The tour is more than a gift to keep us content. It is a trial of our character. Not everyone can return to Perelan and reintegrate into society.”

“What happens to those who can’t?”

“They usually kill themselves. My older brother was one such.”

“What!” Jason was shocked out of his exhaustion. He sat up and stared at Ferran. “Why did he do that?”

“He said he missed the stars.”

“You have to go.” Jason’s heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. “You have to leave. Right now.”

“No, no….” Ferran extended a hand toward him, his voice soothing. “I am not like him. I will not hurt myself. The only thing that will damage me is being forced to leave you earlier than I must.”

“Ferran….”

“Please, trust me. Trust me to know this much about myself.” Ferran pulled his hand back to his chest. “Unless my staying hurts you. I never want to cause you pain.”

“It’s too late for that,” Jason murmured. “You know, don’t you? You can feel it.”

“Yes. I love you too.”

“Damn it.”

“Jason….”

“Come here,” Jason said tiredly. Ferran came immediately into his arms and curled around him, almost protectively. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“For this, for us. I should have known better than to get involved with you. I did know better, in the beginning.”

“Don’t be sorry for us,” Ferran whispered. “Would you really rather we never meant anything to each other? You are worth every challenge being with you brings me. I hope I’m worth it to you.”

“That’s not in question,” Jason replied. “I’m just… hell. I’m just sorry. This is going to get very difficult.”

“I know.”

They stayed curled together on the couch for the rest of the night.

THE FINAL few days of the trip to Perelan were subdued for Jason. He didn’t give Ferran up, to the obvious discontent of his cousins, but he didn’t lose himself in him like he had before, either. He couldn’t. He was too busy mapping his lover’s body, fixing it in his memory and trying not to think about what he was heading back to on Perelan. An arranged marriage. So he could be a glorified servant. That was probably unfair, but then Jason wasn’t feeling like being fair. He felt like taking the ship to Jacksonville and shutting the two of them away in his house forever. He felt like showing Ferran all the places he’d never been to, of taking him back to the home system. He felt like staying in bed and never having to get out again. All lovely thoughts, and all completely impossible.

Their last night together was incredibly tender. Jason spent hours making love to Ferran, teasing him and opening him and taking him, and then he gave himself for the first time. He hadn’t bottomed often, not even with Blake, but Ferran had been slow and cautious and so, so gentle, and it had been wonderful. Ferran had curled around him like he always did afterward, but this time his grip was tight, and he murmured muffled words in his language into Jason’s hair. Jason wanted to ask him to translate, but he refrained. It probably wouldn’t help him to know.

The next day, the Silver Star docked at the trading station in orbit around Perelan. The station’s manager came to meet them and welcome the three wayward travelers home. Jason was on hand to greet her and bid farewell to the Perels.

He had already said a more emotional good-bye to Ferran that morning in bed. Neither of them had slept for more than an hour, and his lover’s eyes had been dilated and slightly panicked.

“Not like this,” Jason said firmly. “You have to pull it together and convince me you’re going to be okay, or I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I am sorry,” Ferran said. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“Yes.” Jason didn’t have to say I told you so; he got no satisfaction out of it.

Ferran shut his eyes briefly, and then unclenched his hands from Jason’s pillow and relaxed some. “I’ll be fine.”

“Better.”

“I miss you already.”

There was nothing Jason could really say to that. He pulled Ferran into his arms and held him close for a long time, breathing in his lover’s exhalations and pausing every so often to kiss him.

He couldn’t do that now, at the gate, not if he wanted to maintain any sense of dignity. The manager was a Perel, and undoubtedly empathic enough to know what was going on, but he felt no desire to break down in front of her. Jason shook hands with Neyarr and Garrell, and then it was Ferran. Eyes down, Ferran leaned in and touched their temples together, and then clasped Jason’s face in a lover’s caress. Jason did the same, ignoring the offended yip from one of the other Perels, and then pressed a kiss to Ferran’s cheek. They parted, Jason looked at him one last time, and then he turned and walked back into the ship.

JASON TURNED command of the Silver Star over to Florence, who, for once, didn’t have anything to say. He took a small passenger cruiser to Hadrian’s Rock, where his personal ship was berthed, loaded it with supplies, and then made his way back to Jacksonville. It took less than a week, but it felt like much longer to Jason. He barely slept, keeping himself alive on stimulants and vitamin injections and flying constantly. He was fortunate that there were no storms on the surface when he touched down inside his compound, because he probably wouldn’t have navigated them very well.

Jacksonville was remote, a dying community on a deadly planet. Those who stayed did so because they had the means and they’d found something to love in the beautiful savagery of the place, not because it was in any way convenient. For the first time since he left Perelan, Jason started to feel again. It wasn’t comfortable. He moved through his rooms, exhausted feet hitching slightly on the hardwood floors, his hands moving over everything he owned, as though trying to convince him that it was enough to have things and not Ferran.

Jason stayed out of the greenhouse. He couldn’t go in yet and see the butterflies. He went onto his deck instead, little more than a strip of concrete and a foot-thick metal railing, and watched an electrical storm move in. All the storms of Jacksonville were dangerous, but the electrical storms were something special. They combined the power of thousands of lightning bolts with the beauty of royal purple clouds, cerulean skies, and the pale green mist of the crashing ocean. It was suicide to stay out during one of them, but Jason felt oddly detached from his body. The rain poured down, hitting him like nails, but his face was already wet. It rained, and it thundered, and the sky broke into a million bright and jagged pieces above him, and all he could do was mourn.

When the hail came, he felt himself begin to bruise, and reluctantly reentered the house. A few moments later, his deck was inundated with enormous hail, splitting into slush against the concrete until enough was built up so that every new piece was cushioned on the bodies of its brethren. Jason stayed and watched, soaking wet and shivering, until the storm let up an hour later. His shoulders and head stung with the hail’s impact, and he reluctantly headed into the shower.

Jason had done something similar when Blake left him, deliberately given himself over to the fury of a storm. It seemed like a fitting way to say farewell to a piece of himself, and the last time he’d done it, he’d felt… different. Better, a little more at peace. This time, he only felt sore, tired, and the need and the anger inside of him were still there, not exorcised like he had hoped. When sleep came, it was like it had been before, filled with Ferran, and he woke up to a bleakness that clenched his heart tight and wouldn’t let go.

PEOPLE VERY rarely visited Jacksonville, and no one had ever visited specifically for Jason before. He couldn’t quite believe his ears when the colony’s control tower hailed his home’s com. “Who wants to meet with me?”

“It’s a Federated Colonies diplomatic cruiser, sir, currently registered under Ambassador Giselle Howards.”

Jason’s lungs froze for a moment. “She’s assigned to Perelan.”

“Yes, sir.”

Too many scenarios began to spin through his mind, and none of them were optimistic. “I’ll open my compound for her cruiser.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.”

Jason closed the com and opened his compound’s personal shields. Moments later a sleek, elegant cruiser was touching down twenty meters from his front door. It held ten people at most, but it held them in absolute style. He slipped on his sandals and went out to meet his visitors.

The ambassador was a tall woman, taller than him by several inches, with dark brown skin and white hair trimmed very close to the scalp. She wore a blue silk pantsuit and a white silk scarf around her neck, and if Jason had possessed the energy to feel self-conscious about being seen in his simple cotton house clothes, he would have.

“Captain Kim,” she greeted him, shaking his hand.

“Ambassador Howards,” he replied. “Would you care to come inside?”

“Please.” She followed him inside and took his invitation to sit down at the table. “No tea, thank you,” she continued when he offered. “What we have to discuss hopefully won’t take long.”

“What exactly do we have to discuss?” Jason asked as he sat across from her.

“There’s a situation on Perelan. A good situation,” she quickly reassured him after seeing him pale. “For the first time in our combined histories, Perelan is considering opening itself up to new alliances. Formal alliances, requiring diplomats and negotiators. They are considering diminishing some of the tariffs that make trading so difficult and allowing aliens with the right qualifications access to places on their planet that we’ve never seen before.” She paused, clearly expecting a question.

“How does this concern me?”

“You, Captain Kim, happen to be the only person who is considered provisionally qualified by the Council of Matriarchs.”

There was only one thing she could be referring to, but Jason wasn’t sure he believed it. “Why, because I slept with a Perel?”

“No, because you’re in love with a Perel,” Ambassador Howards replied calmly. “Or so I’ve been assured. Your character was fully investigated before the Council would approve my coming here on their behalf, of course. Your first officer, Florence Zelenkar, speaks very highly of you. Your superiors with the Shimona Cartel say you’re an exemplary captain, and the Perels who have personally interacted with you were impressed. One in particular.”

Jason’s throat felt dry. “Ferran.”

“Yes. Matriarchs are strongly devoted to family, and they would never have considered letting one of their offspring go for more than a usual tour without a strong emotional commitment from their partner.”

“Partner?” Jason mentally shook himself and tried to catch up. “This is about Ferran becoming my partner?”

“Yes.” The ambassador pulled a document and a pen from her briefcase. “The Council is only willing to open their borders to someone who is as dedicated to them as they themselves are. In essence, you would be agreeing to an arranged marriage, Captain. You and Ferran would spend a year together under observation on Perelan while he learned the art of diplomacy, and, afterward, you would be responsible for accompanying him on all his missions on Perelan’s behalf. You would have to give up your current job, of course, but you would be offered a position within the FC’s diplomatic corps. It would mean a raise in salary and a dedicated cruiser and staff for the two of you.” She tapped the film beneath her hand. “All the details are here. This is a chance to open new doors for an entire world, Captain.”

“This is…. Ferran and I knew each other for less than a month.”

“If, after the year was up, you wished to end the marriage, it would be ended.” She pointed at another line on the sheet. “You don’t have to do this, Jason,” she said kindly. “It’s very irregular, rather archaic by Terran standards, and would greatly restrict your freedom for at least a year. If you chose to remain married, it would be considered a permanent bond. Divorce is unheard of on Perelan except in rare, prenegotiated situations similar to this or in relationships that have devolved into abuse.”

“And Ferran wants this?”

“Both he and his matriarch. He’s to be a test case. The Council has apparently been waiting for years for someone to fit their requirements, and he actually approached them about the possibility right after he returned. There was some question as to his fitness due to familial issues, but he was evaluated and approved. Now all you have to do is sign.”

Jason looked down at the film on the table, words that would shape the rest of his life if he agreed to them. “I want to talk to Ferran.”

The ambassador shook her head. “One of the requirements is that you sign before discussing it with him, as proof of good faith. Please be assured that this proposal wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t wholly dedicated to you.” She sat back and folded her hands. Jason looked around and thought of everything he would be giving up in order to have Ferran. Then he pictured Ferran, and a moment later he signed the contract.

“Excellent.” Ambassador Howards signed her name below his as a witness and then beamed at him. “I suppose you want to see Ferran now.”

“Well… as soon as possible. Can we leave immediately for Perelan?”

“No, that’s not necessary yet. He’s here on my ship.”

“What?” Jason felt the blood rush out of his head. “He’s here, now? I could have discussed this with him?”

“No, you couldn’t have. Good faith, remember? He was sure you would sign. The Council agreed to give the two of you some time here alone before sending you to Perelan. Shall I ask him to disembark?”

“Yes.” Jason stood up from the table and walked quickly to his door, back outside into his compound. The door to the ship was already open and Ferran was running through it and toward him, and in another second, he was in Jason’s arms, holding him desperately close.

“I knew it, I knew you would, I knew it, I knew,” Ferran whispered, his voice catching roughly. “I love you, I’m sorry, I love you… have I ruined everything else?”

“No,” Jason said. “Nothing’s ruined.” He cupped Ferran’s face in his hands and kissed him. “Are you sure about this?”

“So sure,” Ferran replied, kissing him back. “And it’s… it’s only for a year, if you decide you don’t want me forever.”

Jason smiled. “We’ll see. It was a good safety measure to add, but I don’t think we’ll need it. I think forever suits us better.”

Ferran beamed and kissed him again. “So do I.”

Chapter One

A LOT could change in a month.

As a child, a month had been near interminable for Jason, the passage of time grindingly slow. But by the time he was in the military, each month had become the same as every other, time passing in a strict, reliable, and mostly unexciting way. Working as a civilian had been the same, regimented and stable and safe. Dull. Then, a month ago, Ferran had come aboard his ship.

Ferran: Perel, alien, and unlike anyone Jason had ever met in his life.

Jason had found a love like he’d never experienced before and lost it far too soon. Ferran had left him, restricted to his home planet after a brief period of liberty, like all male Perels, and Jason had taken a leave of absence and returned to his own home to mourn something he’d barely had a chance to discover.

Now, less than a month after he’d given up hope, Ferran was back. He and Jason were, for all intents and purposes, married, and both of them would be moving back to Perelan in the company of the Federation ambassador tomorrow, to begin training Ferran as a diplomat.

And Jason? He didn’t know what role he was going to play on Perelan, other than husband and resident alien oddity. To be perfectly honest, he didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, Jason was content to live in the moment—not because he had nothing to look forward to, but because he was happy.

The whole thing still felt slightly surreal.

“What about this?” Ferran asked, looking over at Jason from where he sat cross-legged in front of the closet. He held up what looked like a plaster imprint of Jason’s five-year-old hand.

They were packing up the last of Jason’s belongings that would come with them to Perelan, and Ferran was incredibly inquisitive. It was fortunate Jason didn’t have much capacity for embarrassment, otherwise he’d have been constantly red. He’d had no idea his mother had kept so many of his childhood things.

“That can stay,” Jason said, carefully folding one of his favorite sets of casual clothes, made from actual silk and cotton. They wrinkled if he wasn’t careful with them. He set them in the open case next to his dresser.

“What is it for?” Ferran asked, setting his own hand curiously against the imprint. His fingers were long and milk-pale, capped with thick, blunt nails that were almost out of place on his otherwise delicate hands.

“It’s just a child’s gift,” Jason said. “We made them in class one day. I thought my parents had gotten rid of that long ago. Where did you find it?”

“In a box in the back,” Ferran said. “There’s a mask as well.” He pulled out a brightly colored dragon mask, the features almost perfectly colored in by a young Jason. He’d been something of a perfectionist even then. Ferran put the mask in front of his face. “It’s very fierce, but a little hard to see out of.”

“Your eyes are a little bigger than mine,” Jason remarked, amused. Ferran’s eyes were easily twice the size of his own, with amber irises and large, dark pupils evolved to capture any trace of light. Ferran pulled the mask away and grinned, and for a moment, it was all Jason could do not to stop sorting through the closet and take him to bed. Again. But they’d only been given a week for their impromptu honeymoon, and spending so much time absorbed in his lover earlier was giving Jason a headache about finishing everything now. It wasn’t like he owned a lot of things. Packing should have taken half a day, max, but it had stretched out, slowed down, and crawled to a halt as Jason let himself get lost in the reality of having Ferran with him again.

Forever, he reminded himself, turning back to the last of his clothing. We have forever now. I don’t have to count every second. But the anxiety within him refused to be soothed, and he abandoned the clothes in favor of joining Ferran in front of the closet. “What else is back there?”

“I haven’t checked yet,” Ferran said, but he looked eager to keep going.

“Let’s find out.” Jason reached back into the lichen-scented depths of the closet and closed his hands around a small tube. He pulled it out and sat back a bit farther to escape the strong smell of the preservative. “These are mine, actually.” He barely remembered burying it back there a year ago.

“What’s in it?” Ferran asked curiously.

Jason unscrewed the cap on the cylinder and pulled out a sheaf of thin films. “They’re pictures.”

“Pictures of what?”

“All sorts of things,” Jason said absently, remembering why he had stuffed most of the pictures he owned into a tube and shoved them into the back of his closet like a petulant child. It had been an unusually turbulent moment for him, one of the few times when he let emotion carry him away into actions that weren’t logical. Instead of getting rid of the pictures that bothered him, Jason had completely cleaned house, emptying both his quarters on the ship as well as his home of photographs.

“Do you mind looking at them?” He was undoubtedly picking up on Jason’s resistance.

These pictures weren’t really things he wanted to look at right now, but he didn’t have any choice. He had no idea when he’d get the chance to come back to his childhood home, and he wasn’t a child any longer. He couldn’t hide from things that made him uncomfortable. “It’s all right,” Jason said gently. “Let’s look at them.”

The first one was a retro-style black-and-white photograph of his parents. They sat side by side in profile, looking out from the balcony of their house at the crashing waves below the small, cliff-top colony of Jacksonville. They both looked stern and a little distant, but that was how his parents had always looked in pictures. You had to be with them in person to see the grace of his mother’s movements or really tell that the lines in his father’s face came from smiling. They had been older than most couples when they’d had him, and he’d lost them far sooner than any of them had guessed. He shouldn’t have hidden this picture away.

“My parents.” He handed the film over to Ferran, who took it carefully.

His lover gazed down at the photograph with lively interest. “You look like your father.”

Jason smiled. “Thank you.” He had always admired his father’s way with people, his inner strength, and his calm demeanor. Any comparisons to him were, in Jason’s mind, favorable.

“What was his name?”

“Gary. My mother was Min-suh, but my father called her Minnie.” The next picture was a portrait of his mother, and Jason handed that one over as well. The one behind that was a candid photo of himself and Blake, and that… that wasn’t quite so easy to look at.

Ferran knew instantly. “This is your last lover?”

“Yes.”

“How long were you together?”

“Just for a year.” Which was still the longest romantic relationship Jason had ever had.

Ferran was quiet for a moment. “Does it bother you to look at him?”

“A little.” He didn’t want to lie to Ferran, and he suspected that the Perel would know if he tried to anyway. “But you should know about Blake. At the least, you should know that he existed. He was out of my life for a year by the time you met me.” Jason put that picture and the two behind it back into the tube. “These ones can stay. I’ll take the other two, though.”

Ferran held the pictures of Jason’s parents side by side and admired them for a long moment. “We don’t have anything like this on Perelan. It’s considered disrespectful to make images of our loved ones, because it implies that we can’t hold them in our hearts without help. Remembrance of the past is important, but our historians do not like dwelling on specifics. I’ve only ever painted in the abstract.”

“You’re a painter?”

“It was one of the skills my mother thought important for me to learn.” Ferran handed the pictures back carefully.

Jason took them and set them back on the bed, filing this new information about his husband into the “to be explored” category. Jason didn’t paint, but he had access to courses that Ferran might like, instructional holos, and the means to buy any equipment that Ferran might need. Although right now, there wasn’t time to buy anything, and Jason knew that nothing was shipped to Perelan without express permission from regulators.

Jason reached back into the closet. After a moment of searching, his hands closed on another cylindrical object, and he felt like groaning for a moment. More pictures? But no, this time, what he took out brought a smile to his face as soon as he saw the scabbard. “I thought this was in storage on board the Silver Star.” He partially unsheathed the weapon and looked down at the short, straight blade: still shining, still sharp, just like he’d left it.

Ferran’s eyes went a little wide as he took in the sword. “You use this?”

“Not really,” Jason said, resheathing the sword and turning it over in his hands. The scabbard was painted with a flower pattern and coated with red lacquer, and the metal fittings were embellished with silver so tarnished it was almost black. “Swordsmanship went through something of a renaissance while I was going through military academy. I learned fencing, kendo, and some Indonesian styles. This sword is actually Korean and a lot shorter than the katanas that samurai used.”

“Who are samurai?” Ferran asked.

Jason smiled. “I forget sometimes how few movies you’ve seen. Why didn’t you go to any theaters while you were traveling around the universe?”

“There were other things to do,” Ferran replied, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Many other things. And alien films are one of the few things we’re occasionally granted access to on Perelan.”

“Well, tonight, I’m introducing you to the archetype that is the samurai movie,” Jason said decisively. “Movies and popcorn, that’s the tradition.”

“I like your traditions,” Ferran smiled, wrapping his arms around Jason’s shoulders. “I liked celebrating your birthday.” Jason’s birthday had been three days ago, and they had baked a cake, loaded it down with candles, and spent the rest of the evening celebrating in a more intimate way. The kitchen was a place they both liked to be, and Ferran was an excellent cook—far better than Jason, even after Jason had spent so many years learning it on his own. The white truffle cake was one of the few things Jason could make that Ferran didn’t already know how to improve upon.

“We’ll do the same for you when your birthday rolls around,” Jason promised, but Ferran shook his head.

“My birthday isn’t important,” he said, quietly but with complete assurance. “We never celebrate the birthdays of males on Perelan. Instead, each House celebrates the birthday of their reigning matriarch. It’s a feast day for the entire family. To celebrate my own birth would say to the others in my House that I was putting myself above them and above a sterile male’s station. I don’t mind it.”

Jason was inclined to insist that Ferran’s birthday was important, and they should celebrate it anyway, but he stopped himself. There was a lot he had to learn about Perel culture, and he didn’t want to make any assumptions before he had a chance to really sit down and talk with Ambassador Howards. She’d be able to give him a crash course in Perelan and its people without the risk of Jason offending his new husband.

“What is it?” Ferran asked, curling in even closer. He tended to cuddle when he thought something might be wrong. It wasn’t a habit that Jason felt like breaking, either. He liked the fact that, for the first time in a long time, someone not just wanted, but needed, to be close to him. The intensity of that emotion was something Jason was still adapting to, but the more they were together, the more he grew accustomed to letting himself need his husband back.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” he said after a moment. “Come on. Samurai movie time.”

IN THE end, Jason chose Samurai Fiction, an Old Earth classic and a far less violent example of the genre than some of what he had to pick from. There was plenty of fighting to keep it interesting, and enough discussions of personal honor and the Japanese class system that it would give Ferran a good beginning.

It was definitely violent enough for Ferran. “Is killing really so casual for humans?” he asked a little tentatively at the end of the movie. Jason ran a soothing hand down the feathery, amber-tipped quills that ran the length of Ferran’s spine and over his head. They tended to draw together more sharply when he was upset or confused, and at the moment, they stood nearly on end.

“Not really,” Jason replied. “It’s just a movie. People watching it know it’s just for entertainment.”

“Why is death so entertaining?”

Jason stared at a piece of popcorn that had fallen to the floor and considered the question before answering. “Death is… mysterious. For some people, death is the utter end. For others it’s the beginning of a new way of life. Everyone has a different opinion on death, but the only thing we know for sure is that there’s no definitive account of what happens after you die that everyone can agree on.

“The ability to take another person’s life can be seen as a good thing, depending on who does the dying, or it can be a skill that makes other people consider you a monster. It all depends on what you decide to do with it. And a person who can face the prospect of death with calm and acceptance… it’s captivating, in its way. Admirable.”

Ferran listened to the explanation with his head cocked and disbelief clear in his eyes. “Perels think of any death resulting from violence as shameful—something to be avoided at all costs.” His beautiful, expressive face was somber, and his ears were flared back, a sign of discomfort. “After our civil war, with so many of us dead or wounded, it became clear that we had taken our ability to destroy life too far. It was uncertain for a time whether our species would even survive. All lives are to be treasured, even those which have little to offer their Houses or society at large. Unnatural deaths are very rare, and suicide is one of the worst things a Perel can do. It brings shame on an entire family.”

“Like what happened with your brother?”

Ferran nodded. “It’s one reason that my petition to be trained as a diplomat was taken so seriously, even though I’m only a sterile male. There’s a flaw in my breeding, and the matriarchs thought it was possible that I might kill myself if they denied my petition.” Ferran took in Jason’s expression and hurried to add, “I didn’t lie when I told you before that I wasn’t going to, though. I would never do that. It is the ultimate expression of hopelessness, and I was never without hope.”

“Good,” Jason said firmly, leaning in and capturing Ferran’s lips in a kiss. The Perel seemed to melt against his body, warm and lithe and pliable, and Jason pulled him closer, framing Ferran’s smooth, pale face with his hands and opening up to his lover’s rough, questing tongue and the hungry little purrs that accompanied it. Before they had technically gotten married, Ferran had let Jason do all the driving when it came to their sex life. Now that he felt more secure, Ferran was occasionally reaching for control, taking it and giving it back to Jason as they gently dueled for dominance.

“It’s our last night here,” Jason said around their kiss, barely able to spare the breath to get the words out. “What do you want?”

“You.” It was what Ferran always said, and it was so full of truth and need that Jason couldn’t help but hold him tighter and pull him a little closer.

“In our bed?” he whispered, nuzzling the pulse point beneath Ferran’s jaw before he bit it very lightly. Ferran shivered in his arms.

“Wherever you want me,” Ferran breathed. “Anywhere, any way you want me.”

“The bed, then,” Jason decided, standing up and drawing Ferran up with him. They had already christened every room of the house, including the butterfly pavilion and, during a rare moment of good weather, the balcony. He wanted their last night to be close and comforting as opposed to fast and furious, or in the case of the garage, acrobatic.

They kissed their way back to the bedroom, so absorbed in each other that Jason didn’t remember the photographs he’d left out on the bed. Ferran reached out and moved them to the dresser before they could be crushed, and a moment later, the two of them were lying on the bed pressed against each other.

Perels were physically similar enough to humans that it had never been a challenge for Jason, physically or mentally, to be intimate with Ferran. The challenge had come in being emotionally ready to involve himself with a species of people renowned for their sexual appetite. Jason had learned, though, that there was far more to the Perel than their reputation suggested.

Which wasn’t to say that there was anything wrong with Ferran’s hunger when it was focused on Jason. Ferran twined his slender, strong legs with Jason’s and pulled them tightly against each other, their erections rubbing tantalizingly through the thin cotton pants they both wore. Jason had a shirt on as well, but Ferran was bare-chested, which he always preferred as long as it wasn’t too cold. His skin was so warm….

The urge to strip them out of their clothes and just rut until they came was strong, but Jason wanted more than sex tonight. “Let me touch you,” he said softly, stilling the rhythm of Ferran’s hips with one hand as he caressed the length of his lover’s thigh. Ferran was panting, his chest rising and falling in short bursts, but he nodded his assent.

Jason started at the top, stroking a hand carefully through the quills on his lover’s head, feeling them quiver under his fingers and switch from soft to sharp, soft to sharp. When they were sharp, they were almost edged enough to cut the tender skin of his lips, so Jason left the touching to his toughened hands and worked his fingers through the thin, straight strands. Short and blunter at the edges of Ferran’s face, the longest quills along the top of his head and the nape of his neck were almost six inches in length.

Jason trailed his fingers down a cluster of quills just behind Ferran’s ear, pausing there to gently scratch the tight skin. Ferran purred and turned his head into the touch, the rigid focus of his desire relaxing somewhat as he pursued the comfort Jason was offering. Ferran’s ears slanted back against his head, crinkle-edged and each tufted with a wisp of amber hair. They were adorable and incredibly touchable, but Jason knew Ferran was sensitive about the things that spoke most loudly to the differences between them, and those differences sometimes made him self-conscious.

For a moment, Jason wondered exactly how much his new husband was working to be sensitive to human culture—perhaps to things that even Jason wasn’t noticing—but then Ferran mewled needily and nuzzled against Jason’s throat, redirecting his attention.

Jason kissed Ferran’s closed eyelids, so thin they were almost transparent, their lashes long and dark. He kissed his pointed nose and the tip of his sharp chin before losing himself again in Ferran’s mouth. God, his lover could kiss. His tongue may be longer and rougher than a human’s, but Jason never came away from Ferran’s touch feeling raw. Jason’s tongue delved into Ferran’s mouth in turn, cautious over canines that were marginally longer and sharper than a human’s. One hand cupped Ferran’s neck, fingers burrowing into the quills there, while the other kept moving against Ferran’s side, brushing over the edge of his abdomen before skirting back to less sensitive territory.

They broke apart long enough for Ferran to murmur, “Jason.” His voice was dark and throaty, almost a growl.

“Let me,” Jason said, trying to stay on track with what he had in mind. He needed to ground himself in Ferran tonight, touch every bit of him, and feel the reality of him. Everything else in his life was about to change. Ferran had to be familiar; he had to become the basis of Jason’s sense of home now.

Ferran whined faintly but acquiesced, and Jason continued his steady march down his lover’s body, kissing and licking at his throat, tormenting each set of nipples as he worked his way down Ferran’s chest. The skin was slightly darker around those, a flush of pink against unrelenting paleness. Even the tender skin of Ferran’s stomach was thicker than a human’s, more resistant to scratches and tears. The only places his skin truly softened were over his eyes and….

Jason undid the tie on Ferran’s pants and pulled them down and away, leaving him nude. The head of his erection was bright red and flowing with milky fluid. It glistened against the length of his cock and pooled at the base with no hair to get caught in. Jason liked being able to see every part of his lover. He licked the head once gently, just enough to get a taste before moving down the bed.

Ferran whined again, louder this time, but he didn’t reach for himself or try to redirect Jason back to his cock. He pulled his knees back and shuddered when Jason kissed the insides of his thighs and stroked down over the taut muscles of his calves. Ferran’s toes were exceptionally long when compared to a human’s, and his feet had high, curving arches. His toenails were black and thick, protective, and Jason spared a moment to kiss the biggest nail on each foot before he finally began to slide back up Ferran’s body.

God, Ferran was leaking so much it almost looked like he was coming in slow motion. Perels, Jason had learned, produced a lot more seminal fluid than humans did, and the two of them made good use of it now. Jason ran his fingers through the liquid that had collected against Ferran’s balls, which were drawn hard and tight against his body, and then ran them back underneath his lover until his slick fingers probed Ferran’s entrance. Ferran relaxed immediately, welcoming the press, and the rich fluid acted as a perfect lubricant. Gathering a little more, Jason pushed his fingers back inside as he lowered his mouth onto Ferran’s cock.

Ferran came quickly, keening, the build-up too much for him to resist. Hot sperm filled Jason’s mouth to overflowing, and he swallowed quickly. It tasted bitterer than a human man’s, musky and thick, but Jason swallowed again and again, addicted to the flavor. When it was clear there would be no more, Jason gently let go of Ferran’s swollen, sensitized organ and moved to pull his fingers out.

“No,” Ferran pleaded, clenching him tight. “Be in me.”

“I will,” Jason promised. “Give me a moment, and I will.” As soon as Ferran nodded and relaxed, Jason sat back, pulling off his shirt and pants more hastily than usual and throwing them to the floor. A moment later, he was pressed against Ferran again, their bodies perfectly matched; and then Ferran drew his legs back and rolled his hips, and suddenly it was impossible not to slide into him.

Hot, so hot, so slicktightperfect… and God, Jason was going to come in a second if he didn’t control himself. He leaned back on his arms a little bit, putting some distance between himself and Ferran. It didn’t help. The low lights made his lover’s eyes look like they were glowing, and Ferran’s hands were everywhere, stroking down his chest and over his shoulders and urging him on. After a moment, he gave in to the urge, pulling back and then stroking in with more and more force until he was gasping for breath, his whole body was burning with tension, and he knew that he was on the cusp of exploding—all it would take was a look, a word, a movement….

“Jason.” One word, one look he couldn’t decipher when there was so much to see in those eyes, and then Jason flew apart, burying himself in Ferran as he came so hard that his vision dimmed and his hearing went fuzzy. Everything seemed to be quivering, from his hair to his toes, and it took all that he had not to black out and collapse on his lover.

Ferran knew, of course. His ability to feel them grew stronger the more intimate they became. He held Jason close, cradling him against his body but not suffocating him, giving him the space he needed to catch his breath.

It took minutes, and every minute was a gift, every second a blessing. He breathed out, and Ferran basked in his exhalations, purring with pleasure.

It was frightening how much Jason craved the closeness he had with Ferran and the understanding of how much they needed each other. The love hadn’t been nearly as hard for Jason to reconcile as the growing understanding that he was becoming genuinely dependent on someone else for the first time since he was a child. Jason had been part of a team. He’d been in relationships, but those had paled in comparison to what was happening to him now, and he was both glad of and anxious about that.

Eventually, Jason came back to himself enough to get up. He went into the bathroom and wet a clean washcloth, coming back to find Ferran curled on his side, his huge eyes at half-mast, gazing in Jason’s direction.

“I am also nervous,” Ferran said.

The sudden confession took Jason by surprise, and he raised an eyebrow as he scooted close enough to wipe his lover clean. “Why are you nervous?”

“I want you to be happy on Perelan.”

“I will be happy,” Jason promised. “I’ll be with you.”

“Yes,” Ferran said, but that was all he said, and Jason was learning to hear his new husband’s silences as well as he did his words.

“I said forever,” Jason told him, smoothing a palm over damp skin. “I meant it. I don’t expect it will all be easy, but we’ll learn how to deal with that.”

“I believe you.”

“As well you should,” Jason said, trying to lighten the mood a little. “Or didn’t you know that I’m always right about these sorts of things?”

“That’s not what Florence told me,” Ferran countered. She had been keeping in touch with both of them, sending brief text messages to their communicators almost daily, perhaps in an effort to make up for the fact that once they reached Perelan, they’d be cut off. No outside communications of any kind would be allowed unless they related to a family emergency, and Jason didn’t have any family left.

It was a shame, because Florence was a lot of fun to talk to, a good listener, and an immovable pillar of support. She managed to make them laugh more often than not, very frequently resorting to ancient idioms that Jason had to explain to Ferran or jovial commentary on what she considered Jason’s many amusing traits. Her last text to Ferran had read, Suggest installing a low-intensity shock button to use when you go out on the town with him. Wished for one many times myself. Might prompt him to be more outgoing.

“Flo is biased against me, you know that. She thinks I have no social skills.”

“She’s wrong about that,” Ferran agreed with a smile. “You’re very sociable with me.”

“You see? You can’t listen to her.” Jason leaned in and kissed Ferran, letting his lover’s insistent hands keep him close instead of getting up to clean the clothes from the floor like he’d intended. Jason was well and truly exhausted, and it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, his lover’s arms curled possessively around his shoulders.

JASON WOKE up in a cold sweat sometime before dawn, his breathing fast and his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might beat out of his chest. The nightmare that had woken him was dissipating, leeching from his brain like an evaporating mist but leaving behind a dark, sticky residue. The urge to scream, caught by his tight jaw and clenched teeth, slowly receded.

It left Jason exhausted but absolutely unable to get back to sleep. He glanced over at Ferran, still curled close to him and still asleep. Well, that was a mercy. He didn’t want to explain to his lover what was going on with him.

Not that he knew himself, exactly.

Moving slowly, he eased out of the circle of Ferran’s arms and off the bed, grabbed a robe from the back of his bathroom door and slung it on, and then walked quietly into the living room. He stood at the door that led to his balcony and stared out into the darkness, just barely able to see the violent crashing of the waves far below. Lightning cracked through the sky, streaks of silver and gold in dark indigo clouds. Beautiful. Frightening. Sort of like what was happening here.

In his most ruthlessly practical moments when he was alone, Jason contemplated what he’d gotten himself into with a certain amount of grim resignation. He was going to be the first human being given intimate access to an alien world humans didn’t honestly know very much about. He was going there married to a high-ranking member of that society, from what Jason understood, but also a relatively powerless one. Infertile males were used as bargaining chips by their mothers, traded to other families to be caretakers and homemakers.

Ferran was the first ever to be allowed to pursue a different path, and Jason knew nothing about the labyrinths of political machinations that had to be driving that decision, much less how he fit into the grand scheme of things. There was no doubt in his mind, though, that his presence among the Perels was entirely calculated.

Jason didn’t doubt that Ferran loved him. His new husband was as innocent a creature as Jason had ever seen in some ways, barely old enough to be considered an adult by his own people. The depth of deceit it would take to fool Jason into falling for him was beyond Ferran—not to mention that, had snaring a human partner been premeditated, Ferran could have done a hell of a lot better. There was no lack of infatuated humans waiting for the first hint of something more with an attractive Perel to catapult them into love. Ferran could have gone for someone with more money, more power, or more connections.

Instead, he’d fallen in love with Jason—who was a loner and always had been—and he had risked a great deal to be with him.

There was still a lot to work out about their union: how they would need to conduct themselves on the planet, how Jason’s actions would reflect on Ferran, even what Ferran’s duties within his own House would be now that he was no longer a viable bargaining chip. All his worth—all his beauty, gentility, and intelligence—had been spent on catching Jason, and Jason wasn’t at all sure he was going to prove a worthwhile investment.

He hadn’t had a nightmare for a long time. As a child they were night terrors, leaving him upright in his bed and screaming, unable to see or hear as his mother tried to calm him. His parents had refused medications and therapy, his father instead opting to teach Jason meditation and other methods of self-control. They had eventually worked, and he’d become very adept over the years at blocking or burying the things that made him uncomfortable. Only occasionally was it so bad that those things manifested as nightmares.

Uncertainty, doubts of his own self-worth, fear of leaving the simplicity and structure of everything he knew for the mystery that was Perelan…. Jason had a lot to be afraid of. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply, letting the air circulate through the lowest parts of his lungs before emerging as a faint hiss through his teeth. He needed to handle this.

And he had to do it privately, because the last thing his new husband needed at the moment was insecurity from Jason. Ferran was going to be dealing with a lot once they got back to Perelan. Jason couldn’t add to that stress. Silently, he promised himself he’d take up daily meditation again; he’d work kata and other exercises that were comfortingly habitual, physical movements that would ground and occupy him. He could handle this on his own. He would have to.

Jason opened his eyes again and sighed. The very edge of the horizon was limned with violet, signaling the beginning of dawn. Ambassador Howards would arrive in less than three hours to take them away in her ship. Jason glanced around his house, his gaze lingering on the hardwood floors and handmade cabinets, the simple, comfortable furnishings and soothing earth tones. There was a neat stack of containers by the door that held everything he was taking with him to Perelan. Well, almost everything.

Jason turned and headed back into the bedroom. If he couldn’t sleep, at least he could finish packing.

Chapter Two

JASON STOOD in the middle of the living room, slowly moving his gaze from one side of the house to the other. The rooms were all dark and the heat set to the bare minimum needed to keep things from freezing.

The Jacksonville colony had a professional caretaker stationed at the control tower because there weren’t many families who lived here full-time these days, and those who didn’t needed someone to help maintain their properties. He had agreed to add Jason’s house to the list, to check in on it and do basic maintenance, for as long as Jason needed. “And let me know if you ever want to sell,” he’d added at their last meeting. “Your place is on the best lot in this whole colony.” His parents had built their home when Jacksonville was a backwater, but interplanetary shipping routes were changing that. Jason wished his parents were still around to see all the changes that had happened here, and were still happening to him.

The air already smelled different, although a faint scent of popcorn lingered in the kitchen and by the couch. Soon the air would turn stale, the way Jason found it when he came back after long deployments. He didn’t know what scent came after stale in a place that used to be a home. Maybe the abandoned air would take on a sepulchral tinge, or maybe it would start to smell like nothing. Like no one.

Ferran’s fingers wound through his, and a moment later, warm lips pressed a kiss to the back of Jason’s neck. “I hope we can come back.”

Jason nodded once before turning around and walking out of the house. Over, done with, his choice and no time for regrets. He had a new life careening toward him, and he had to meet it head-on.

The ambassador’s Federation ship was a ten-person cruiser, as luxurious as a relatively small ship could be, with as many of the amenities of home as the designers could squeeze into it. It barely fit onto the landing pad inside of Jason’s family compound, but it had a good pilot and a highly efficient crew, and in less than ten minutes, the pile of containers by the door was gone, the house was secured, and Giselle Howards was politely prodding Ferran and Jason to get a move on. “Welcome aboard, gentlemen,” she said as they stepped onto the cruiser. Ambassador Howards seemed to favor bright colors, and today she wore a lavender suit with a short cobalt cape that fell in artful waves over her shoulders.

The ship’s door slid smoothly shut behind them, the green light at its apex lighting up when the seal was secure. Giselle proceeded to growl something at Ferran, forcing her voice into an unnaturally guttural range. Ferran grinned, and a laugh escaped his lips before he replied, the sounds coming much faster from his own throat.

“That’s nice of you to say, but I know my accent is still terrible,” Giselle replied with a smile. “You both probably want to get settled into your suite, but I wanted to take a moment to make introductions and talk a bit.” She gestured toward the conference room behind her, where four chairs were set around a white marble table. Jason and Ferran sat down and looked over at Giselle, who sat across from them and folded her hands seriously.

“I want to make a few things clear from the beginning, to help avoid misunderstandings that we really can’t afford once we reach Perelan. These things are important, so pay attention and ask questions if you have any at all. In the situation we’re heading toward, it’s far better to be overprepared.

“First there’s the issue of language.” She looked squarely at Jason now. “It isn’t terribly difficult for a Perel to reproduce human sounds, and as a result, they’re far better equipped to speak our common language than we are theirs. You’ll be expected to learn a few phrases quickly for the sake of showing willingness, but no one expects perfect fluency in spoken Perel from you. You’d have to do terrible things to your vocal cords to make it possible. Learning to distinguish what Perels are saying, however, is a priority. You need to be aware of your surroundings, and that includes having a fundamental understanding of the language. We’ll equip you with a translation implant to assist you. It isn’t perfect, but the majority of Perels you’ll be interacting with in the beginning will speak our common Federation language.

“Which reminds me.” She pointed one long, perfectly manicured finger at Jason. “Don’t ever assume that anything you say aloud in a public, semipublic, or even should-be-private place is going unheard, because there are going to be people watching every move you make and listening to everything you say. You two should have privacy within the House of Grenn, but I can’t promise anything else.”

“Grenn is my mother,” Ferran interrupted softly, explaining for Jason’s sake. “We have a home in the capitol, Berenze, where most of our family lives.”

“Grenn is a powerhouse on the Council of Matriarchs, and every member of her family, including Ferran—and now you—will always garner plenty of attention. Wanted or not,” Giselle continued. “Which brings me to another point. I have a certain status on Perelan because of my position and my gender. Your status has yet to be determined, but we can increase it right from the start by allying you to me. If I adopt you, then technically, you become a member of my House. And while I’m not on the Council by any means, I am always shown the respect a matriarch is due. This might help protect you against those who would take advantage of the uncertain state of affairs.”

Jason was taken aback. He was used to blunt statements from Giselle, but this was rapid-fire even for her. “You think it’s a good idea to adopt me?”

“I think it will certainly make integration easier for both you and Ferran, and legally it’s quite simple, since you’re not a minor and have no living family. However, I won’t force the decision on you.”

Jason watched as Giselle touched the table and brought up the image of a document. “This is the paperwork. I’d like you to take a closer look at it when you have the chance. All it does is make you my legal heir under Perel law and acknowledge that if things go terribly wrong or a situation arises that looks to become dangerous, I have the right to make certain decisions for you.”

“Such as?”

“Ensuring your sentient rights as a dual citizen of both Perelan and the Federation. Extracting you from a hostile situation, if everything really goes to hell. Emergency medical care. Naturally, I expect you to make Ferran your first point of contact if something goes wrong, but under special circumstances where he might not be available, I want you brought to me. Similarly, if I’m incapacitated for any reason, some of my power will transfer to you.”

“Your staff won’t care for that.”

“My staff has been briefed on the particulars and the peculiarities of this situation. They understand your competence, and you’ll be getting to know them very well before long. I was going to introduce you to them next, but I think—” Giselle rested her chin on one elegant hand and regarded him for a moment. “I think you need some time to process everything. I don’t need an answer about the adoption until we reach Perelan, so don’t feel rushed.

“I’ll have Penelope show you to your suite in a moment, but I wanted to mention this first.” She gestured at the crisp uniform Jason wore. “You’re no longer a ship’s captain, neither militarily nor commercially. Your status revolves around the House of Grenn now, and as a part of that, you need to dress to represent it. In your suite you’ll find clothing tailor-made for you that will help to indicate your status as a high-ranking spouse—things I’ve been assured by the Council of Matriarchs that you have a right to wear—all marked with the insignia of the House of Grenn. If you choose to be adopted by me, my insignia will be added to the opposite shoulder.”

This was definitely coming a little fast. “You have insignia?”

Giselle nodded. “Oh yes. It was one of the first things I had to design when I arrived on Perelan twenty years ago. I was so green then.” She smiled. “Far greener than you. Due to the peculiarities of the culture, Perelan is one of the few diplomatic postings in the Federation that allows an ambassador to be positioned there for the life of her career as long as she doesn’t egregiously screw things up. I may be there for another twenty years, or forty, or more depending on the state of affairs. Perels live almost as long as a human on Regen, so my relationships, both personal and professional, have to be carefully cultivated. You’ll have more freedom in whom you choose to associate with, but take the long view, Jason. We are speaking about the rest of your life, after all.”

Jason felt a little numb, but given the circumstances, that was probably a good thing. “Is there anything else I need to know right now?”

“One other thing. On Perelan, the husbands of matriarchs are publically referred to as consorts. Unmarried males are sons. There are very few other titles available to male Perels, but at least to begin with, in Perel society you will be introduced as a consort and Ferran will continue as a son. Technically, it could be the other way around if you agree to the adoption, I suppose, but there’s time for quibbling about it later. Consort is a respectable title, but those who develop skills beyond their traditional roles can be given courtesy titles to reflect their expertise. This might happen to you, it might not, but either way, it isn’t something you should feel pressured to achieve.”

“I see,” Jason said, striving to keep the stiffness spreading through his shoulders out of his voice.

“I’m sure you do,” Giselle agreed. “Any burning questions for me right now, or would you like to get things settled in your suite? We’ll be en route for twelve standard days, so you should arrange things to your satisfaction.”

“Nothing from me,” Jason said.

Ferran hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Has my mother mentioned anything about the rhezan?”

“She told me she would wait until speaking to you to make a final decision, but her preference is to do the ceremony, and preferably in a public forum.”

“Oh.” That was not a happy oh to Jason’s ears.

“I’m sure she’ll give you both time to get used to the idea. Now, your suite is at the back of the ship. I know Jason could find it without an escort, but I have to give my chief of staff something to do, or she’ll start making me catch up on my paperwork.” Giselle tapped a button on the table, and a moment later, a fourth person joined them. “This is Penelope Fields.”

Penelope was as androgynous a person as Jason had ever seen. She was perhaps Ferran’s height, dressed in a white suit that managed to diminish any curves while maintaining a nice line, which was hard for even the best tailor to do. Her hair was fine, blonde, and floated like an aura around her head. Her skin was the color of caramel, a warm golden brown, and her face as perfectly expressionless as a doll’s. She extended a hand toward the door.

“Gentlemen,” she said, her voice a dispassionate tenor. “If you’d come with me, please.”

They rose and followed Penelope out of the conference room and down the hall. The floor was a slightly malleable mesh that conformed to their feet, leaving a pattern of footprints behind them. Ferran smiled a little as they walked along it.

“It’s a little like the feeling of home,” he explained when Jason looked over at him. “A soft, giving surface. Our buildings are closely integrated with the natural world, and most of us use mosses, modified for cleanliness and longevity, to cover our floors.”

Mosses. Jason honestly hadn’t given much thought to Perel architecture. He knew their culture was advanced enough to have the capacity for biochemical weapons and genetic modification, but they hadn’t been a spacefaring species before their first contact with an alien race, which had actually been the Dorn, not humans. Jason knew they were nocturnal, and their genetics pointed to a species that had started off as subterranean and had gradually adapted to living aboveground. He knew there was one continent on their planet, and they were the most advanced species living there. He knew most of the Perels lived in the capital city of Berenze, because there were so few of them now, despite the genetic manipulation and breeding programs. Other than that—all of the information that Ferran had shared during the last week they’d spent together—Jason didn’t know anything.

I should have asked more questions. He’d certainly feel better prepared now if he had. But questions hadn’t been the most pressing thing on his mind after he and Ferran had been reunited. It had been more important to make sure the emotional bond was there, was real. Facts could wait—feelings couldn’t. If that meant Jason was veering slightly off-balance now, then he just had to roll with it and do his best to get back on track.

They stopped outside of a broad pair of metallic sliding doors. Penelope tapped a code into the keypad and then gestured toward the scanner. “Press your index finger here.” Jason went first, letting the machine record his fingerprint and DNA. After another few taps, she looked at Ferran, who repeated the process. “It’s now coded to both of you. If you have any problems with the scanner please let me know.” She turned and strode back down the hall, with no sway of slender hips to soften her march.

“She feels very odd,” Ferran said softly. Jason glanced curiously at him. “Her emotions,” he clarified. “They’re unlike any human’s I’ve ever sensed before.”

“Strange.” And something that Ferran clearly wanted to talk about, but Jason figured it could at least wait until they got into their rooms.

He let the scanner read his touch, and the doors slid open, revealing a pleasant space. His boxes were stacked in a neat row along the wall of the sitting area, opposite the entertainment center. A minikitchen was inset in the wall, a palatial bathroom took up a full third of the suite, and the bedroom was such a bright shade of white that it practically glowed. Jason found the color and temperature control on the wall and muted the shade to a more bearable blaze.

Jason opened a wall closet and looked inside. An entire rack of clothing hung there. It looked soft and comfortable, similar to what he wore when he was alone in his house, but cut more finely, a little like an ancient oriental costume. They were darker colors as well: greens, reds, and browns. No Federation blue and black that he’d worn for most of his life and no undyed white cotton like he’d grown up in. The fabric felt like silk and glistened faintly. The collar of each tunic or shirt was embroidered with a thin gold line, and a spiral line, descending to a point like a thorn, was sewn on the right shoulder of each.

“The symbol of the House of Grenn,” Ferran explained. “It represents the taproot of a great tree.”

“It looks a little foreboding,” Jason said.

“It is meant to. Despite our small numbers, my family’s influence runs deep.”

“How much family do you have?”

Ferran sat down on the bed and folded his legs up. “There is only myself and my mother in the immediate family. My brother was the only other pup to survive to adulthood, and you know what happened to him.”

“No sisters?”

“None. Our family has never been very successful at reproduction, despite the best genetic therapy available to us. I do have several female cousins, but they were born to fertile males who were married out of our House, and so belong to their mothers’ Houses. I have numerous uncles and a very large extended family.” His lips quirked into a smile. “Which includes Neyarr and Garrell, of course.”

“Right.”

“Are the clothes all right?” Ferran asked, a little anxiously. “They’re not as close-fitting as what most males on Perelan wear, but you seem to like something less restrictive.”

“Did you know about these?”

“Ambassador Howards asked me several questions about your preferences before you agreed to be my spouse. I didn’t know that she was going to use that information immediately.” Huge amber eyes blinked uncertainly. “Do the clothes upset you?”

“No.” It was true. Jason wasn’t upset by the clothes; he wasn’t really upset at all. He was just… off-balance. Disquieted. Not in control of his environment. It was a state he didn’t relish, but figured he needed to learn to deal with, fast. He sat down next to Ferran, who immediately closed the distance so that their sides were touching. “They’re just a new sort of uniform that I need to get used to.”

“When we’re alone, you can wear whatever you want.”

“When will we be alone?” Jason asked, trying to be gentle. “Won’t we be living with your family?”

“We will have our own den within the larger house. It will be like living on the Silver Star again, except with different tasks facing us. It will be all right,” Ferran said, and there was a note of pleading in his voice.

Jason wrapped his arms around Ferran’s waist and pulled him into an embrace. “I believe you.” Belief was his shield now, his iron skin. Belief was crucial. “I believe you.”

Chapter Three

THE NEXT twelve days were a blur of fast-paced education. There were sessions on cultural anthropology, history, anatomy, etiquette, and law—and those were just the ones scheduled daily. Giselle filled every spare minute with special seminars, enlisting Ferran as her assistant and motivational speaker when Jason was so tired he could barely see, much less listen. A nap, or even fifteen minutes to meditate, would have helped, but the time couldn’t be spared.

The cultural and legal lectures were all given by Giselle herself. She was widely regarded as successful in her position, and she could give Jason human insights into a culture that had quite a bit in common with humanity, but which was profoundly alien in other ways. Over several days, she painted a vivid picture of a culture that was functional, complex, and very xenophobic, given how long they had been communicating with aliens before allowing any sort of regular negotiation or trading to take place. It was fortunate for Perelan, Jason reflected, that it had been overlooked by spacefaring aliens for most of its existence, because it didn’t seem to be equipped to handle war on a large scale, at least not at this point in its evolution.

Ferran only sat in on some of the cultural lectures. The rest of the time, he was being drilled on the beginnings of what awaited him once he entered diplomatic training. In an atmosphere that rarely allowed for privacy or intimacy, they both felt the strain, but Ferran more particularly.

“He’ll have to learn to deal with it,” Giselle said bluntly a week out from the Jacksonville colony. “He’s going from being the cosseted, sole surviving son of a matriarch to a working and productive member of his society. All pups are spoiled on Perelan, but his mother had the means to see to it that Ferran wanted for nothing. I think you might have been the first thing in his life that he was told he couldn’t have, and then, in the end, he got you after all.”

“Ferran’s not lazy,” Jason argued.

“No, he’s certainly not. Ferran has had to fill many roles for his family, from cooking to comfort to assisting his mother with affairs of state. The things that make him ill-prepared for tedious work like this are the same things that will make him an excellent diplomat, once he learns to apply himself for himself, without worrying about who he has to please next. His job will be furthering the good relations of his people in the larger universe. And who could be better at that than such a charming young person?” Giselle smiled brightly at Jason.

“And speaking of charms, have you thought about what new skill you’re going to teach to the Perel? Grenn understands and supports you and Ferran wanting to be together because you love each other, but the rest of the Council is going to want more from you than your mere presence. You’re going to have to be ready to show them something. Preferably several somethings. Preferably things that are new to Perelan. What can you do that would fit the bill?”

Jason raised one eyebrow. “I hope you’re not expecting too much.”

“Well, I know you can’t do ballet.” Giselle smiled as Jason couldn’t quite hide his exasperation. “Perhaps low-grav acrobatics? Aerial contortion?”

“I’m not that flexible, sorry.”

“What about the softer arts?” Giselle motioned toward the landscape painting on one of the walls in the stateroom. “Can you paint? Maybe play an instrument?”

“No to both.”

“Sing?”

“No, Giselle.”

“You’re not making this easy, Jason.” Giselle tapped one painted nail on the tabletop impatiently. “Well, what can you do?”

“I was put into a military school almost as soon as I could walk,” Jason said. “I’m a warrior, and those are the sorts of things I’ve learned. Piloting a ship, battle strategy, hand-to-hand combat, several different types of fencing, classic hapkido—things that are useful in war or in training warriors. This is what I can do.” He refused to apologize for his abilities, the things that he had spent decades training and sweating and bleeding for.

“The martial arts might work,” Giselle mused. “There might be an avenue there, if they’re taught as a moving meditation or a form of exercise. The Council won’t approve instruction in anything that’s outright combat-oriented. That kind of knowledge is restricted to a very special subculture on Perelan.”

“What subculture?” Jason asked.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss it, and honestly, I don’t know very much. It’s considered very private for the Perel. Perhaps Ferran will tell you more.”

But Jason didn’t see Ferran until very late that night, and by the next morning it had slipped his mind. He and Giselle had worked something out anyway.

Giselle’s personal physician, Dori Anders, taught anatomy and biology. Dori was so ancient that he actually looked old, despite Regen treatments. He had storm-cloud gray hair and eyes to match it, he hunched awkwardly through the shoulders and neck, and he was possibly the friendliest person on the ship. He spoke with a broad accent Jason knew came from somewhere on the Fringe, and his smiling face was creased with so many lines it looked like a topographical map.

“Anatomically, in many ways, they’re the same as us, but structurally, there are a few notable differences.” Every vowel sounded like he was adding an h to the beginning of it, making him seem slightly out of breath.

Jason tried to refocus his thoughts on what Dori was saying and not how he was saying it. “The quills.”

“The quills are one,” Dori agreed. “Originally probably defensive, they grew into more of a decorative role over time. Nowadays their original use is almost lost, although with the right hormone combination flowing through a Perel’s system, quills can be temporarily hardened into stiff shafts. They function like flexible knives in that state, and can be broken off to use offensively.”

“What kind of combination does that?”

“Oh, variations on anger or fear. Lust, under some circumstances, but I doubt you’re in trouble on any of those accounts, boy. I’ve followed the paths of generations of Perel youths letting themselves go abroad, and only two of their bed partners ever experienced wounds, according to reports. By all accounts, they deserved everything they got too.”

Jason nodded once. “Good. What else?”

Dori pulled up an image of a Perel’s head, each new layer of tissue meticulously separated and labeled. “They used to be strictly nocturnal—didn’t start changing that until recently, and you’re still going to have to adapt to a life lived primarily during the dark hours. The skin over their eyes is the thinnest anywhere on their body. Everywhere else, it’s substantially thicker: two to three times the density of yours and mine. If they were living in caves or forests like they used to, their skin would be so rough to the touch that it would rub you raw in places. You see it more with the matriarchs than the males, probably due to the stress of childbearing.”

“What else?”

“Medically speaking, everything we know about Perels would fit in the palm of my hand.” Dori sighed. “Very closed-off people, very tetchy about their medical issues. I’ve been offering for over a dozen years to take a look into the whole fertility issue, but apparently, allowing anyone foreign to run tests on them is so forbidden I was almost locked up for even suggesting it. It took some fast talking by Giselle to keep me from spending time in a penitent’s cage.”

“A penitent’s cage?” Jason repeated, his brow furrowing just a little bit. “What’s that?”

“The nicer type of punishment available to a Perel,” Dori said. “Kind of like the stocks in some of the central Federation planets. A method of public shaming that’s uncomfortable but not dangerous.”

Not dangerous as long as the people around you left you alone and didn’t take advantage of your vulnerability. In Jason’s experience, that didn’t usually happen. He pushed the memories away and refocused on the conversation. “And the other type of punishment?”

“Getting dropped in the middle of the jungle and told to find their way back.” Dori snorted and shook his head. “But you have to have done something pretty awful to warrant that. Some of them make it back to the city. Most die. There’s evidence that a few started their own little colony out in the wilderness, but no one really pays much attention to that.”

Abandoning someone in the middle of a jungle seemed like a pretty harsh sentence to Jason, especially if you basically expected the trip back to kill them. He didn’t want to get into his views on crime and punishment with Dori, who was looking at him expectantly, so in the end, the only thing Jason said was, “Interesting.”

“Quite. Now, let me tell you about their muscular development.”

The lecture that followed wasn’t nearly so interesting.

Penelope acted as Giselle’s second-in-command. She took one of them, generally Jason, when Giselle wanted them to get different lectures on the same subject. She didn’t seem to outwardly emote much at all, not even when she was dealing with Giselle. Maybe it was because she expected to deal with empaths all day, and letting her emotions show would compromise her status. Maybe it was the result of a trauma, or just the standard wherever she had been born and raised. Jason wondered about it, but he had no intention of asking. People deserved their privacy, and he wouldn’t have felt comfortable bringing it up.

That didn’t stop him from broaching the subject with Ferran while they lay together in their bed. It had been a long, especially exhausting day, and it felt good just to hold each other without the looming specter of being broken apart for classes. “What do you get from Penelope?” Jason murmured into Ferran’s ear, stroking one hand along his lover’s arm.

“Not much,” Ferran confessed. “It’s very strange. It’s as though there’s only the memory of emotion inside of her, not the emotion itself. She lives and walks and breathes and thinks, but she doesn’t feel things. The nearest sense of anything I get from her is a sort of wistfulness.”

“Wistfulness? What about?”

“I can’t be that specific,” Ferran said. He looked sad, a little distant. “I wish I could, but honestly, I don’t like to feel too deeply toward her. It makes me sad.”

“Don’t be sad,” Jason whispered, and then pressed small kisses to Ferran’s cheek, down to the point of his chin. Ferran dipped his head to lean into Jason’s next kiss, framing Jason’s face in his hands. Hands that were three times stronger than a human’s hands, attached to arms that would make the most seasoned human climber positively explosive with jealousy. He had never overtly displayed any of this strength to Jason, never manhandling him, never forcing him, and certainly never even coming close to hurting him during sex. Considering that Ferran was not only stronger, he was also capable of slicing Jason to ribbons if the wrong hormonal cocktail got into his blood, Jason felt pleased that he could still touch Ferran without hesitation.

“I would never hurt you,” Ferran said as he pulled away, the expression in his eyes wounded and his face tired and vulnerable. “Never.”

Well, perhaps Jason had hesitated a little. “I know that,” he assured his husband, kissing his mouth lingeringly. “I do know that.”

“Show me.”

“I will.” He kissed him again. “I am.” They were both nude, fresh from the shower, and Jason pressed their bodies close for a long moment before saying, “Turn over.”

Ferran reluctantly let go of Jason’s shoulders and rolled over onto his stomach, arching sensuously against the bed. Jason knelt between his legs, spreading them wide but not touching Ferran there. Instead, he placed his palms against the back of Ferran’s head and slowly stroked down the length of his spine, working his fingers into the feathery quills and scratching, activating a reflex that Jason knew would harden them slightly. His hands slid smoothly through the mass, all the way down Ferran’s back until the trail of them ended at the very base of his spine. Jason freed his hands, watching the quills soften to feathers again, and then repeated the process. It was meditative in a way, perhaps more soothing for himself than the recipient. With Ferran, there was always permission to touch—any part of him, however Jason wanted to.

Ferran was purring in moments, becoming more and more relaxed with every pass. Jason expanded his range, gliding over skin and muscle, digging in with his thumbs when he felt a knot and christening each spot with a kiss once he was done with it. It took a while to ensure that his lover was completely relaxed; Ferran had been carrying around more tension lately than Jason was used to seeing in him. Finally, Jason caressed his husband’s shoulders before he made his way down to Ferran’s hips and gently nudged them up. It left Ferran pressed back against Jason’s cock, which was so hard he ached with the tension. “Ferran….”

“Heeere….” Lax, fumbling fingers passed a small container back to him, and Jason opened it, slicked himself, and drew Ferran back until they slowly slid together. Ferran was loose enough from frequent sex and the massage that he was able to take Jason without being stretched first, but it was still a gradual process that ended with the two of them upright, Jason sitting back on his heels and Ferran sitting against him. Jason took advantage of the lull to touch Ferran’s chest, his fingers exploring and teasing, descending boldly, and finally wrapping around Ferran’s cock.

“Jason.” Ferran rose and fell erratically, moving into the hand that gripped him one moment and back against the cock impaling him the next. He felt so good on Jason, tight and close and safe, but it wasn’t enough; and after a few minutes, Jason had to push Ferran forward and lower them both back to the bed. He ended up plastered to his husband’s back. Jason felt every ridge, every trembling quill and eager muscle shaking with Ferran’s need.

Jason thrust deeper and harder into his lover, closing his eyes and letting himself go, giving up worry and care for the sheer pleasure that was being with, over, and in Ferran. One hand was still folded around Ferran’s cock, just there for him to thrust into, and Ferran snapped his hips forward in perfect harmony with Jason’s movements. The two of them came simultaneously, almost as though it were planned—and perhaps Ferran had planned it that way. Jason certainly hadn’t. It had been too long since he and Ferran had had a moment for real passion, a chance to take pleasure in one another that wasn’t rushed, furtive, or primarily for comfort.

Jason rolled both of them onto their sides, but kept himself lodged firmly inside of his husband. “I know you’d never hurt me,” he said once he caught his breath. “I really do know that.”

“Good.” It was Ferran’s turn to let his hands wander, and he did, stroking the arms that encircled him and holding Jason close enough to keep their intimate connection.

Right now, with both of them relaxed and content, was a good time to bring up a question he’d had since Ferran had first mentioned it. “Ferran, what’s the rhezan? You asked Giselle about it the first day we came on board, and she said something about a public ceremony.”

Ferran stiffened a little, but he didn’t pull away. After a moment, he spoke. “It is a ritual that celebrates our marriages. The ceremony does not necessarily have to be public, but a demonstration of devotion before the rest of the community is usually seen as a good sign—a symbol of the strength of the union and the dedication the participants have towards each other. Private ceremonies are very rare and not usually well-regarded, although there are exceptions.”

Jason considered that for a moment. “Would having a public ceremony somehow dismiss the fact that I signed a contract with you for only a year?”

Ferran was absolutely still in his arms, but his voice was steady. “It would complicate things, but my mother doesn’t mind complications, if it means getting her way.”

“I already told you that I never intend to give you up, and I mean that,” Jason said, kissing the tip of one of Ferran’s ears. “I just don’t want to play games that I don’t know the rules to.”

Ferran slowly slid forward, freeing himself from Jason’s cock with a soft whimper before turning and wrapping his arms around Jason. The air was thick with the scent of them, sex and heat and musky desire. Ferran pushed until Jason was flat on his back, and then laid his head down on Jason’s chest, his ear pressed close to the skin, listening to the rhythm of Jason’s body.

“I will help you,” Ferran promised. “You’re very smart. It won’t take you long to understand things.”

“I hope you’re right.” Jason wanted to sleep, but his mind was going in a dozen different directions now, and he knew there was no way he’d even manage a doze without answers to some of his questions. “What’s a marriage ceremony like? Normally, I mean?”

“It takes place between the female getting married and her husband-to-be, closely surrounded by their extended families and select members of the community. It is an exchange of vows and loyalty in which the intended formally sheds his title of son for consort and renounces his service to his mother in exchange for a future of serving his wife. The female, in turn, offers her protection and affection, and promises to care for all of his needs and ensure that he is happy.

“If the matriarch already has other consorts, then they also speak words of welcome and vow to look after their new brother and to protect and shelter him. The new consort’s mother will ritually forsake her son, and then the son will join his new family.” Ferran’s lips curved in a smile. “And then there is a huge party. It can go for days and days if the families are large enough.”

“It sounds like fun.”

“Marriage ceremonies are very fun to attend. They teach young males as well, showing them the future they should expect to have and what some of their responsibilities will be.” He raised his head a little and looked up at Jason. “When we arrive on Perelan, you’ll get the chance to see a marriage ceremony. Neyarr and Garrell’s is set for a month after our return. Their intended wanted it to be sooner, but they wished to wait for us to be present.”

“I think they wanted to wait for you to be present.”

Ferran shook his head. “No, not just me. Both of them enjoyed your company when we were aboard your ship. They actually spoke for us before the Council of Matriarchs, and they’re very pleased with our arrangement. They’ve asked their mother for permission to spend extra time with both of us upon our arrival, to help acclimate you to our world.”

Maybe to act as a buffer too. The matriarchs probably figured it was better to surround Jason with people that he actually knew, people who would forgive him his inevitable social gaffes, instead of the cream of Perel society. “I’ll be glad to see both of them again.”

“You mean that.” Ferran sounded a little surprised.

Jason knew why. He sighed. “I’ll always try to be truthful with you,” he told his husband seriously. “I know I’m not always going to succeed, but it’s not because I want to lie to you. I’m just not used to putting everything I feel into words.”

Ferran’s smile was back, wider and sharper than before. “How do you feel right now?” he asked, shimmying his body up and down Jason’s provocatively. Jason felt himself start to harden again.

“Hungry.”

Ferran nipped his shoulder. “Hungry for food?”

“For you.” Jason swung his lover up onto his body, and as Ferran started to move, he forgot everything else and lost himself to the pleasure of their joining.

Chapter Four

THE FINAL few hours before their landing on Perelan held a special sort of franticness, differently flavored according to each individual’s position in their little expedition. When Jason could be distracted from his own nerves, he found the comparisons interesting. Ferran seemed to veer from intrigued to jarred, judging from the way his nose wrinkled every now and then. Not that Jason had the chance to observe Ferran very much in the course of their preparations, because both of them were kept extremely busy.

Dori kept Jason for over an hour in the infirmary, putting the translation implant into his ear, shooting him up with final doses of over a dozen vaccines, and finally making him put in the contact lenses that were a requirement for humans on the planet. “The acidity will get to you before long,” he told Jason, “mark my words. I can’t force you to wear them, but if I could, I absolutely would. Do you want to wake up with your eyeballs hemorrhaging all over your pillow?”

“Thank you for that stunning visual.” Jason reached out and took the contacts. These sorts of medical devices were common enough, but he preferred not to make changes to his body if he could help it. It reminded him too much of being a prisoner, when nothing about him had been within his own control except his mind.

“Do you need help putting them in?”

“No.” He lifted the glistening semicircles out of the stasis gel that held them, tilted his head back, and slipped the right one over his iris. The disk spread out from there until it covered the whole of his exposed eye. Jason blinked reflexive tears away and looked over at Dori.

“Let me check the fit.” The doctor shined a painfully bright light into Jason’s eye for a moment and then stepped back, nodding. “Good. They’re designed to pick up extra light too, you know, so they’ll improve your night vision by a substantial degree, which you’re gonna need once you start going out on the town. Now do the other.”

After Dori checked the second lens, he pulled away and said, “Good. Remember, they’ll have to be changed every four to six months, once the contacts become saturated. Now….” He slapped a small med kit into Jason’s hands and began describing its contents. “Nasal spray, to save your tender sniffer. The chewable tabs will protect your mouth and esophagus, so be sure to take one every morning. If your skin starts to feel raw, be sure to use the lotion. In fact, you should use the lotion daily anyway, but especially if you start feeling rubbed in the wrong places. And by the way,” he poked a thick finger at the chew tabs again, “this is metabolized through your kidneys, so your urine should have a protective effect on the tip of your penis.”

“How exactly do you think—no, never mind.” Jason really didn’t want to know what Dori thought his sex life consisted of.

“I’m giving Ferran chew tabs as well,” Dori continued, oblivious to Jason’s discomfort. “Once he gets back on Perelan, his own body’s acidity is going to increase back to normal levels, and I don’t want him giving you heartburn from swallowing his ejaculate.” The thought of it seemed to amuse him, and Dori chuckled.

“I’m pleased that this is entertaining for you,” Jason said coolly.

“Always keep your sense of humor, son. That’ll see you through the hard times.”

Jason left Dori chortling to himself and walked to the conference room. Giselle wanted to meet with him, and he knew what it was about this time. The upcoming decision made his stomach churn a little.

The doors slid open to reveal Giselle sitting on the far side of the table, Penelope standing a little bit behind her. As soon as he entered, they both looked up expectantly. “Come in,” Giselle said.

Jason came over and sat down across from her. One glance told him that the formal adoption document was displayed on the table. “Ah.”

“It’s time to decide, yes or no,” she told him. Her voice was brisk, as no-nonsense as a schoolteacher’s. “I understand that this isn’t something you really wanted to have to deal with, especially now, but once we land, our legal status on Perelan is finalized. If you decline, I’ll only be able to help you as much as any ambassador could help a citizen on a foreign planet, which isn’t very much.” Giselle looked at him for a long moment and then softly added, “If it helps at all, you should know that offering this wasn’t an easy decision for me. I have two daughters, neither of whom I’ve seen in years. I know how it feels to be part of a family, and to be severed from that family. I’m not asking you to call me Mom, Jason. I’m asking you to let me help you to the best of my ability going forward. I wouldn’t have put this option on the table if I didn’t truly think it was for the best.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” Jason said. He’d gone over and over the advantages of the adoption in his mind for the past twelve days, but even though it made sense, it still felt like he was somehow betraying his own family. He stared down at the writ of adoption, reading and rereading the clauses. “This will really only affect our status on Perelan?”

“Yes. To the rest of the Federation, you’re still your own entity at your age, adoption notwithstanding. Remember, though, that you’ve already changed your status dramatically by agreeing to marry Ferran. Legally, you’re in a very amorphous position right now. Being connected to me could only help to solidify that in the eyes of the Federation, even if our connection is limited to one planet.”

“I understand.” And he did. Even if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of adoption, logic told Jason that he was, in essence, about to be adopted by an alien species. Having his own backup was the smart thing to do. “This includes taking your last name.”

“Yes.” Simple answers, answers that gave him the space to decide, but Jason had already made his decision. He reached out and wrote his name with the tip of his finger on the blank line, then pressed the pad of that finger firmly next to it so it read his print and got a small sample of DNA.

“Excellent!” Giselle turned the document around and signed it herself, then had an impassive Penelope formally sign as the witness.

After everything was done, Penelope passed Jason a small, thin cloth patch shaped like two intersecting circles. “I’ll take care of the rest of your clothing later, but this will work as a quick and dirty fix. Put the patch on the left shoulder of whatever you’re going to wear today. It’s Ambassador Howards’s official insignia on Perelan and will indicate that you’re a member of her household.”

“I’ll do that.”

“I recommend wearing something in green for your first day,” Giselle put in. “The color is appropriate for everyday use, but it’s especially symbolic of welcome when meeting a new person, and you’re going to be meeting plenty of new people in the near future.”

Jason just nodded. Giselle dismissed him with a bright smile, and he headed back to his quarters, not wanting to dwell on the latest change to his life. At this point, things like that were becoming almost routine.

Ferran was there, pacing the living room. He was already dressed in a tight-fitting, backless green-and-gold jumpsuit, and he looked beautiful. Nervous as hell, but beautiful.

“Did you agree to the adoption?” he asked as soon as the door closed behind Jason. “Did you take her name?”

“Yes.”

Tension noticeably eased from Ferran’s shoulders. “Good. I wasn’t sure if you would or not. Names are a very proud thing on Perelan, and I know they have importance for humans as well.”

“I’m still a Kim,” Jason said. He tried to project some of his calm, however artificial, for his husband. “I’m just a Howards as well now. And I assume there’s going to be a Grenn somewhere in there too at some point.”

“As soon as my mother meets you and welcomes you into the family,” Ferran affirmed, looking calmer already. “Which should happen as soon as we are brought before her.”

“Another act to make our marriage more official?” A part of Jason wondered what signing the marriage contract had accomplished in the first place. It seemed to carry very little weight with the Perels.

“There are a lot of things that need to happen,” Ferran said. He looked faintly apologetic. “The contract is a necessary part of it all. I’m sorry I didn’t explain more fully.” He reached out and took Jason’s hand, pulling it close to his body.

“It’s okay.” And it was. That strange calm that had descended on him was still firmly in place, and that was fine by him. It wasn’t as good as how he felt after meditating, but he had barely had any time for that practice lately. “I have to get dressed.”

“May I watch?”

Jason smiled a little. “Of course.” They went back into the bedroom, and Jason opened his closet. Choices, choices… damn it, he had been a ship’s captain for much of his adult life, and there were very few variations on that uniform. Almost everything else he owned had been plain and, for the most part, completely interchangeable with every other piece of clothing he owned.

“This one is nice,” Ferran said after a moment, fingering a dark green, high-collared suit edged with black. “The style suits you. It’s dignified. Mature.”

Jason was prepared to make a joke about being old, but it died behind his teeth when he saw the look in his lover’s eyes. The look was utter, total concentration—complete devotion the likes of which, Jason realized, he probably wouldn’t see again for a long time once they got down to Perelan. Their time would be further divided, and the pressure on Ferran—the expectations of his mother, the Council of Matriarchs, and, in a way, every Perel—would come crashing down. This moment of singular togetherness was a gift, and Jason would be an idiot to ignore that.

He took the suit out and laid it on the bed; then he just stood there and stared at it. Once he put that suit on, it would become his new normal. Jason already knew that he would never go back to his uniforms, but he hadn’t thought it would be so hard to let go of them either. After a moment, Ferran stepped in and slowly unfastened Jason’s shirt, pulling it back off his shoulders and tossing it away. He did the same with Jason’s pants, sliding them down his legs and off, getting rid of the shoes first. Every movement was deliberate: not really sensuous, but decidedly intimate.

Ferran’s cool hands traced up Jason’s shins, over his knees and hips, and across his abdomen as Ferran stood again. Goose bumps sprang to life over Jason’s whole body, accentuated in the slightly chill air of their bedroom. Ferran exhaled against the base of Jason’s throat, warming him, before he turned to the green suit. He redressed Jason with the same care he’d used undressing him, carefully straightening the collar and smoothing out the sleeves before he attached Giselle’s insignia to the unmarked shoulder.

Once everything was done, he stepped close and embraced Jason in the Perel way. Their right temples touched, and each of their right hands cupped the side of the other’s face, gentle and intimate. They kept the rest of their bodies at a slight distance, feeling the heat of each other but nothing else.

“I love you,” Jason said, turning his face just far enough to kiss the edge of Ferran’s cheek. For some reason, he felt it was important to ensure that his lover had those words at the forefront of his mind before they tackled what came next.

“I love you,” Ferran replied. “You first. You always.”

“Good.” Jason kissed him again briefly before he pulled back. “Ready for our grand entrance?”

“Ready.”

ALL OF them joined the pilot up front for the descent. Jason had been seeing pictures of Perelan for weeks now, but watching it loom in the viewscreen of the ship sent an unexpected thrill through him. It was the same feeling he used to get when he was a Federation officer, before the war had so dramatically restricted travel. A new planet, a new people, and he was about to have an entirely new experience. The first human to marry into and get personal access to an advanced alien culture—it was impossible not to be excited about that.

From space, Perelan was a swirling, whitish-green ball, the landmass almost completely covered by mist and clouds. Jason listened with half an ear as the pilot went through the landing procedures and clearances. She brought them down smoothly through the gloom, ignoring the view for favor of her electronic monitors.

Jason couldn’t take his eyes off the sky. It was wet and dark, and rain poured down in pulsing sheets against the hull. Jagged lightning branched and spread like nerves through the sky.

It wasn’t Jacksonville, with neither the vivid colors nor the sheer violence of those storms, but it was just familiar enough to be comforting.

He barely had time to take in the landscape, which looked to be almost entirely trees, before the ship pulled into a hangar. It slowed to a halt and stopped on a landing pad. Jason expected them to be cleared to leave the ship a moment later, but instead, the viewscreen was suddenly flooded with viscous liquid sprayed at a high velocity.

“It kills any parasites that may have become attached during our entrance,” Ferran explained. “They aren’t frequent, but they can be very damaging to Berenze’s internal ecosystem if they aren’t destroyed.”

“I see.” That was fairly standard for more rural landing sites on many planets. “Is this where we’ll be met by your mother?”

“Matriarch Grenn won’t be meeting us here,” Giselle spoke up, wrapping a green silk scarf around her neck. “The landing site is a ways out from the main city. In fact, my official residence is just adjacent to this place, no more than five minutes’ walk.”

“They keep you on the outskirts?” Jason asked. He had known Giselle’s house wasn’t in the equivalent of downtown or Berenze, but he hadn’t figured she was actually isolated from the entire population.

“Every ambassador lives outside of central Berenze. Me, the Dorn representative, the Mazi, and there’s also a transitional house for the occasional freelance trader or interest group. That’s part of what makes your new status so special, Jason. You’re going to be the only alien living inside of the actual city.”

Cut off, he thought before he could stop himself. Jason hoped that Ferran hadn’t caught the emotions that went with that thought, but his lover didn’t seem perturbed. Still, it was probably best that he kept his silence. Still. Calm. It was all right. Everything was all right.

“Gloria, have everything taken to my house please,” Giselle instructed her pilot before turning to face the rest of her passengers.

Dori and Penelope had uniforms that closely matched Giselle’s formal wear, and everyone was wearing her insignia. She had even tried to talk Ferran into it, but he had deferred the decision to his matriarch.

“A shuttle will take us into the central city. Once we get there, we’ll be delivered immediately to the Council of Matriarchs for a welcoming ceremony. After that you two will be taken home by Grenn, and then the behind-the-scenes formalities will really get going. Hold on to your hats, gentlemen, we’re living in interesting times.”

“What hats?” Ferran whispered to Jason as they followed Giselle off her ship.

“It’s an old saying. It just means—” Suddenly, they were outside, and the intense, immediate humidity stopped his throat. The air was thick in Jason’s mouth, which seemed to have a mind of its own, opening over and over, trying to force the sour, pungent jungle air into a body that didn’t want anything to do with it.

“Jason?” Ferran held his shoulder, looking at him worriedly. Jason wanted to reassure him, but there was nothing he could say—his body wouldn’t let him—and he was starting to miss the air, to need the oxygen. Just as the first threads of panic began to float across his mind, someone slapped him hard in the middle of his back, just beneath his shoulder blades. He coughed reflexively, and the subsequent gasp of air burned all the way down. The next breath was a little easier, and the one after that easier still.

“Happens to everyone the first time!” Dori said with a grin as he stepped out from behind Jason. “I find it’s better not to warn people, make them all nervous about what to expect. Better just to help you through the first few breaths. After that you’re fine.”

Jason knew that the only words that would come out of his mouth right now would be impolite, so he nodded curtly at Dori and tried not to notice that his throat felt like he was swallowing acid.

“It will get better,” Ferran reassured him as they headed for the waiting shuttle. Another Perel stood beside it, his head slightly lowered in respect. He wore a green jumpsuit similar to Ferran’s, although nowhere near as fine. He looked like most male Perels, all white skin and quills and bright brown eyes.

“Ambassador,” he said, inclining his head as they arrived at the shuttle. “Welcome back.” He glanced over at Ferran and Jason, trying not to stare, but clearly curious. “And to you, travelers.”

Ferran replied in Perel, and Jason’s translator got its first workout. He heard the guttural sounds, growling and somehow smooth at the same time, but overlaid on top of it was Ferran’s speaking voice, the voice he used when speaking to Jason or Giselle or any other human. “The scent of home is sweet.”

“So it is,” the other man said.

“What’s your name, son?” Giselle asked briskly.

“Kylarr, Ambassador, of Srell’s House.”

“You know our destination?”

He nodded. “The Council House.”

“Correct. Let’s not waste any time in getting there, all right?”

He nodded again. “Yes, Ambassador.”

“Good.” Giselle entered the shuttle, the rest of them following her like children… which was part of the point, Jason knew, and not something he should feel resentful for. He felt it anyway, but let it ghost through him, into his mind and out of it so fast he knew the emotion didn’t show on his face. Ferran didn’t seem to have noticed either, so that was good.

The driver shut the door to the shuttle once they were all inside and then got into his seat. The air was a little drier inside, making it easier to breathe. Jason could barely make out any of the scenery through the darkly tinted windows as they sped forward.

“There isn’t much to see this far out,” Giselle said, following his gaze. “Mostly tunnels and trees. It will take a while to make it into the city, and once we get there, the sky will be obscured by buildings. Not that you see the sky very often.” She smiled. “This is a very damp climate, and rain falls several times a day. That’s another reason for the tunnels. They’re more like walkways in the city itself, but you’re never very far from cover.”

“How long does it take to get to the Council House?” Jason asked.

“Another half an hour or so….” As she spoke the shuttle began to slow down. “But there’s no traffic out here. Kylarr,” she called toward the front, “what’s happening?”

“It’s a security stop, Ambassador.”

She and Ferran exchanged concerned glances. “When did this begin?”

“Five days ago.”

Giselle frowned with irritation. “And what happened five days ago to warrant it?” she asked as the car pulled to a stop in front of a black barricade. It was too dim outside to make out any details, but Jason could see dark-cloaked Perels emerge from behind it to frame the front of the shuttle.

“I don’t know, Ambassador,” Kylarr replied just before he killed the engine.

Giselle didn’t say anything else, her face as smooth as her voice as their driver came around and opened the wide shuttle door.

One of the other Perels stepped forward, identical to his companions in that moment, with everything but his face obscured by the long, black garment he wore. “Welcome back, Ambassador.” He spoke the Federation’s common language, but his accent was much stronger than Ferran’s.

“Thank you.” Her voice was emotionless—very different from her usual, informal manner. “What is the reason for this interruption?”

“My apologies.” The Perel inclined his head, but he didn’t lower his eyes. They roved through the car until they fell on Jason, and there they stayed. “Berenze’s borders have had a number of security breaches over the past week. We have to check every incoming vehicle to ensure that no one who isn’t supposed to be here enters.”

“My party and I are expected at the Council House.”

“Forgive me, Ambassador, but unless everyone in your party is a marked member of your personal entourage—the Matriarch Grenn’s son excluded,” he said as his eyes flickered toward Ferran, “—they will have to stay with us until their presence can be validated by one of the matriarchs. There is only one such person in this shuttle that I can see.”

“You would drag one of the matriarchs out of her house for something this minor?” She gestured toward Jason. “I know you’re referring to him, but he’s the consort of Matriarch Grenn’s son and a member of her House.”

“So far, his status has not been validated,” the Perel insisted firmly. “Their union must be officially validated before he can enter the city.”

“Jason’s credentials are spotless, and beyond that, I am his legal guardian, his mother on Perelan.” Giselle smiled slightly when her questioner flinched. “Would you care to see the paperwork?”

“Yes, Ambassador.”

Penelope was on her feet in an instant, handing over a tablet with the proper documentation pulled up on it. The Perel studied it intently, but a few minutes later he handed it back and bowed, this time lowering his eyes. “My apologies, Ambassador. Of course, your son is free to accompany you.”

“I’m so pleased to hear that.” She took the tablet back and reclined against the seat. “What is your name, son?”

The Perel flushed faintly, the pink just visible at his cheekbones. “Marren of Srell’s House, Ambassador.”

“How interesting.” Giselle didn’t smile this time, and from the look on all of the Perels’ faces, she wasn’t disguising her emotions very well. Marren took a step back.

“Thank you for your patience, Ambassador.”

Giselle didn’t say anything, just nodded briefly before looking away. Kylarr shut the door, and in moments they were on their way again.

Penelope lifted the window that would soundproof the back of the shuttle. As soon as it was closed, Giselle exhaled loudly. “The Solitarians are moving fast.”

“I thought my mother had eased their concerns,” Ferran said. His hand had found Jason’s and was gripping it hard, searching for comfort that Jason blindly gave.

Solitarians… there had been a lecture about them, but he didn’t remember many of the details. “Those are the isolationists?” Jason asked, forcing his brain to work.

“Rabid isolationists,” Giselle said. “They were against any contact with aliens at all in the beginning. In fact, two people in the first group of humans that landed here were killed by members of Solitarians. They were against opening up their planet for trade, against exchanges of information, against allowing Perels to go into space, against accepting our help with their medical deficiencies… the list goes on and on. They’re in the minority, barely, and we’re slowly wearing down their objections when it comes to sharing our cultures. Suffice it to say that I was anticipating their strong resistance to your presence here and your marriage to Ferran. You would never have been granted permission to be here if it wasn’t for Grenn’s firm and very vocal support.”

“And yet, they’re setting up road blocks,” Penelope added, her normal smooth demeanor edging toward displeasure. “There could be other barriers in the way before we get to the Council House. Perhaps you should call ahead, and see if Matriarch Grenn can provide us with an escort.”

“No. This is the time for a show of strength,” Giselle replied, smacking her hand firmly on her thigh. “This is the moment to show any doubters that we won’t allow ourselves to be intimidated and we can handle anything they care to throw at us, because we’ve planned for it. That is our stance, and we won’t compromise on that. We can’t allow ourselves to compromise on our own independence or mobility. Got it?”

They all nodded. “Mind if I check your blood pressure?” Dori asked glibly when Giselle’s glare came around to him. “Because I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Chapter Five

THE REST of the ride into Berenze was tense but uneventful. Eventually, the dark of trees gave way to subterranean tunnels, with luminescent stripes along their walls and ceilings. It was bioluminescence, Jason remembered, from one of many industrial fungi the Perels manufactured in their area. The fungi weren’t included on the very short list of products they were willing to trade with outsiders, though. Most trade was restricted to purely decorative items.

It was raining hard as the shuttle pulled into a covered parking place in the plaza outside of the Council House. They hadn’t seen anyone on their way in—or at least, Jason hadn’t. It was too dark and too damp, and what wasn’t obscured by the rain was shrouded by a mist that seemed to cling to everything it touched. Subconsciously, Jason wanted to shy away from it, to avoid drawing it into his lungs, which were already suffering from the sour-thickness of the air. As his eyes adjusted to the open air, he suddenly realized there were people out there, moving through the mist, and whenever he caught a flash of reflected light, he knew their eyes were on him. There were a lot of flashes in the twilight.

“Up the steps,” Giselle said, indicating the dark stairs leading to a wide, inverted V-shaped building. The stairs weren’t stone or concrete or any other building material Jason had ever encountered before, and he bounced on the balls of his feet a little bit as they climbed.

Two more Perels met them at the top of the stairs, outside of a wide, arching door. They bowed but didn’t say anything, and Giselle inclined her head and strode right past them like she owned the place. The hall widened as they went farther inside. The walls were inlaid with subtle designs that reminded Jason of a tessellation, drawn out and stretched like a wave. It almost seemed to move as he looked at it, like a hologram.

“That’s incredible,” Jason murmured to Ferran, unable to tear his gaze away from the walls as they walked farther into the Council House.

“This building has been the seat of our matriarchs’ power for generations,” Ferran said. “Some of our greatest artists dedicated years of their lives to making this place beautiful and worthy of them.”

“It’s certainly striking,” Jason agreed.

Penelope shot a look at them that clearly said, Quiet, please, but Dori seemed to appreciate the conversation. “Hell of a place,” he said expansively, as though he were conducting a tour. “Wait until you see the Council chamber. Ferran did some of the paintings in there, and some of the detail work on his mother’s chair.”

“Really?” Jason saw Ferran’s blush and smiled at him.

“Gentlemen,” Penelope interrupted softly, “the Council chamber is just ahead. Try to maintain a sense of decorum.”

“I’m head to toe full of decorum,” Dori whispered mischievously, but a moment later they reached the Council chamber, and all thought of conversation simply ceased.

Jason looked from wall to wall with a sense of wonder. He felt the kind of breath-stealing awe that he so rarely experienced these days—as though he were in the presence of something unbelievably glorious. The last time he’d seen anything like this, he had been visiting the Cathedral of the Winds with his parents as a small boy.

The room itself wasn’t that large—no more than a few hundred square yards. A long table sat near the far wall, with seven chairs spaced out around it. A skylight set in the very top of the curving ceiling didn’t let much light in. The light came from the walls, and, like the work lining the hallway, they glowed with shapes that drew the eye with their complexity, capturing and holding attention. Different sections were done very differently, clearly by a variety of artists. An area near the ceiling, done in variegated blues, greens, and golds, seemed to get larger and higher the longer Jason looked at it, almost mesmerizing in its beauty.

He forced himself to stop playing tourist and instead pay attention to the group they were approaching. Finally, he was going to get a glimpse of the vaunted ruling matriarchs of Perelan, the undisputed leaders of the entire Perel civilization.

Honestly, at first glance, they weren’t very intimidating. He carefully kept his mind calm and his impressions discreet, remembering that the females were stronger empaths than the males.

Jason had seen females of the species several times before, but the ones who managed the space station above Perelan had to be infertile or unwed, because they were much more slender than these individuals, and a heavy weight was a sign of prosperity and childbearing. These females were half as wide as they were tall, their quills shorter and thicker than any male’s. The quills were tipped with dark points, much like Ferran’s, and their eyes were just as wide and bright. Rich, brightly colored, and completely shapeless robes covered their heavy bodies, and each wore a thick stole around her neck.

Seven matriarchs sat in front of them, and four wore stoles in various welcoming shades of green. The stoles of the other three were a rusty, metallic red, which Jason supposed was a sign of disapproval.

Giselle stopped about five feet out from the table, where a single chair faced it. She sat with a regal flourish, crossing her hands in her lap. The rest of her entourage stayed standing.

“Welcome back, Ambassador.” The Perel in the center did the speaking. She was a little heavier than the others and perhaps a little shorter, and her voice was strong and deep. She spoke in the guttural Perel language, but Jason’s translator was making more sense now, and he could parse out her words fairly clearly.

“Thank you.” Giselle replied in the Perel language, doing a decent job getting the hard consonants out.

“I see you brought me a new son.”

“I’ve brought us a new son, Matriarch Grenn.” The satisfaction in her voice was clear.

“Did you now?” The Perel’s amber eyes seemed to grow a little brighter, and they focused more firmly on Jason. Every other pair of eyes at that table did too. Jason had never felt the intensity of so much focus before in his life. “He agreed to it, then.”

“He did.”

“Good. Welcome, Jason Kim Howards, consort of my son, Ferran. This makes you my son as well. Welcome to your new home.”

“Thank you.”

“He should not speak here,” one of the other matriarchs growled. “Not in that tongue.”

Ferran stiffened slightly, keeping his arm touching Jason’s at all times. There was something protective about his posture, and Jason gave him a small, reassuring nudge.

“He doesn’t know any better yet,” Grenn replied.

“Your son should have taught him!”

“This is not the point of this meeting, Matriarchs.” Giselle went back to using the Federation language—rather pointedly, Jason thought. “This is an introduction. Despite our differences, we can all remain civil.”

“On our world, our language is civil.”

“But we are patient,” Grenn said with finality. “Although we did expect you sooner.”

“We were delayed on the road.”

The matriarch paused for a moment before responding. “Ah.”

“Yes.”

“What cultural gifts does your son bring?” another of the green-stoled matriarchs asked. “In what ways will he enhance our understanding of each other?”

“My son brings gifts of movement and grace,” Giselle said smoothly. “Gifts of focus and mental aptitude.” Suitably broad statements that could encompass the things Jason and his new matriarch had ended up negotiating between them, which they had yet to finalize. “Gifts that he will be happy to share with his new people after his presence here has been validated.”

Matriarch Grenn turned her gaze on her son. “This is who you’ve chosen, Ferran?”

Ferran stepped forward a little. “This is my consort, Jason, Mother.”

“You are legally married in the eyes of his people?”

“Yes.”

“Then in their eyes, you are part of him. In our eyes, he is part of you.” She looked to the left and then the right. “The majority validates your marriage to each other, and the majority carries this council. Our people look forward to witnessing your rhezan.” She smiled beatifically at Jason and Ferran. “Your union is validated.”

“For the space of one year,” the red-stoled matriarch who had spoken up earlier added. “At the end of that time you shall be reevaluated, both of you. If you fail in your tasks, or if you cannot handle the trials of an interspecies union, the contract will be terminated.”

“I thought that was supposed to be a decision made by Jason and Ferran,” Giselle said.

“We can discuss that later.” Grenn was as serene as a martyr or a distant god. “This audience is ended. I want to greet my sons.”

Giselle stood up. “I’ll be back tomorrow, then. Bright and early.” She turned and took one of Jason’s hands and one of Ferran’s and placed them together. “This is the start,” she whispered, and then she walked out of the chamber, taking Dori and Penelope with her. Dori threw them a wink before he was out of sight.

It was a surprisingly wrenching experience to watch them leave, but Jason kept his grip on Ferran’s hand.

It’s going to be all right. You have him. You’re here together. That’s all that matters.

Grenn started to stand up, but a frenzy of low growls and grunts from the red-stoled matriarchs, too fast for Jason’s translator to handle, interrupted her. He caught a word here and there, but he didn’t need an exact translation to know she wasn’t saying anything he wanted to hear. Ferran’s grip on his hand grew tighter and tighter, but Jason didn’t even consider pulling away. His husband needed him to be strong right now.

After a minute or so of this, Grenn held up a hand, effectively putting the debate on hold. “Take Jason to our home,” she instructed Ferran slowly, so that Jason could keep up. “I’ll speak with you there.”

“Yes, Mother.” Ferran turned and walked quickly out of the Council chamber, almost pulling Jason along with him. They slowed down a little once they reached the halls, thankfully, and Ferran’s grip relaxed.

“I take it they aren’t all happy,” Jason murmured as they walked toward the exit.

“No,” Ferran whispered back. “But we can’t talk about it here.”

“I know.”

Jason had never been the type who found silence oppressive, so he didn’t mind letting the conversation lapse. Outside, the sky was almost black, but there was more illumination on the street than ever thanks to the phosphorescent fungi coating the buildings and street. It was a strange effect, almost like looking at a photograph in negative. He could make out the shapes of people as well, wearing dark, rain-resistant cloaks and staring at the two of them with shining eyes.

The rain was falling so hard it almost hurt, and Jason’s clothes soaked through fast. “Ferran….”

“Our shuttle is coming.”

“We could wait inside.”

“No.” Ferran shook his head, an edge of hurt in his voice. “Not in there.” Instead, he moved behind Jason and clasped his hands over Jason’s chest, resting his chin on his husband’s shoulder and staring out into the night. It didn’t help much with the rain, but it did make Jason feel warmer. He laid his hands over Ferran’s and forced himself to breathe the watery air in. It was markedly easier for him to handle the acidity now. The edges of his eyes still stung and burned, but it was bearable.

A few minutes later, a small shuttle pulled to a stop in front of the Council House. Ferran went toward it instantly. Jason was surprised by how few vehicles were moving on the streets, honestly, and he was glad that this one seemed to be for them. He opened the shuttle door himself, brushing off the driver’s attempt to help, and settled them into the back.

The next thing Jason knew, they were pulling away, and Ferran was in his lap. It was strange, juxtaposed with the last time they’d been in this position, in a shuttle on another planet. Then, Ferran had been so relaxed he was almost boneless, languorous and happy. Now he was tense and holding on to Jason for all he was worth.

“It’s all right,” Jason said, stroking down Ferran’s quills. They bristled against his hand, already sharp with discomfort. “Ferran.” Jason lifted Ferran’s head and kissed his lover gently on the mouth. “Relax. Deep breaths. We’re fine.”

“That was… I’ve never heard….”

“What, someone being rude?”

“That was beyond rude, and she is a ruling matriarch—she should not say such things!” Ferran’s lips thinned to a line again, and he tucked his head back under Jason’s chin. “I can’t speak about it in here.”

“We don’t have to speak about it at all,” Jason told him. “We don’t even have to think about it. I just don’t like for you to be upset.”

Ferran took a deep breath and made an effort to relax, his quills softening a little. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Jason glanced out of one of the windows. “We’re going to your house?”

“Yes. Neyarr and Garrell will meet us there.”

“Good.” Jason couldn’t help but feel a little abandoned after Giselle’s abrupt departure, and it would be good to see a few friendly faces after the last unsettling half hour. “How many other people live in your house, again?”

“Many, but we have separate dens.” Ferran was relaxing now as he got to talking, a habit Jason had noticed before. Distraction was a good de-stressor for his husband. “My mother is a ruling matriarch, but there are many families with their own matriarchs who align with us out of family loyalty or similar ideals. Our House is as large as the space station circling this planet, and there are over thirty families who live within our borders.”

“Kind of like Drifters,” Jason commented.

“Who are they?” Ferran seemed genuinely interested, and Jason was grateful for the distraction.

“They live on the Fringe, mostly. They’re families that don’t come from any particular planet or claim any particular ethnicity, but they’re all wanderers with no official status in the Federation. These people start with one ship, a central ship, and as new families join them, they attach their ships to each other until you end up with a flying city—the kind of thing that can never land on a planet because it would be torn apart under that kind of stress. They keep to themselves, trade for what they need, and are basically as self-sufficient as you can get living in space.”

“They just fly around exploring new places and meeting new people?” Ferran’s tone was kind of wistful. “That sounds nice.”

“It’s hard too. They’re vulnerable to piracy, they can be pretty unreasonable and bigoted toward outsiders, and without Federation membership, they’re forever restricted to the Fringe planets—and those are becoming fewer and farther between. But I’ve met a few, and they’ve all seemed pretty content with the lifestyle. Humans can adjust to anything.” Jason kissed the edge of Ferran’s forehead, just below his hairline. “We’re very adaptable creatures.”

“I know. I’m glad.”

The shuttle pulled into a tunnel and continued for a few hundred yards, stopping three times for Ferran to present identification to electronic checkpoints. The machinery was archaic by most human standards, but the security kiosks themselves looked new.

“My mother just had them installed,” Ferran said after the third check, when Jason couldn’t stop himself from raising an eyebrow. “She might have gone a little too far with it,” he admitted.

“This is on our account, then?”

“No one is certain what effect an alien living among us, really among us, will have. My mother believes in being prepared.”

“Are we likely to have problems inside your own house?”

“Almost certainly not,” Ferran reassured him. “My family is very progressive, and they’re all looking forward to meeting you. My cousins all want to sign up for your classes.”

Jason chuckled a little. “I haven’t even put any on offer yet.”

“But you will. And when you do, you’ll have the support of my entire House,” Ferran promised him.

THE TWINS were waiting for them, but despite his husband’s assurances, Jason had no idea whether they would really be welcoming or not.

That question was answered almost as soon as they were in the door. The two of them surrounded Ferran first, pulling him into a hug and purring a welcome. Before Jason could blink, they were on him as well, and the strength of their embrace and their clear affection warmed him right through.

They were almost perfectly identical: slightly shorter than Ferran and dressed in matching dark blue and green jumpsuits, but Neyarr had a certain arch to his brows that Garrell didn’t share. Looking at them as they pulled back, he was almost sure he knew who was whom. Almost.

“Welcome home,” Neyarr said, pulling them both inside and shutting the door behind them.

“And thank you for not being a fool,” Garrell added to Jason. His twin hit him on the arm a moment later, and he flinched theatrically. “What? He would have been a fool to say no to Ferran.”

“If I recall, no was the word you were looking for in the first place,” Jason said, but he was smiling.

“That was before,” Garrell purred. “Things have changed. Come.” He pulled on their arms and drew them down the hall. It was almost as finely decorated as the one in the Council House, but with brighter colors, pastels that Jason didn’t think he’d see on this planet. “The Matriarch combined your den with your brother’s to give you the space you need.”

“It’s connected to ours, so we’ll be nice and close if you need us,” Neyarr added. “For anything at all. Advice… in the bedroom, maybe—”

“Our bedroom is not for sharing,” Ferran told his cousins plainly. “At all.”

“We know.”

“Prude.” Neyarr turned to Jason. “That is the word, isn’t it? Prude? We didn’t encounter many of those during our trip, but if anyone here would fit that word, it would be the two of you.”

“You’re just jealous,” Jason said lightly. He barely knew the twins, but he was comfortable enough with them to tease a little bit.

“Jealous of what?” Garrell asked as he opened the last door on the right at the end of the entrance hallway. It led to a warmly lit room lit with globe-shaped yellow lights instead of the phosphorescent or inlaid lighting that Jason had seen so far. A sectional couch shaped like an ancient horseshoe took up the center, an oval with a break at one end. There were tables and empty shelves along the walls. It looked like a living room. It looked… human.

“Jealous of being bound to one sexual partner for the rest of my life?” Garrell continued as he sprawled onto the couch. “This is not jealousy. This is a fleeting effort to understand the appeal. One partner is not at all the normal way of things for a Perel.”

That was something that Jason had thought about a lot, and didn’t really need to be reminded of right now. Garrell grinned at his cousin. “Although if you’re going to limit yourself, Ferran, I think you’ve got excellent taste.”

“You think I have excellent taste?” Ferran’s eyes were wide, and he looked much more like himself than he had since they left Jacksonville. “You think?” In an instant, he was on the couch, twisting his cousin’s arm behind his back. Garrell resisted, naturally, and after a few seconds, they fell to the floor with a thud. Neither of them cared enough to stop wrestling.

“Actually, we are the ones with the taste,” Neyarr said smugly to Jason. “We helped to decorate some of the rooms in your den. Ferran used to share it with Veyall, but you know about that, yes?”

“Some,” Jason agreed. What he knew about Ferran’s brother wouldn’t fill a thimble, but he didn’t feel the need to discuss that with the twins.

“Well, there are five rooms total. Only one bedroom, because what use would you have for two? Any guests will stay in Grenn’s den, naturally. Another room is this place, your audience chamber, your… living room, yes?”

“You know perfectly well what it’s called,” Jason said dryly, and Neyarr laughed.

“I like to tease. It was so easy to convince humans that we were simple-minded, wide-eyed provincials ripe for a new encounter, just waiting to be instructed in the arts of iniquity. I think we did more instructing, truly.”

“Iniquitous arts. You could probably teach a class in those.”

“It is a calling for my brother and me,” Neyarr said with a shallow bow. “Now, where was I? The rooms! Yes, your bedroom, the living room, you have Ferran’s kitchen, which is fortunate for you because his cooking is quite fantastic. The bathroom, where the water is filtered to be neutral to your tender human needs, and the studio. It is the only room that gets natural light in your den, and it’s also the largest. Ferran and Veyall used it for their paintings, but there is room for whatever you might want to do as well.” He tilted his head a little bit in question. “What will you be teaching us?”

“Well, it won’t be language classes,” Jason deadpanned. “You clearly have that under control.”

“We are very talented, true,” Neyarr said, his quills fluffing a little as he preened.

It looked like Ferran and Garrell had run out of steam, leaning against each other and making hiccupping little purrs that Jason knew was laughter. “Lazy,” Garrell panted, tweaking one of Ferran’s quills. “Where is your edge? You have to exercise more.” He looked up at Jason. “Why aren’t you exhausting him every night?”

Ferran gave his cousin a shove before standing up. “Nosy. Thank you for welcoming us back. You can both go now.”

“But we haven’t finished the tour!”

“I know my own den. I want to show my consort around myself.”

Both the twins blinked slowly, a sign of mild disdain or disappointment, but they did head toward the door. “But when will you show him to the rest of the family?” Neyarr asked as he walked slowly out. “And you haven’t eaten, and there’s nothing prepared in your den.”

“Everything else must hold until after we speak to my mother. She wants us to wait for her here.”

“Ah.” The twins glanced at each other significantly and then left without any further protest. The door shut softly behind them, and Jason and Ferran were alone, free to talk at last… except that Jason had no idea where to start.

Fortunately, Ferran didn’t have that problem. “This door is a back entrance to my mother’s house. The other doors in the entrance tunnel lead to halls that become family dens. Our den has no hall because it is connected to my mother’s, and so is closest to the surface.”

“How deep underground are we?” Jason asked.

“About twenty feet. Not deep.” He took Jason’s hand and led him toward the wide, arched doorway on the far side of the living room. Through it was the kitchen, very human to Jason’s eyes, except that there was almost nothing automatic in there. Various implements hung from the walls, and mesh cages full of tools Jason couldn’t identify dangled from the ceiling. The lighting was more muted in here, radiating from the center of the ceiling.

“Ambassador Howards told me she would share her garden with us,” Ferran said. “She grows things that you like to eat. And I can make meals that are very similar to human food with what my mother has access to.”

“It’s strange. We never talked about what you grew up eating,” Jason commented as he ran his fingers over a round, bulbous contraption studded with sharp knives where it sat on a counter.

“I like human food. We are omnivores; it’s easy for us to adapt.”

“I’m an omnivore too, you know.”

“Yes, but you aren’t in the habit of eating any of your food live,” Ferran replied, his voice a little tight. Jason almost wanted to look around for tanks or terrariums, but he knew that would make his husband more self-conscious. Ferran tugged again, and Jason followed him into the closest door, which led into the bedroom. The lights were very low, and the bed was circular and took up more than two-thirds of the room. Five-petaled orange blossoms as large as Jason’s head were strewn over the dark, slick-looking sheets. There were gauzy gray curtains stretching from the ceiling to the floor on one side of the room, and next to that was another door. “Our closet,” Ferran said, indicating the curtains. “Through that door is the bathroom.”

“It looks nice.” Jason must not have sounded too convinced, because Ferran wouldn’t meet his eyes. He tried another tack. “Especially the bed. Do Perels usually put flowers on beds?” The subject change seemed to work, because Ferran’s expression went soft, and he smiled a little.

“Those are for newlyweds,” he explained, curling in close to Jason. “They symbolize a sweet beginning. Can you smell them?”

“Yes. They’re a little like tangerines.”

“What is a tangerine?”

“A fruit,” Jason said. “It’s naturally very sweet. I’ll get you one someday—I think you’d like the taste.”

“You are sweet,” Ferran told him, pressing a kiss to Jason’s cheek and then another to his chin.

Jason had been about to ask Ferran to show him the studio, but suddenly, the bed looked very inviting, and his husband was being very distracting.

“That’s a very big bed,” he said quietly as Ferran grazed his lips down Jason’s neck.

“They’re sized to provide for a matriarch and all of her consorts,” Ferran said, his voice a bare whisper. “All… at… once.”

“No wonder your cousins joke.”

“We have always had different interests.” Ferran’s hands loosened the neck of Jason’s high-collared suit, baring his throat and the top of his chest. His fingertips danced over bare skin, and his breath was comfortingly warm in the slight coolness of the room. “Different passions. They will go their way and love many, but I only love you.”

“Ferran….” Jason lifted his lover’s head and kissed his lips hard, drinking him in and drowning in the comforting familiarity of his mouth, the feel of his eager tongue, and the smoothness of his pearl-white skin. Ferran’s arms came around his waist, tugging them closer together, so tight that they were in danger of losing their balance. When they did, they would fall back onto that giant bed, the bed that looked so incredibly comfortable and inviting….

The sound of a gentle cough brought their activities to a very sudden stop. They turned to see Grenn standing in the bedroom door, her heavy body barely more than a silhouette in the dimness of the bedroom light. “I’ll be in the audience chamber,” she said before disappearing down the hall.

Wonderful. Caught making out by his mother-in-law, who apparently was so much in charge of everything that courtesies like knocking before entering didn’t pertain to her. Jason shut his eyes and tried to will his mind clear again, to push away the tantalizing warmth and want he always felt when he was touching Ferran.

It was a bit of a comfort to see that Ferran wasn’t all that happy about the situation either. “I am sorry,” Ferran whispered as he straightened up, refastening Jason’s collar for him. His hands lingered for a long moment on Jason’s shoulders before dropping away. “I should have known to wait.”

“It isn’t your fault. It’s just bad timing,” Jason replied. After checking to make sure he wasn’t going to embarrass himself further with a blatant erection, he nodded, and the two of them headed back out into the living room.

Ferran’s mother was standing in the empty center of the white couch, her hands folded demurely across her stomach. “Son.”

“Mother.” Ferran went to her and embraced her the Perel way, leaning down so their temples could touch. They stayed that way for a long moment before she let go, and Ferran stepped back.

“And your consort.” All her attention was on Jason now, and he had to fight a sudden urge to fidget. He hadn’t fidgeted since he was a child, and no one’s scrutiny, not even his mother-in-law’s, was going to make him take it up again. “Come and greet me, my newest son.”

Jason took a few steps closer to her and bowed formally, another relic of his childhood that he’d held on to. “Matriarch Grenn.”

“I am as much your mother on this planet as Ambassador Howards, Jason Kim Howards of the House of Grenn. You shall address me as Mother.” She said it calmly, with every expectation of obedience.

“I would prefer not to.” It might be a small sticking point, but it was a sensitive one for Jason.

“Hmm. Then I suppose you will have to call me Matriarch. In public, at least.” She smiled a little, her round cheeks protruding like tiny apples. “In my son’s den, or in private, you may call me Grenn.”

Ferran blinked, clearly taken aback. Apparently, calling Grenn by her given name was something of a rarity, and Jason realized that it was an honor he was fortunate to be extended. “Thank you, Grenn.”

“It is my pleasure. Sit down, my sons. I understand that there are other things on your minds, so I won’t stay long.” The three of them sat, Jason and Ferran facing Grenn from the other side of the couch. “I simply wanted to inform you of your schedules for the next few days. I wish I could give you more time to be alone, but there is too much to do for that to be possible.”

“What do you have lined up?” Jason asked.

“Education, for both of you. Ferran will spend much of his day learning how to deal with aliens appropriately. He will sit in on our policy sessions and learn what things the Council wishes him to represent to the wider universe once the two of you go abroad again, which won’t be for many months. And you”—she focused on Jason—“have very much to learn about your new home. You will be instructed in language, first and foremost, and in our cultural traditions. You will be introduced, slowly, to the wider society of our city. Over 90 percent of our population lives in this metropolis, and eventually, you shall be known to them all.

“Also, your human mother wishes to see both of you on a regular basis. She will be a frequent guest in my house. Additionally, you will spend one hour of every day with me, Jason.” Grenn smiled slightly. “So that we may discuss your acclimation, and address any problems or concerns you may have.”

“Good.” Despite intending to make every effort to “acclimate,” Jason knew there were going to be things that bothered him, things he wanted to argue over, and he already knew that the person to do that with was Grenn. She was the only one with the power to change anything.

“This program starts tomorrow,” Grenn said. She stood up and held out her hands. “Tonight, your family wants to greet you. They are assembled in the audience chamber in my house.” She tilted her head slightly. “It would be improper for my sons not to escort me.”

Each of them took one of her proffered hands, and they went back into the main hall, heading through the biggest door at the very end of it. Beyond that was a small, private tunnel, and at the end of that tunnel was a door that opened onto a platform with several chairs and a small, intricately carved table on it. In front of the platform was the largest group of Perels Jason had ever seen assembled in one place before.

All of them wore green in one form or another, and they packed the large room from wall to wall, with only standing room except for perhaps a dozen chairs spaced carefully through the chamber. A female sat in each. Everyone else—and there had to be over a hundred Perels—was male, and their eyes were utterly rapt.

Jason remembered Giselle telling him that fewer than fifty male Perels left their planet every year to tour the universe, which meant he was probably the first alien that most of the House of Grenn had ever seen in person.

Grenn pulled them over to flank her chair before releasing their hands and sitting down. She looked out at the teeming crowd and smiled.

“Children,” she announced, slowly enough that Jason’s translator could keep up. “Today is a great day for the House of Grenn. My son Ferran is home, and he has brought with him a rare and special consort. This,” she pointed over her shoulder at Jason, “is Jason Kim Howards Grenn.” She said it extra slowly, enunciating each growling syllable, and Jason could see the younger ones in the crowd saying it silently with her, trying it out in their mouths. “Today their union has been validated by the Council.

“Jason is my son, and I want you to welcome him like a brother. Be kind to him, be patient with him, help him learn how to live this new life. It is the fate of almost all sons to become consorts, and the transition can be hard. Help him, but respect the privacy of my sons’ den. Do you understand?”

A thrumming sound, something between a buzz and a hum, resonated through the crowd. Jason assumed it meant yes. It had to be good, because Ferran looked happy, and a moment later, Grenn clapped her hands and the solemn mood was broken. Then the Perels mobbed the stage.

Jason lost track of both Ferran and Grenn as he was pulled into the crowd and passed gently from group to group like he was a precious, fragile pet. Hands stroked his short black hair with awe, and little fingers rubbed at his darker skin curiously, as though they might rub the color off. No one spoke anything but Perel, and it was all so rapid and jumbled that Jason couldn’t make out anything.

He let himself be guided—saying nothing, but trying to get a handle on faces as they were presented to him. All of the males were uniformly white, while the females all had quills tipped with dark brown. Ferran was the only exception Jason saw to the rule. He’d have to remember to ask his husband about it.

Eventually, Ferran found Jason and detached him from the group of people surrounding him, making apologies for stealing him away. The children—pups, Jason remembered, that was the usual term for them here—whined a little, but Ferran was implacable. A few minutes later, the two of them escaped back into the tunnel, and by the time they were back at Ferran’s den, fresh food was waiting for them on the kitchen table.

“They knew we hadn’t eaten,” Ferran explained when he saw Jason’s surprise.

“How did they get in here?”

“Oh, none of the doors are locked,” Ferran replied. “That would be very rude. It was probably Ney or Garr who left the food for us, and they won’t make a habit of entering our home without permission.”

“So anyone can come in here at any time?” Jason asked, not liking the sound of that.

“Only if they’re already in my mother’s house. But they won’t,” Ferran assured him. “I promise that they won’t. We are respectful of each other’s dens.”

“Except for Grenn.”

Ferran flushed slightly. “My mother is accustomed to going wherever she pleases. It will take some time for her to understand otherwise, perhaps, but we cannot bar our den to her. It would be unprecedented.”

Jason was a moment away from quipping that that was a precedent that the two of them would benefit from, but he saw that Ferran was genuinely distressed by the idea, so he swallowed the comment and said instead, “You two are very close, aren’t you?”

“She is my mother,” Ferran said with a hint of reverence in his voice. “She gave me life. She has always been good to me, letting me learn and travel and…. She let me have you, Jason. I never wanted anything more than I wanted to be with you, and she understood. It was a very difficult decision for the Council, and I will never be able to repay the effort she went to just to make me happy.”

Oh, sweetheart. Jason’s mind was spinning with things that Grenn was getting out of this arrangement beyond making her only living son happy, but he couldn’t tell Ferran any of that. He pulled Ferran close and kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, and his lips. “I’m glad to be here.”

“Good,” Ferran sighed. “My family is so happy to have you. Everyone wants to learn from you, and they’ll help you adapt to our world. You are a treasure, a beloved.”

“Those sound like titles I haven’t earned yet.”

“You will,” Ferran told him, and there was complete confidence in his voice. It was more than a little humbling, the depth of trust that his husband had in Jason.

“Come on,” Jason said, sidestepping the topic. “Let’s eat.”

Chapter Six

JASON’S BELONGINGS arrived during the night and were left for him in the living room by someone. Jason didn’t know who. The idea that the entire House of Grenn had access to his personal quarters was uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem to bother Ferran at all, and Jason figured he’d get used to it.

He found a new outfit, similar to the silk one he’d worn on his first day but in dark blue, and pulled it on. Dirty clothes…. He had no idea what to do with them. He didn’t know how to use the kitchen—Ferran had had to show him how to get the water running. Jason felt like a five-year-old. There were no buttons, no computer interfaces for him to program any of the devices with. The water was controlled with pressure valves that required tying off, of all things, and the electricity had to be sparked into the stove with a small striker set in its top.

Jason had been hoping for a few hours to spend alone with Ferran, to get a handle on their den—he hadn’t even been in the studio yet, and he was curious to see some of Ferran’s art—but Neyarr and Garrell were there first thing in the morning to pull them out of their quiet and throw them into the social scene. They went to eat in Grenn’s den with their family, which consisted of dozens of other Perels, mostly children. Jason and Ferran were inevitably pulled apart, and Jason had to be very kind but very clear when he explained to a small pup that, while it was a nice thought, Jason didn’t need to be fed by hand.

The child just looked confused at first. That was the problem with translation implants; they changed what you heard, but they couldn’t change what you said. Instead of speaking, Jason tried to mime what he meant, and clearly something about the way he was doing it was hilarious, because all of the children laughed. But he managed to get his point across, because a moment later, the pup patted his shoulder and handed him a hard roll covered with purple seeds.

“Thank you.”

“Fanku.”

“Thank… you.”

“Tank… oo.”

“Good job,” Jason congratulated the pup and patted him on the shoulder in return, which made him blush and drop his big dark eyes toward the floor.

“I’m Jason.” He tapped himself on the chest.

“Jason Kim Howards Grenn,” another kid said from a little way down the table. He was an older one, nearly adult. His face was a little wider than the others around him and his expression a little more open. “I know how to say your name.” His chest puffed up a little. “I speak like you.”

“You do, very well,” Jason said. “Who taught you?”

“Matriarch Jlinn,” he said, inclining his head a little in respect. “She lived in space for many years, and she speaks every language. She teaches us eldest. I will leave to go off-planet next year, and when I go traveling, I will speak every language, and all the aliens will like me, and I will get to bring one home too, like Ferran did with you.”

“I hope you do make friends on your trip,” Jason replied noncommittally. “What’s your name?”

“Corran. Ney and Garr are my older brothers. They did not get to bring an alien back, but they are going to be married soon, and we will all celebrate them!”

“That will be fun,” Jason agreed. “And who is this?” He indicated the pup who had tried to feed him.

“Grennson. He is a….” Corran visibly wracked his brain for a moment, his pointed nose wrinkling a little in concentration. “Ward. A ward, I think. His mother’s house was at the edge of the city, and there has been trouble at the edges of the city. The matriarch and her daughter were lost, and most of her sons. Those who remained were made wards of the Council, and he was renamed Grennson.”

“Oh.” Jason wanted to ask more about the trouble at the edge of the city, but it probably wasn’t the thing to discuss with a group of children over breakfast, even if most of them couldn’t understand the conversation. “Teach me how to say thank you.”

Corran nodded and then purred a word that sounded like most of the other words Jason had heard, the r’s rolled in a way that he knew would give him trouble. He tried it, and everyone began to laugh again.

“No, you just said flower,” Corran said, his face stretched in a grin. “Try again.”

He tried again, and it still wasn’t right. Grennson tried to tell him how to do it, and Corran kept at it. After a minute, all of the children at his table were purring thank you, and Jason was doing his best to replicate it.

A gong suddenly sounded, and abruptly, all of the children stopped chatting and sat completely still, their eyes fixed on the entryway. Grenn came through a moment later, trailing a dark blue robe across the spongy floor, her face serene. “Are you all finished?”

“Yes, Matriarch.” Everyone said the words in sync, slowly enough to easily understand.

“Then you should go to your classes.”

In moments, the dining room emptied of almost everyone. Some of the older children stayed, and Neyarr, Garrell, and Ferran were still there. Ferran made his way back to Jason’s side. “Was breakfast all right?”

“I hardly ate anything,” Jason said honestly. “I was too busy talking to the children.”

Ferran looked both pleased and concerned. “You need to eat.”

“I’ll take something with me,” Jason told him.

“Food will be provided wherever you are,” Grenn interjected. “My sons do not go hungry. And right now, I have need of Jason. Ferran, you have an appointment with Ambassador Howards in the Council House in an hour.”

“I need a way to get in touch with Ferran,” Jason said. The Perels stilled and looked at him. “In case of emergency.”

“What emergency could befall you in my own house?” Grenn asked, clearly meaning it to be rhetorical. Jason didn’t take it that way.

“The emergency might happen to him. I need a way to contact him if that occurs.”

“Jason….” Ferran whispered uncertainly.

“This is important, Ferran.” Jason locked eyes with Grenn and stared, not rudely but with calm determination.

“I will procure something for you,” she said at last. “We can discuss it in our meeting, before you and I are due at the Council House.”

Wonderful. Their first private meeting, and Jason had ensured that it was going to get off to a controversial start. “Thank you.”

“Come.” She turned and walked away. Jason paused long enough to kiss his husband, easing the worry on Ferran’s face, before leaving to follow the matriarch.

Every wall was decorated—some of them painted, others laid out in mosaics. Jason was distracted enough by the beauty of it that he managed to maintain his calm fairly well, all things considered. When they turned into what looked to be Grenn’s private audience chamber, his worry flared up, but he took a deep breath and sat down in a chair that looked like it was growing straight out of the floor.

Grenn sat across from him, and they looked at each other for a long moment. “My son worries that you will offend me,” she said at last. “He fears you will offend me so badly that I will insist you leave. The prospect of discord between the two of us is his most pressing concern.”

“How likely is that to be a problem?” Jason asked bluntly.

“Very unlikely” came the immediate response. Grenn smiled at Jason’s surprise. “I would no more anticipate that you behave like a perfect son than I would expect Ferran to change for you. He loves you, but he is also proud of his heritage. If Ferran hadn’t found you on his travels, he would have returned home obedient and ready to follow my will.” Her smile changed to a frown. “I do wish he had found someone with different skills, however. Howards tells me you are a warrior in all things, and that I cannot ask you to be otherwise for the sake of policy.”

“How are my abilities a matter of policy?”

“One of the caveats to your marriage was that you teach our people, you recall. The moderates insisted upon it. But you cannot teach them what you do not know, and what you know is steeped in humanity’s history of violence.”

“I can instruct in the martial arts without teaching my students how to fight each other,” Jason said. “Even though self-defense really is the point.”

“And that is just my point. A son’s defense is the purview of his mother, and a consort’s defense is the responsibility of his wife. All pups learn Perel ways of protecting themselves, but those are intended to be a last resort.” Grenn steepled her fingers just below the collar of her gown, assuming what looked like a lecturing pose. “Our males used to be creatures of incredible violence. Every problem between families was solved with a duel, and many duels left both the participants dead. Eventually, so many had been killed that the only way to achieve vengeance was through larger, more impersonal attacks.

“That led to the near annihilation of our species, Jason. Very few remain, as compared to the vastness of our former empire. We, the matriarchs, are the only ones who held back the final end, and we continue to lead and provide for our people in what we feel is the most beneficial way.” She paused and then added, “I feel that you wonder about what I mean by beneficial, given the disagreements over your validation yesterday.”

“How deep into me can you read?” Jason asked, not wanting to get too heavily into Perelan’s internal politics yet.

“Deep.” Her thin lips curved up faintly. “I feel your need for control, and how it frustrates you to have so little here. I feel the depth of your love for my son, and that is a good feeling for me to verify. I feel that you are worried about your future, and that you already look forward to your eventual departure.”

Jason didn’t so much as twitch, even though Grenn’s assessment was very accurate. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing that she’d disconcerted him, even though he knew she could feel it anyway.

“You don’t need to worry about my son feeling so much of you,” she said, addressing another of his biggest concerns with a wave of one heavy hand. “Ferran is more empathic than most males, but even he cannot compare to the frailest female. Empathy is an ability we have worked hard to breed into our sons, in an effort to lessen their propensity for destruction. We still have a long way to go, though.”

“Why does he look different from other males?” Jason asked, not caring that it wasn’t a smooth segue. If she could read his emotions, then she could read that he wasn’t in the mood for perfect politesse. He didn’t like dissecting his feelings with the people he loved, and he definitely didn’t feel like having it done for him by a stranger.

“You refer to his coloration?”

Jason nodded.

“It is a genetic anomaly, something that occurs very rarely in our males. It is usually a symbol of a son who has similar gifts to a daughter, and Ferran does. He is intelligent and creative, he is open-minded, and he works hard. Ferran would have made a tremendous matriarch, if he had been raised less deferent. His brother was very similar.”

“Why did his brother kill himself?”

“That,” Grenn said firmly, “is not a question I will answer. Ask another.”

Jason thought for a moment. Then he asked, “Did you plan this?”

It was a question that had been bothering him for weeks. As much as he believed that Ferran truly loved him—and Jason had no doubts about his own feelings—Jason had a hard time believing that one of the leaders of a culture as radically insular as this would simply allow her son, her only son, to marry an alien. And not just marry him, but bring him home and try to assimilate him into the culture. It was too much without there being more in it for Grenn than she had let on.

Grenn chuckled, her grumbling purr even deeper than her son’s. “You are a smart man,” she said at last. “I’m glad Ferran chose for intellect and not simply your pretty face. Not that I think you particularly pretty,” she added, “but those males who have traveled certainly do. My nephews among them.

“I did not plan my son’s infatuation with you,” she continued. “But I’m not sorry that it happened. Ferran has always been a difficult pup to place. He is too sensitive, he is too…. He should have been a daughter,” she said with a discontented twitch of her nose. “That would have allowed him to be in the central position of whatever family he brought to himself. Ferran wants to be everything to everyone, but no one has the energy for that, and he would be destined to fail. With you, though, he can be everything you need—or try at least—and have a chance of succeeding.”

“You’ve put a lot of pressure on him.”

“True,” Grenn admitted somberly. “It is a source of personal shame that I only produced two viable pups myself. Most matriarchs have a dozen over their life, and at least one in that dozen should be a female. I failed in that respect, and so relied even more than I should have on my sons, who also were born with the shame of being infertile. It was easier for Ferran before his brother died, but… now there is only him. My death would have spelled the end of my House, and Ferran would have been assimilated into another family. But now,” Grenn smiled again, and she couldn’t have looked any more smug, “there is you as well. My second son, Ferran’s consort. You put bold new options into play, Jason, and if things go as I hope they will, then the future of Perelan will shift onto a more progressive course.”

“Would you care to explain that?” Jason asked. As an only child himself, he was no stranger to high parental expectations, but there were layers of detail he was simply ignorant of here.

Apparently Grenn wasn’t in the mood to give him any satisfaction on that score, either. “Not yet. It would only confuse you right now. You have much to learn, Jason Kim Howards Grenn, and absolutely no time to waste doing so. I have prepared a schedule for you today.” She passed him an actual piece of paper, with names and times written on it.

“We will start with your abysmal language skills. You need to learn to read and write Perel in addition to understanding it, so you will spend two hours a day in private tutoring with Matriarch Jlinn. She is a sister of my line, and is happy to have the opportunity to work with you. Neyarr and Garrell are responsible for your adaptation to our environment and controlled introduction to our people, so after languages, you will spend your afternoons with them until their wedding to Ylenn prevents them from assisting you. Your human mother wants to see you daily after she is done with Ferran, to see how your integration is progressing. So after my nephews have you, you will be brought to the Council House and seen to there. In the evenings—”

“When am I going to see Ferran?” Jason asked dryly. “I notice that you don’t have that written in.”

“You and my son will share the night and the early morning. Remember, Jason, that he has just as much to learn as you if he is to be validated as Perelan’s ambassador to the Federation after your year here is up. He has classes of his own to attend. Your evenings,” she continued, “will include at least an hour of teaching your least offensive skills—two hours, once you are proficient enough to work with the larger population. We have a thirty hour day,” she reminded him, probably feeling Jason’s disbelief at being able to cram all this in. “It should be sufficient.”

“You’re also nocturnal and sleep until the sun is almost down,” Jason pointed out.

“True. Yesterday, the Council made an exception by meeting with you and Howards during the daytime. Do not worry, though. Your body will adapt. I only use the terms morning, noon, and night because they are what you understand.” Grenn stood to her full height—not even as high as Jason’s shoulder—and raised her chin proudly. “Soon you will understand our words for the many phases of night. Never fear, my son, your ignorance will diminish quickly with the help of your new family. Now, we must get you to Matriarch Jlinn.” She turned toward the gong sitting beside her chair.

“Wait,” Jason said. Grenn stopped and looked at him. “I have a meeting scheduled with you every day. Is that really necessary?”

“How else can I judge your progress?” Grenn asked. “Who else will you ask the difficult questions? Naturally, we must meet. I look forward to learning more about you, Jason.” She rang the gong, and the reverberations traveled through its base and out from the floor.

A moment later someone knocked on the door.

“Be welcome.”

Neyarr entered, looking entirely too entertained. “Matriarch?”

“Take Jason to his language lesson.”

“Yes, Matriarch.” He nodded respectfully, then tapped a foot and stared at Jason until Jason took the hint and stood up.

“And the communicator?” Jason persisted. “For getting in touch with Ferran?”

“It will be delivered to your den this evening,” Grenn promised. “Along with one for him. Good-bye, my son. Have a productive day.”

“I will.”

As soon as the door shut behind them, Neyarr’s barely restrained excitement won out over his dutifulness. The ends of his ears quivered with energy, and his quills were flexing and relaxing along his spine like a wave. “What did she say?”

“A lot.”

“About what?” Neyarr asked eagerly, leading Jason down a hall. This one was painted in shades of orange, peach, and pink, and the light seemed to pulse through it. It reminded Jason uncomfortably of a womb. “What did she say about your classes? What will you be teaching us?”

“I don’t think anyone knows yet,” Jason sighed. “I didn’t get much of a chance to prepare anything.”

“I thought that would be a challenge for you,” Neyarr said knowingly as he led Jason through the large audience chamber. It was empty now, lit only with dim fungal glows. They threaded between the tables and headed down another hallway. Not for the first time since his arrival, Jason wished all of these tunnels had numbers or something. The last thing he wanted was to become lost. “You are not toothless. You would not be much fun if you were, but the Council only wants gentleness from you, not ferocity.”

“I’m not ferocious,” Jason protested. He truly wasn’t, despite his extracurricular activities. He had never, not since he was a small child, truly lost control of himself. Jason always prided himself on his reserve and his capacity for self-policing—for being able to interact with anyone and avoid losing his temper, no matter how obnoxious or offensive they were.

“Not yet,” Neyarr replied knowingly. “But you could be. Ferran knows it, and I’m sure his mother does.”

“And how do you know it?” Jason asked.

“My brother and I are Ferran’s closest friends. Who else would he open his heart to while you two were apart?” They stopped outside of a door with a glowing circle above it. “This is Matriarch Jlinn’s instruction hall. You are fortunate to have her—she was going to return to the space station last month, but Matriarch Grenn asked for her to stay, for your sake. She may beat you a little, but only because she wants you to improve.”

“Did she beat you?” Jason asked, not sure he believed any of these pampered children had ever been smacked in their lives.

Neyarr grinned. “All the time.”

THE INSTRUCTION hall was an even golden tone and built so that noise resonated within it. Matriarch Jlinn was a slightly taller, slightly thinner version of Grenn, but the terseness of her voice and the stiffness of her posture were clear indicators that she wasn’t entirely happy to be there. The thin, whippy rod in her hand was the other indicator, and she didn’t stint to lay it down across the back of Jason’s hands or the points of his shoulders. It didn’t really hurt, but it felt like a tool meant for recalcitrant children, and Jason didn’t like being included in that group.

“Too bad,” Jlinn snapped, not even bothering to conceal that she was reading Jason’s emotions. He hadn’t even needed to speak to set her off. She had the most human-sounding voice of any Perel he’d ever met, which clearly spoke to her abilities, but it didn’t make him appreciate her any more. “You have less skill than an infant! You must pull the sounds from your diaphragm and let them out slowly, not overwhelm them with breath.”

“I am,” Jason said evenly.

“You are not, and I should know. Look, this is the word.” She wrote it on a tablet and handed it over to him. The symbols that Perels used to write were similar to the way Korean sounds were grouped into blocks that made symbols, and Jason thought he could figure them out fairly quickly. He copied it down when she impatiently tapped the tablet.

“Good. Now speak it.” She let the word rumble out of her throat. Jason tried to mimic her, but after the first two syllables, Jlinn’s disgust was back.

“No! Your human mother speaks Perel better than you, and her voice is a full octave higher!” She straightened her shoulders and looked squarely at Jason. “I will not go easy on you simply because my matriarch thinks well of you. You will shame your new family to be heard speaking this way.”

“I’ve only been here for a day,” Jason pointed out.

“And you should have been given to me when you first arrived!” She slapped his forearm with the rod. “Again.”

And so it went. Two hours stretched into three, Jlinn absolutely refusing to let Jason leave until he had pronounced at least one word correctly. He went with hello, thinking it would be the most useful in the short term. And while it left his throat feeling like someone had stuck an ion welder down his mouth and jostled it between his tonsils, he did eventually get hello to an acceptable level of gruff.

“Practice tonight,” Jlinn admonished him as he stood up. “Tomorrow you will repeat it for me perfectly, or you will suffer it again.”

Suffering words. It certainly did feel like suffering, having to force those words through his throat. Jason wondered if Jlinn had any idea just how accurate her description was for him. He left her to an incoming group of pups, who blushed up to the tips of their ears when they saw him.

“You are such a celebrity,” Neyarr teased him as they headed into the audience chamber. It seemed to double as the dining room, but his extra hour spent with Jlinn meant that Jason had missed the rush. It was just him and Ney, and fortunately, Ney was in the mood to be kind. He got Jason a plate of dark brown grain, covered with a green and red sauce that was only slightly slimy, and a cup of the milky tea that seemed to accompany most Perel meals. Jason liked the taste of it—slightly nutty and a little sweet.

“Where does it come from?”

“Sap,” Neyarr replied, sipping from his own cup. “From the lhossa tree. Every family taps and brews their own. The House of Grenn brews it the sweetest, because our matriarch likes it that way.”

“Everyone drinks their tea the same way as the matriarch?” Jason asked. “Just because she likes it like that?”

“In her house, tea is drunk her way. The foods we eat are her preferences.” Neyarr frowned a little. “Is there nothing like this where you come from?”

“The military is similar,” Jason said, remembering meal replacement bars whenever they were deployed. “But at home there’s usually a little more variety.”

“The children are served separately, given the things that will make them strong, but for the rest of us… if we want to eat differently, we must go out.” He grinned suddenly. “We can walk to the Council House this evening. There are restaurants and teahouses in the city center that provide variety. Do you have any money yet?”

“Not that I know of.”

“That’s all right. Every restaurant runs a tab for each different family, and no one will refuse to serve a member of the House of Grenn, not even…. And you’ll be able to try out your new words.”

“I have a translation device for a reason,” Jason pointed out, but it was a half-hearted protest. He knew he needed to practice speaking Perel, but he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“It is raining,” Neyarr said, smoothly ignoring Jason’s moment of pique. “You will need something more than these clothes. A… slicker? Is it called a slicker?”

“That’s one word for it.”

“There is a spare for you in my den. Garr is there as well. He can come to town with us. It would be better for you to have an escort right now.”

Jason sat back and looked at the young Perel sitting across from him. Neyarr was trying to act as though everything was fine, but Jason had lived long enough that he knew when someone was keeping something from him. “Neyarr, what could go wrong if I went into Berenze without you?”

“Nothing,” Neyarr said quickly. “No one would dare hurt you.”

“But they might do other things. Like refuse to serve me? Refuse to speak to me? Point me in the wrong direction if I got lost?”

Neyarr was flushing now, dropping his eyes.

Jason sighed and then reached over and touched Neyarr’s hand. “It’s okay if that’s what will happen. I just need to know the truth. I need to be prepared for the worst if I can’t have you or your brother or Ferran with me.” He paused for a moment and then added, “I don’t expect everyone to like me, Ney, and it won’t bother me if that’s the case.”

The use of his nickname seemed to soothe Neyarr, who lifted his eyes again and shrugged slightly. “Some people are upset by you. They don’t think you belong here. Others don’t object to humans, per se, but they disagreed with….” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Disagreed with the matriarch’s decision to give her son to you. Garrell told you that Ferran’s marriage contract would be worth a great deal, didn’t he?” Jason nodded. “The families who were offering for him were upset to see him given to an alien—especially the House of Tlann. They are not happy with the matriarch or with you.”

“What does not happy mean?” Jason asked, but Neyarr was already shaking his head.

“We have already lost time. It will take over an hour to walk to the Council House, and your next appointment is in only two hours.” He stood up and took Jason’s cup away. “Let’s go get Garrell.”

THE TWINS’ den was very different from Ferran’s at first glance. The colors were almost all shades of red, and there were no couches, just growths jutting out of the floor like beanbags, furniture that could be completely remodeled with a hard enough push. They did have a holo emitter set into one wall, something that Jason hadn’t expected, and Garrell was watching a human romance movie when Jason and Neyarr arrived.

“Larissa Child,” Jason noted. “That one’s a classic of hers.”

“She is very pretty,” Garrell said. “For a human.”

“We have most of her movies,” Neyarr added as he sat down next to his brother and kissed his cheek. “We have to watch them all before the wedding.”

“Because afterwards, you’ll be too busy?”

“Afterwards, we won’t be allowed,” Garrell grumbled, making Ney pull on the ends of his ears.

“Our future wife is more conservative than our matriarch,” Neyarr explained to Jason. “Her mother is a moderate on the Council. Our marriage contract will allow us to keep a certain amount of time free to continue educating you, and to receive knowledge from you in turn, but alien items used solely for entertainment are not allowed.”

“What about educational films?”

“Those are boring,” Garrell sniffed.

Neyarr said something to his brother—slowly, so that Jason could hear it. “Enough. It’s time to go. Jason needs a slicker.”

“Give him one of yours.”

“Don’t be a—” The last word was garbled but Jason could gather what it meant. Garrell stood up and went back into another room. When he came out again, he had three dark green, baggy suits that reminded Jason of hazmat gear. Jason took his and looked at it impassively before glancing up at the twins.

Garrell started laughing. “It changes when it gets wet. Don’t worry, you won’t look like a slime.”

“A what?”

“A slime,” Neyarr said.

“Which is a what, exactly?”

“You don’t have slimes on your world?”

“We do,” Jason said cautiously, “but the most they usually amount to is cellular masses in growth dishes. What are yours like?”

“They are a type of animal,” Neyarr explained, “that lives in the forests. Harmless. They only eat the dead.”

“Much better to run into a slime than a… a… scissor mouth?” Garrell said slowly, questioningly, as though he were working through the translation in his mind. “That is a type of plant that hangs in the lowest branches of the tallest trees. It feels the heat of an animal beneath it, and its mouth drops down from the branch and latches on, so fast. Its leaves are like scissors and cut into the animal, so it can inject its venom. The animal falls asleep, and then the scissor mouth hauls it up to the branch and dissolves it. The hardest bones become part of its root system. These plants were greatly feared in our past.”

“Fascinating” was all Jason could think to say. Harmless slimy animals and giant carnivorous plants. Jason had gotten survival training while he was in the military, but he had never been the sort of person to seek out nature on its own terms. That was the wonderful thing about living on Jacksonville: nature came to you, and you could watch it rage at you from the comfort of your own home.

The quickest way outside was up, and the twins showed Jason a set of stairs in the back entrance that led to a garden on the surface. The sky was dark, but Jason could clearly see each and every flower and vine, all of them limned with their own special brands of phosphorescence. Before he could turn to see more, the baggy suit reacted to the rain, shrinking rapidly until it was tight to his skin and clothes. Only his face and hands were still visible. The twins watched him and snickered at his surprise.

“I did tell you,” Garrell said smugly. “This is the House of Grenn’s public garden. The exit over there leads to the street, which we can follow to the center of the city. We aren’t so far away, really.”

“Can you see all right?” Neyarr asked.

Jason looked around again, avoiding the glowing plants for darker sections of the night. “Well enough, I think. You won’t have to carry me.”

“Although we could if you wanted us too,” Neyarr offered with a smile as they set out.

“I’m fine,” Jason said firmly. “But keep speaking in Perel, please. The more you say, the more my translator will improve its speech recognition.”

“And the more you will be prepared to face Matriarch Jlinn tomorrow,” Garrell added slyly. But they obliged him, pointing out different plants and giving Jason their names, telling him the words for street, path, building, restaurant, and shuttle.

The air was filled with sound. Very little of it was the kind Jason was used to, the low-level hum that came from the complex machinery that powered most of human society. There were animal calls in the night, the chirping of insects, and the rustling of high branches that moved in a wind Jason could barely feel from his position on the ground. He stared up at the sky for a moment. Somewhere up there, Jason knew, were stars. He wondered if he’d ever actually see them from Perelan.

They kept moving along the street, which appeared to be solely for pedestrians. There were plenty of other people walking there as well, but Jason couldn’t make out any distinguishing features in the dim light. The twins had no such problem, greeting almost everyone who went by. They stopped a few times, but no one spoke directly to Jason, and he didn’t feel the need to reach out quite yet, not when he could barely see whom he was speaking to.

“You’re doing fine,” Garrell whispered to Jason after one of their brief interactions.

Jason smiled slightly. “Do I feel nervous to you?”

“Just a bit.” Garrell indicated the door of the next teahouse. They had briefly visited two already, but hadn’t stayed long enough to drink. The teahouses had tunnel entrances that opened out on the street, and the interiors were decidedly intimate and even darker than outside. They smelled incredible, though. “Do you want to try here? There will be fewer people.”

“How do you know that?” Jason asked.

“Because this tea house belongs to Srell. And Srell is not very popular this close to the House of Grenn.”

“She is not a supporter of Grenn’s policies,” Neyarr added. “But her House makes excellent tea. Very spicy.”

“Let’s try it, then.”

True to his word, Srell’s teahouse had only one other Perel in it, and that was the male brewing the tea in a large urn with multiple spigots on the sides. His eyes widened as the trio came inside. “Welcome… brothers.” This Perel was older than the other males that Jason had seen, slightly more drawn, and didn’t look at all pleased to have them in his shop.

“Thank you,” Neyarr said. “Three cups, please.”

“Of course.” The male moved slowly, filling three stoneware cups and placing them on a low counter. Garrell passed the cups around, and the two Perels began to drink instantly, with every sign of enjoyment. Jason held his cup in his hands for a moment, surprised to find that he liked the feel of the heat radiating from it, even though he was sweating inside of his slicker. He closed his eyes and sipped. The spice was intense, not at all mitigated by sweetness. It tickled in his throat and made him want to cough, but he swallowed the urge back.

When he opened his eyes, the unnamed Perel was staring at him intently, as though he had seen him before, but didn’t know where. Jason knew he’d never met this male before in his life. He tried out the word that Matriarch Jlinn had tried so hard to pound into his throat earlier. “Hello.”

The male’s eyebrows rose a little, and Jason realized the harshness of the tea was actually helping him in this case. The male didn’t respond, though, and Jason set the cup down after his first sip.

“He spoke to you,” Garrell said after a moment, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Are you mute, that you do not respond?”

“I heard nothing,” the male replied calmly, “but the grunt of an animal.”

“We shall leave,” Garrell said in the Federation tongue. His tone was frosty. He and his brother set their cups down as well, and a moment later they were down the tunnel hall and out the door.

“Rude,” Neyarr said, and his voice was very nearly a hiss.

“Not unexpected,” Garrell reminded him, but he looked apologetically at Jason. “I am sorry if that caused you discomfort, though.”

“It didn’t,” Jason replied, and he was being absolutely honest. “If that’s the worst I ever have to deal with, I’ll consider it a win.”

“It won’t be,” Neyarr growled, but Garrell smacked his arm, and he quieted down.

“Not here,” Garrell said.

“Later, then,” Jason agreed. He could tell it wasn’t a subject that either of the twins wanted to discuss, and he was content to let it slip by the wayside for now. Discrimination was inevitable. He only hoped it stayed low-key enough that Ferran didn’t hear about it. The last thing his husband needed right now was something else to worry about.

Chapter Seven

A FEW minutes later, Jason and the twins arrived at the Council House. Before they could reach the audience chamber, they were waylaid by Penelope, looking sharp and calm in bright blue silk. “The Council is currently in session and can’t be disturbed, but your mother is waiting for you in a side chamber.”

The number of mothers Jason had was a little dizzying. “I’ll follow you, then. Is Ferran there?”

“Ferran’s work with Ambassador Howards has finished, and he is awaiting his mother’s pleasure in her private rooms.”

“We’ll go to him,” Neyarr said. He took his brother’s arm and headed away down the hall. Jason turned back to Penelope, who inclined her head slightly and gestured to the right.

“This way.” The rest of their walk—and it was fairly long, down halls that weren’t nearly so elaborately decorated—was a silent one. The slicker became looser and looser on his body, until Jason finally stopped to pull it free. Penelope didn’t say anything; she just waited with a look in her eyes that somehow took the place of a tapping toe. Jason folded the wet fabric into a small roll and straightened his tunic before raising his eyes again. The rest of the walk was mercifully brief.

“Jason!” Giselle was right there the moment the door to the side chamber opened, smiling broadly. She took his arm and pulled him inside. Penelope didn’t follow him. “How was your first night in your new home?”

“Fine.” And even if it hadn’t been, Giselle wasn’t the one Jason was going to be complaining to.

“Good. Grenn and I spoke this morning, and she speaks very well of you. You’ve made a good first impression.”

“That’s what I do.”

“Funny man. Dori wants a look at you.” She made way for her physician, who came out from behind her and cupped Jason’s face impatiently. Jason jerked back, surprised out of his normal imperturbability for a moment.

“Oh, hush. I’m just checking for any sign of allergic reactions,” Dori tutted. “Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and say ah.”

“No.”

“Close enough. No spots, no discoloration….” He felt Jason’s lymph nodes. “No swelling. Anything else I should know about? Strange reactions to food, loose bowel movements, erectile dysfunction—”

“Stop,” Jason said firmly, pulling Dori’s hands down. “I’m fine. And besides, I’ve only been here for a day. How is that enough time for you to determine whether I’m going to stay healthy in this environment or not?”

“It isn’t,” Dori agreed. “That’s why I’m going to have to examine you on a daily basis for the next little while.”

“Just until you get your feet under you,” Giselle added.

Jason looked back and forth between the two of them. He had the suspicion that he was being effectively tag-teamed into doing something kind of underhanded. “I don’t need a medical checkup every day. Why are you saying that I do?”

“Because,” Giselle said, frowning in annoyance, “I’m operating under very tight constraints. The Council is concerned about the repercussions of our relationship and the ways in which it might affect your smooth transition into Perel society.” She snorted. “Which is a fancy way of saying the Solitarians don’t trust Grenn and me not to issue open invitations to every human in the system now that you’re here, and are doing their damnedest to slow everything down to a crawl.”

Jason raised one eyebrow at her and glanced around, but Giselle waved his concerns away. “Penelope set up a jammer. We can’t be heard electronically, and she’s in the adjoining room, monitoring for life signs creeping a little too close. We can speak freely for now.”

“It’s a bad habit to get into.”

It was Giselle’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Is there some part of your military history that I’m missing, Jason? How much do you know about tradecraft?”

“I was never a spy,” he assured her. “I just pay attention.”

“Good. That might save your life someday.”

Dori, after taking Jason’s pulse, finally let go of him. Jason sat down on one of the strange, organic chairs and looked hard at Giselle. “Do you know something that I need to hear?”

She shook her head firmly. “Just a general warning. Before your arrival, things promised to be difficult here, but the conservative party has come out far more vocally against you than any of us had anticipated. Are you sure you can’t teach tai chi? Meditation isn’t active enough, but maybe yoga? It would be a help.”

“I don’t know either of those.” Inadequacies appearing where Jason had sworn he had none disconcerted him, but he was doing his best to roll with the punches. Although around here, if he threw any punches, he’d probably be arrested. “When is my teaching demonstration scheduled for?”

“The end of the week. It’s solely for the Council and their nearest kin. Do you have something planned for it?” The prospect of Jason teaching martial arts had turned into a particular sticking point for Giselle. While he couldn’t be overtly aggressive, he also couldn’t be too mild, or no one would want to take his classes, and his lack of expertise would shame his mothers. No pressure.

Jason just shrugged. “I plan on performing some kata. I won’t be wielding a sword or tossing around throwing knives, so don’t look so worried.”

Giselle didn’t look at all soothed. “Can you act? You could do a dramatic reading.”

“Stop trying to help, please. It’s going to be fine.” Jason did have an idea of what he could do to make it more interesting, but he hadn’t manufactured the things he needed or even had time to practice yet, and he didn’t want to make a liar out of himself. What he really wanted was his husband’s opinion on his idea. “Where’s Ferran?”

“Still with Grenn, probably.”

“What did you two do today?”

Giselle smiled a little. “You should ask him about that. I think he’s got some questions he wants to run by you. He has a lot to learn about the wider universe.”

“I could be a bigger help to him if we worked with you together,” Jason pointed out. “It’s the same with my classes. He could help me with my pronunciation and with getting around in Berenze, and I could help him learn the nuances of different human cultures.”

Giselle was shaking her head before he finished. “No, Jason. Part of this year is a trial of both of your characters. You have to be able to adequately cope without each other if this is going to work for Perelan. The matriarchs need to know that Ferran won’t be ruled by your opinion when it comes to protecting their interests abroad, and you have to prove your personal integrity and your devotion to your new life without the constant reminder that your husband would provide.”

“So we’re sacrificing both efficiency and effectiveness for the sake of political jealousy.”

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Giselle warned him. “I never promised this would be easy, Jason. You had your first chance to refuse, and you don’t get your last one for another year.”

There was a part of Jason buried deep inside his soul that he didn’t acknowledge very often. It was the part that thrilled when he held a naked blade, the part that woke him up screaming when he was afraid as a child and panting and breathless as an adult. It was the part where he harbored his darkest energies, the kinds of thoughts and feelings that he knew would spell ruin if he ever let them out. It was the primal, burning part of him, the part he usually kept under control with the meditation he hadn’t had time for, and that part was clenched tight like a fist, using ruthless logic to deconstruct the craziness he was getting into and pointing out just how foolish so much of it was.

This part of him flared with resentment that he could barely identify, much less understand. This part of him wanted to take his husband, tell all the interfering parties to fuck off, and fly off into the anonymity provided by hundreds of worlds in a dozen different galaxies.

The rest of him tamped it down, and after a second, Jason could barely feel it pressing at the back of his mind. He didn’t say anything, just stared coolly at Giselle until she sighed. “I’m sorry this is becoming so complicated.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s not, but I do understand that it isn’t what you’d like right now.” Suddenly, her usual energy seemed to reinfuse her, and Giselle sat forward. “Being the first to do something is never easy, especially not when so many eyes are on you, watching and assessing every move you make. But when it’s done right, the benefit of your sacrifices to subsequent generations is immeasurable, Jason. This isn’t just for humankind—this isn’t even mostly for humankind. This is for the Perels themselves, to help them modernize and move on in a way that would have been inconceivable when Grenn was a pup.”

Jason smiled a little at her earnestness. “Do you have these pep talks written down somewhere? Do you practice them in the mirror?”

“Damn right I do,” Giselle shot back. “You can never be too prepared, Jason, especially not when it comes to how you go about influencing others. Now, then. Do you feel better?”

Come to think of it, he did feel a little better, the fever in his subconscious cooled somewhat. “Yes.”

“Good.” The pep talk might have continued, but a chime sounded a moment later, and Grenn entered the room, followed by Ferran and Penelope. Jason locked his eyes on his husband, taking in the dispirited slump of his shoulders and his lowered eyes. That simmering fever inside of Jason receded even further as a desire to comfort enveloped him. He wanted to take Ferran into his arms right now and tell everyone else that they needed some time alone, but before he could even move, Grenn was speaking.

“It would please me if you and your entourage would join me at my house for a meal tonight,” Grenn said politely to Giselle.

“We would be honored,” Giselle replied, standing with regal elegance.

“My personal shuttle is waiting for us. All of us,” Grenn added. “We can go together, as a family.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Jason personally disagreed, but at least by the time they were in the shuttle, he was sitting next to Ferran. His husband wasn’t looking at him, but he did lean into Jason’s side, and when Jason took his hand and squeezed, Ferran squeezed back instantly. He barely loosened his grip for the rest of the trip back to the house.

DINNER AS a family apparently included eating with the entire House of Grenn in the audience chamber, and there was no chance for Jason to eat more than a few bites of something that tasted like an overcooked mushroom in vinegar between questions from his youngest relatives and gamely practicing his Perel with them. Apparently his pronunciation was a little better, because Grennson and three other small pups were throwing new words at Jason faster than his translator could make them out by the time Grenn called an end to the meal.

Then there were the ritual good nights, which Jason rushed through, a few minutes of necessary ribbing from the twins about the two of them being ready for bed, and finally, finally, Jason and Ferran were alone in their den.

And Jason had no idea what to say. How was your day? was the standard, he knew, but asking that had always seemed to piss Blake off more than it gave Jason credit for showing interest. He finally settled on “Are you all right?”

It seemed to be the right thing, because a moment later, Ferran was in his arms. “I don’t know anything,” Ferran rumbled disconsolately. “Nothing about the proper way to greet delegations, or how to say hello to them based upon rank, or what the first topic of a formal but unofficial conversation should be…. It is so hard to remember it all!”

“Is that what you went through with Giselle?”

“And with Matriarch Jlinn. And Matriarch Hrekk.”

“Who is Matriarch Hrekk?”

“She works with the other delegations, the Dorn and the Mazi.” Ferran’s quills sharpened and feathered rapidly for a moment. “She is very demanding.”

“I know the feeling.”

Ferran pulled back a little. “Are you all right?”

Jason thought about his day, about the small moments of strangeness and the odd sensation of being treated like a schoolboy again, but none of that was really material. “I’m fine.” He kissed Ferran and then said, “Show me your studio.”

Immediately, Ferran’s eyes brightened, and his quills softened to silky smoothness again. “It is a beautiful place. Come.” He led the way into a large, dark room that lit slowly from the ground up. The walls were painted like the ones in the Council chamber, but these were done in bright greens and blues and yellows, and the patterns embedded in the color weren’t so much defined as hinted at—whimsical swirls and drifts within a mesmerizing whole.

Jason turned a slow circle, vaguely aware of Ferran removing protective cloths from several tables and an easel. There was the skylight, which was still mostly dark and would probably stay that way even when the sun rose. Jason resolved to take Ferran up into the garden sometime soon and watch the sunrise with him. Even if it was just a bare change of color in the blurry sky, it would be something that they could do together that would remind Jason of home.

Jason finally tore his eyes away and looked over at Ferran, who was watching him with a pleased expression on his face. “Did you do all of this?”

“Oh, no. My brother did much of it. And this was once our father’s den, and some of it, he made.” Ferran stared contentedly at the vaulted ceiling. “Veyall was two litters ahead of me. We were never in school together, but we could spend time together in here. He taught me many things. He was a good brother.”

“I’m sure he was.”

“I always wanted more siblings, but I have a large extended family. They are good to me.” Ferran held out a hand, and Jason joined him at the table.

An unfinished painting done on an oval piece of wood lay on the smooth surface. It was so jarring to look at that Jason had to blink once, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. The background was obsidian black, cut through with jagged shapes in bright red and deep purple. It was beautiful, but completely incongruous. “Did you do this?”

“After my brother died,” Ferran affirmed. He stared down at it solemnly, only a sliver of amber iris showing through his long lashes. “By the time I got this far, I did not hurt so much anymore, but I didn’t know what to do with it then.” He looked for another long moment, then moved on to the next table. The painting there was unfinished, just a dark blue circle spreading out into grasping tendrils that crawled across the page.

“What about this one?” Jason asked, slipping his arm around Ferran’s waist.

“I began it when my mother told me to whom she intended to betroth me.”

“It doesn’t look happy,” Jason noted.

“It isn’t necessarily sad,” Ferran said. “I respect the matriarch my mother had in mind for me, but I was not prepared for everything to be so… final. My mother agreed to wait until my return to finalize the engagement, and it was very fortunate that she did.”

“Yes, it was.” Jason leaned in and brushed his lips along the edge of Ferran’s ear, smiling at the sudden flush of color in it. “Because now you’re mine.”

“Yes,” Ferran purred huskily. “And you are mine.” He touched the painting again and then turned away from it and into Jason’s arms. “I will make a new painting for you.”

“Hmm….” Jason wanted to fall into his lover’s very eager embrace, but the sight of the paintings reminded him of one of the things needed Ferran’s help with. “Actually… can we talk for a moment?”

Ferran sighed but obligingly stopped grinding himself against Jason’s thigh.

“I need your help with my demonstration at the end of the week.”

“Of course!” Ferran smiled brilliantly at Jason, who was suddenly very glad he’d asked. “What do you need?”

“I need you to paint something for me, and I need you to help me with rendering it three-dimensional. And,” he winced a little, “I need you to help me talk Neyarr and Garrell into letting me take apart their holo emitter. Temporarily.”

“How will this help you do kata?” Ferran asked. He’d seen Jason do some simple forms back on Jacksonville, but nothing like what Jason planned on showing his admirers and detractors here.

“It will add an extra visual element. I’ll just have to show you,” Jason said. He went back into their bedroom and took his mobile holo out of a bag, looking at it a little ruefully. It would have to give its emitters for the cause as well, but Jason was confident he’d get it working again. Ferran came and joined Jason on the bed, and Jason pulled up an image of a Korean dragon. “I need something that evokes this image. I don’t know if you can be this specific, with your emphasis on working with abstracts.”

Ferran stared avidly at the picture. “You have these on your world?”

Jason laughed. “No, they’re a myth. Dragons were protectors and guardians of the kingdom. Lesser dragons had three claws, greater dragons had four. The greater ones were omnipotent, and they flew, even though they don’t have any wings, as you can see.”

“It’s very beautiful,” Ferran said. “We have nothing in our history such as this. Some demons that live beneath the ground, but very few things that are beneficial. Everything good comes from family.”

“Human history is riddled with myths and legends. Every culture is different. I’ll tell you some of those stories sometime—I always loved them as a child.”

“I want to know all about what you love,” Ferran murmured, and his voice was suddenly low again, more than interested in picking up where they left off.

“Do you now?”

“Yesss,” his husband purred, setting the holo aside and pushing Jason onto his back.

“You had questions you wanted to ask me,” Jason said around kisses, wondering why he was bothering to bring it up when Ferran was lavishing attention on his neck.

“They will wait.”

“And we need your cousins’… the holo….”

“That will wait as well,” Ferran promised him, opening his shirt. Warm lips traced a path down his collarbone and the center of his chest before moving to linger over his heart. Puffs of warm air flowed over Jason’s nipple in time with his heartbeat, eventually replaced by Ferran’s tongue. The fatigue of the day seemed to evaporate as Jason lost himself to the rhythm of his husband’s ministrations. His husband. His.

The primal, possessive fire that Jason had banked earlier flared anew, and after a minute of fighting it, he switched their positions and pushed Ferran farther back onto the bed, so that his body sank into the too-soft bedding. Jason’s grip was heavy as he ran his hands over Ferran’s limbs, touching everything he could reach and clinging to it, almost like he had suction in his fingers and palms. Smooth skin and strong muscle were unveiled as they rid Ferran of his clothes, and then there was nothing in Jason’s mind but owning his lover, touching him over and over again until all Ferran could think about was him.

It didn’t take long. Ferran was primed for handling, as eager to work through tension as Jason after the first full day they’d had, and he reveled in his husband’s attention, purring and mewling and arching into every touch. Jason barely had time to touch his mouth to the tip of Ferran’s cock before he came, and the taste of it just made Jason hungry for more. He licked his lover clean and straightened up, and then Ferran sat up and pulled him forward, pulled his pants open, and swallowed him down to the root.

Jason was utterly incoherent, barely able to manage more than Ferran’s name in between desperate, breathy syllables before clenching his mouth shut over his restless groaning. God, it was incredible how deep Ferran could take him—something that spoke of experience, but Jason ignored that in favor of how insanely fucking good his husband’s mouth felt, tongue just this side of too rough and sweetly avoiding the head, which Ferran had swallowed down his throat anyway….

Jason gasped and came, bending over and dropping his head between his outstretched hands. It was so tempting to collapse, but he couldn’t do it—he wouldn’t until he withdrew from Ferran’s warm, wet grip and lay on his side next to him. Ferran immediately cuddled in close, and Jason gave up the mental fight over getting up and cleaning off before it could even begin. He was tired, he had his lover in his arms, and for now, it felt like his whole world was right.

Everything else would wait until tomorrow.

Chapter Eight

THE HISTORICAL circadian rhythm of a human being was attuned to a twenty-four hour day, with a fairly regular lapse and relapse of day into night throughout the year. As humanity left Earth to travel and populate the wider universe, their biorhythms had to be forcibly adjusted to a life beyond the planet of their origin. Humans, being a highly flexible species, were able to adapt to the demands of almost any new environment with time, if not ease. As medical assistance became better, men and women were given drugs to help adjust their bodies to new times and places, and eventually, over hundreds of generations, that rapid adaptability was bred into them.

That ingrained ability to stretch nature to adapt to a new environment, backed by decades of military discipline, was all that was keeping Jason on his feet a week into life on Perelan. The medications that would have helped him adjust better to the time difference were contraindicated when he was already on so many drugs to help him live in the more acidic environment. In addition, the hours he would have managed to sleep were broken up by the need to ready his demonstration for the Council of Matriarchs and their families—and there was a lot to do for that. Jason had cannibalized Dori and Giselle’s holo emitters along with his own and the twins’, and he still wasn’t sure it was giving him the effect he wanted, but by the ninth day, there was no more time for planning.

Jason supposed he should have been grateful for the nine-day week giving him more time than he’d expected to practice and plan, but he was too stuck on wired to handle much calm reflection.

Katas could be performed as a moving meditation, and that was how Jason generally liked to do them, but this time, he had to perform with utter intent through the whole thing. It was a variation on an ancient Korean form, linear and straightforward, but he was doing it with a jang bong, a long staff. It wasn’t a weapon he was incredibly familiar with, but it was the easiest one to add holo emitters to. Jason was more comfortable with a sword, but according to Ferran, it wouldn’t be a smart political move. So he practiced with the staff, adding spins and twists that made him wince internally, but which he knew would look intriguing when paired with the holographic image he and Ferran had prepared.

As long as it all worked. As long as none of the emitters failed, as long as the smoke flowed the way it was supposed to, as long as Jason didn’t trip and stumble over his own feet trying to do a kick that he hadn’t really worked on since he was in his teens….

The list of things that needed to go right was more than a little daunting. Coupled with the fact that he hadn’t had time to sleep deeply or do more with his husband than engage in pure stress relief lately, let alone meditate, it made it difficult for Jason not to snap at his teachers on the day of his demonstration. He tried to take refuge the way that worked best for him, in silence, but Jlinn was having none of that.

“You are not enunciating,” she snapped after Jason’s fifth try on the word here. “The first consonant must reverberate in your chest if you are to have the slightest hope of producing it well. You sound like a sickly pup.”

“I’ll do better.”

“You will not do better if you do not try to do better. And you are not trying at all right now.”

Jason clenched his jaw and exhaled slowly. “I have a lot on my mind at the moment.”

“You should not be wasting your effort worrying about the future when there is nothing you can do to affect it.”

“Everything I do affects the future,” Jason said evenly. “That’s the whole reason you’re teaching me Perel in the first place, to help shape the future. Immediate and long-term future, in fact, for myself and my consort and possibly for this entire planet. So please don’t ask me to dismiss my thoughts as unimportant when really I could care less about how I roll my r’s when entering into an interrogative versus a declarative. It simply isn’t registering with me right now.”

Tired brown eyes met affronted amber for a moment before Jlinn, to Jason’s surprise, sat back and nodded in understanding. “I do see what you mean. I don’t pretend to fully understand your situation, Jason Kim Howards Grenn, but I do know that if you constantly look to what others expect of you, you will never expect anything of yourself. There is a speech that I give to pups on the cusp of adulthood, and I know, I know,” she held up a hand, palm out, “you have been a human adult for many years, but here I think there is a parallel. If anything, it is more appropriate for you, because you have so much to learn and yet are used to expecting so much of yourself. Are you ready for my speech?”

Jason resigned himself to a lengthy lecture. “Yes.”

Jlinn theatrically cleared her throat, folded her hands beneath her chin and said, with great gravity, “Get over yourself.”

Jason waited for more. When nothing else was forthcoming, he blinked as if waking up out of a doze. “Is that it?”

“Yes. Did you like it?”

“It was very… succinct.”

“Short is good when you are trying to penetrate the skull of an adolescent. Everything is drama, life is all upheaval, and nothing shall ever be the same. One moment there is fear, the next moment there is laughter, and following that is anger. It is all fleeting, even for the most precious and pampered of pups, so it is good to remember that the focus should be on the moment when it can be. If you are lucky, there will always be time to worry about the future.” Jlinn smiled at him.

Jason grinned back at her, an actual wide grin that felt good on skin accustomed to impassivity. “Thank you. I do see the parallel, even though I can’t really find it very flattering.”

“I will never flatter you. I will give you my honesty, though, and my honest opinion is that you are a good student, even if you are a somewhat hopeless one.” She unfolded her hands and grabbed her rod up again, ready to smack his hand. “Now. Say it again.”

PITHY AS it was, Jlinn’s speech did help Jason unbend a bit for the rest of the day. The demonstration was to be held in Grenn’s audience chamber, and matriarchs and their families were being seated now. The limits of his space were clearly demarcated, and Garrell and Neyarr were there making sure no one stepped over the lines, because, as Ney put it, “We cannot let some fool break our holo emitter further, and you had better be able to put it back together, Jason, or else.”

Jason checked the projectors on the staff one last time and then closed his eyes and ran the form through his head again before heading out. He was dressed in a white dobok, which would make him a mobile surface to project the holograms onto while he performed if the smoke wasn’t everything he hoped it would be. He could hear Ferran introducing him beyond the door, but he didn’t really listen to the words.

Some people used fear to motivate themselves: fear of failure, fear of disappointment…. Fear was one of the things that drove Ferran. Jason wasn’t motivated by fear, but by the pursuit of personal perfection. Even after his husband opened the back door to the audience chamber and escorted him in, Jason didn’t really look at the crowd. They were immaterial. All that mattered was movement, concentration, and timing.

A faint miasma of smoke drifted through the chamber—just enough to provide a background for the steady stream of diaphanous blackness that seemed to pour from the end of Jason’s staff as he held it out to the side. This particular kata had been designed, like all of them, to simulate ancient styles of combat. Jason had simply adapted the moves to work against a more mythic foe.

The cloud of silky blackness coalesced in the shape of a dragon over his head. It was a dozen feet long, and more suggestive of a dragon than a genuine depiction like the one Jason had shown Ferran. That one had been detailed, with grasping claws, gaping jaws, and unblinking, jewel-like eyes. This one was mistier and constantly shifting, many of the details forgotten in the balancing act between achieving the right feel and saving the projectors from overload. The image wavered in the faintness of the smoke, but judging from the startled mewls and gasps in the room, it was the sort of illusion the Perels hadn’t seen much of before.

Shiny black changed, shimmering into bright red scales, starting at the head and working their way toward the tail as the dragon seemed to stalk Jason across the floor. Jason leapt and kicked and spun the staff in tight, flicker-fast circles around his body, thrusting it outward at the beginning and end of every pass. His crisp uniform snapped with the force of his movements, the only sound to break the silence that had descended over the crowd. He was falling into the zone, a place of utter concentration as he became absorbed in a form he had perfected as a young man and now revived for the sake of his future.

The dragon dodged and swirled around Jason, its body breaking up and reforming in places as the projectors strove to keep up with the speed of the movements. Their interaction melded into a performance of partners, not adversaries. The color of the scales melted into green, and the dragon began to fly more playfully, slowing down and coiling around Jason as he fought, no longer a foe but an ally.

At the very end of the form, as Jason came back to his starting position and ritually bowed, the illusion dissolved over his body like a glittering rain until all that was left were two glowing, golden eyes perched right over his head. As he straightened out of the bow, the eyes vanished, and all that was left was Jason, breathing hard as he waited for a reaction.

There was nothing but silence. Silence could be comforting, but frankly, at that point, any reaction would have been preferable to the empty enormity of not knowing what anyone was thinking. Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed to stick around and find out what his audience thought. Tradition demanded, for the sake of modesty and deference to his matriarch, that he withdraw and that any offers made by potential students be delivered through her. So once the heart-stoppingly long moment was over, Jason bowed once more to the matriarchs, turned around, and walked back out the door.

He kept walking until he was back in his and Ferran’s den and carefully set down the staff. Only then did he let himself fall back onto the couch, close his eyes, and let loose the sigh that had been beating at his throat ever since he found out he’d have to do this. It was out of his control now. He’d done the best he could, and that would have to be good enough for his new family, because he was tapped out.

The door to their den eased open and shut. Jason didn’t open his eyes, but he did manage a smile as Ferran joined him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. “You were beautiful.”

“You did a really good job on the dragon,” Jason agreed. “The illusion worked a lot better than I thought it would.”

“No,” Ferran corrected him gently, “You were beautiful. You move beautifully. Gracefully. You move like a duelist, only I am not afraid to look at you.”

Jason opened his eyes and stared at Ferran. “What are duelists? I thought fighting was forbidden here.”

“Fighting is forbidden,” Ferran agreed, “but dueling is ritual and respected. In a situation where the two sides cannot reach an agreement, a reason for a duel may be declared. Each House has a small number of males who specialize in dueling, but only one can represent a House at a time. The duelists meet in a neutral territory, and the House of whoever survives wins the conflict.”

“Wait, whoever survives? Duels are to the death?”

“Always,” Ferran affirmed. “It is tradition. One even matriarchs must respect, and no male would dream of disregarding our heritage with an act of cowardice.”

“I thought all life was sacred….” Jason trailed off, not really knowing how to reconcile the two violently opposed viewpoints.

“It is. That’s why the ability to resolve things with duels is so important. They prevent loss of life on a larger scale. There are times when not even a matriarch can cool the blood of the males in her family, and at such times, a duel is the perfect outlet. One family will spend their energy in triumph and the other will use it in grief, and the tension will be relieved.” Ferran hesitated. “My father was the duelist for the House of Grenn. He died that way. It happened right before my brother left Perelan, and I think it affected Veyall greatly. You remind me a little of my father, sometimes.”

Jason gazed wordlessly into Ferran’s eyes, not sure how to react to such a revelation. Ferran saved him the trouble of thinking up the words and kissed him. “Do not worry. I would never treat my father so. And you will never leave me.”

“Never,” Jason promised. “As long as it’s in my power, I’ll never leave you.”

“Good,” Ferran purred. He kissed Jason again, licking at the edge of his lips and opening Jason’s mouth, stealing the last of his concentration away from the performance and bringing it back where it belonged, on the reason he was here in the first place.

Jason pulled Ferran closer against his body and smoothed his hands down Ferran’s back until they hovered just above his lover’s hips. The urge to thrust up against Ferran was growing fast, and Jason was seriously considering it before he heard the door open again. There was a discreet cough.

With an internal sigh, Jason let go of Ferran and looked over at the door. Grenn was there with her her hands folded, her face genial but not giving anything away. “Hello.”

“Mother.” Ferran got up to greet her, but Jason stayed where he was, waiting for his body to calm down a little before standing up and making his arousal even more noticeable. Not that he really expected Grenn to care about his modesty, but Jason had his limits.

“That was a very enjoyable demonstration,” Grenn congratulated him. “An interesting blend of art and technology. How long will it take to teach our people those skills?”

“Years,” Jason replied. He hadn’t held anything back in this performance, and while it was just kata, there was a lot of technique that went into it, and that could only be learned with consistent application. “Less for the technological side of things.”

“Years,” Grenn purred. “Excellent. And how many people could you teach at once?”

Jason thought it through. “It depends on the length of the class. For one hour, I’d only want about twenty students. Two hours, I could handle thirty. That way, everyone gets my personal attention for some of the class. And they would have to see me two to three times a week to actually improve. More if they want to get better quickly.”

“Well. You are going to be very, very busy for this next year, then,” Grenn said with satisfaction. “Because this demonstration of your considerable cultural gifts for Perelan was very successful. There have been more requests for your time and attention than you could possibly undertake. Tomorrow, you and I will discuss when you will start teaching, what you will need to do it, and how many classes you will take on. Tonight, you must celebrate this success with your family.”

“Must I?” As excited as Jason was that things had turned out well, he was still incredibly tired. He didn’t really want anything more than to climb into bed with Ferran and take a day off, which he’d had yet to experience on Perelan.

“Of course you must. Both of you must,” she added when Ferran opened his mouth to argue. His quills were sharp and raised, and he didn’t look happy, but he didn’t refuse either. “The audience chamber has been cleared of all but our own family. They expect you as soon as possible.” She left as abruptly as she’d come in, and Jason let his eyes shut again. It was very comfortable on this couch. Sinfully comfortable, really. It was almost a crime that he was expected to lever himself off it when he was so tired….

Ferran’s hands stroked gently down his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Jason bit back another sigh and let his husband help him up. “Hopefully we won’t have to stay up too late.”

“We won’t.”

That was the idea, at least. But apparently Jason’s performance was enough of a coup for the House of Grenn that it warranted more than a simple round of handshakes and a “Good job.” Fresh tea and fruit were brought out, music far livelier than any Jason had heard on Perelan before was played over the speaker system, and every pup in the building begged for him to teach them the form. It was flattering for a while, but then it simply became tiring. He finally excused himself after three hours, leaving Ferran to smooth over any ruffled feathers—or quills, as the case might be—and fell into bed, fully expecting to get only a few hours of sleep before he was roused again.

Chapter Nine

JASON’S INTERNAL alarm went off right on schedule, but before he could do more than roll toward the edge of the bed in preparation for getting up, Ferran’s arm wrapped around his waist, holding him down. His lover’s sleep-roughened voice said, “We do not work today. Our instructors already know.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Jason didn’t ask again, just rolled over, kissed his husband’s shoulder, and fell asleep without even opening his eyes. It ended up being the laziest day he’d spent since leaving Jacksonville, and easily the best one as well. Not even the twins could drag them out of their den, and that was exactly how Jason wanted it.

At the start of his second week on Perelan, Jason’s situation had changed for the better. He had greatly increased his status with the other matriarchs and their families, he had gained a level of celebrity that didn’t directly have to do with the fact that he was an alien, and no one was openly speaking out against him. He was still learning to speak Perel, the twins were taking him farther afield, and more people were willing to approach him in public….

Those were the things Jason chose to focus on that second week, because the process of learning how to manage his time and still have more than a moment to kiss his husband as they passed in the halls of Grenn’s den was more trying than he could have anticipated. Jason maintained all of his own classes while beginning two more as an instructor every other day: one for the interested pups in the House of Grenn, and the other for adult males, with at least one male attending each from the seven most powerful Houses. He had twenty students in each class, and that was after fighting with Grenn to keep the numbers down and the class length at an hour.

The other thing he’d had to compromise on was the location of his classes. Grenn’s house was the ideal place to do the classes, but the conservative matriarchs wouldn’t have it. It was yet another unfair advantage, and so Jason was required to teach all of his students in an auditorium inside the Council House. That was about as far from ideal as Jason could imagine, but there was nothing he could do about it. Fortunately, one of his students in the adult class was Corran, the twins’ younger brother, and he had already volunteered his services as a translator if one was needed. It shouldn’t be, since a condition of participation for the adults was fluency in the Federation common language, but Jason and Grenn both figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

Corran also came early to help translate for the children’s class, and that was a totally different endeavor. It was actually far more relaxing working with the pups, despite the fact that Jason was an only child and had never spent any significant time with children in his life outside of a classroom. He gave them three rules they had to follow, and when they didn’t, he sent them to the side of the room to watch while the rest of the students continued.

On the first day, he explained the rules twice, along with his title, before beginning to go through the basic stances, punches and kicks.

Some of the pups were disappointed. “When do I get to have the wood that shoots demons?” one asked, his lower lip sticking out in a ridiculous pout.

“When you can be disciplined enough to remember the rules before you speak out of turn,” Jason replied, and the stupefied pup was sent to the wall. None of them had trouble remembering the rules after that.

“And what are the rules?” he asked at the end of his first day of classes with the pups.

“Be respectful to our teacher, to each other, and to our dojang.” Dojang was the word for “house of discipline” in ancient Korean, and Jason thought it was fitting to bring some of the original terminology into what he was teaching them.

“And how do you show your respect?” Jason asked. “What do you do when you wish to speak?” He pointed at a young child on the far right.

“Raise… raise….” The pup looked at Corran in frustration and growled something.

“Raise your hand,” Corran translated.

“Very good. How do you show your respect to others? Do you fight for your place in line?” He pointed to a pup on the left.

“No, we be nice.”

“Polite. Yes.” He waited for Corran to translate before continuing. “And how do you show respect to your dojang?” This time he chose Grennson to answer.

“Bowww… on. Boww offff.”

“That’s right,” Jason congratulated him, and the pup smiled shyly. “You bow on and off of the floor. There are special rules in this space, and if you can’t respect them, you can’t be a part of this class. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good.” Jason pressed one closed hand into the open palm of the other in front of his chest and bowed. The class bowed back, some of them more smoothly than others, but all of them slowly and with control. “Dismissed.”

The bows getting off the mat were much less slow and controlled, but Jason was pleased to see them happen, at least. A large shuttle was waiting to take the pups back to the House of Grenn, and one of the older consorts was there to shepherd them. Not one of Grenn’s consorts. She had only taken three—far fewer than most matriarchs—and only one of them had been fertile. All of them were dead. But there were plenty of consorts among the lesser matriarchs of Grenn’s House who were willing to help, given their wives’ permission.

Once the children were gone, the second group began to assemble. Jason anticipated that this would be a much more challenging class, and not just because he was dealing with young, strong, curious males, not all of whom would be inclined to be kind to him. That, he could handle. He had handled it numerous times throughout his life. What he didn’t know how to deal with yet was the politics of the situation. All of his students should be treated equally, but Jason expected that every single student coming into his class was coming with an agenda, and it would be his responsibility to figure out what they wanted, how they were going about getting it, and what he could do to allay their expectations without being rude.

The class began well enough. Jason introduced himself, laid out the rules, and told the students that if they wanted to argue with his rules, they could leave. “I don’t want you as a student if my species is a problem for you or is going to become a problem. If you have an issue with what I’m teaching you here, you can bring this issue to me after class—not to your matriarch and not to mine. This class is not about anything or anyone other than you, me, and your fellow students. Is this understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

It sounded almost bizarre to hear so many people speaking Jason’s own language all at once after so many days of hearing nothing but Perel. “Good. Let’s get started.”

The class was… interesting. The males who had gotten in were clearly assessing not only Jason but each other as well: cataloguing, documenting, and trying to outdo each other all at once. They were far more physically proficient than the children, and by the end of class, Jason began teaching them the first kata.

“This is for fighting, sir?” one of the males asked. He was taller than most of the others, and they gave him a subtle but noticeable extra amount of space. He was very handsome, from Jason’s perspective, with the sensuality that all Perels had coupled with strong, regular features that couldn’t be anything but appealing. He was also the most arrogant person in the room, and Jason was just waiting for the smugness about him to manifest as confrontation.

“No. This is a form of exercise and meditation.”

“But for humans, this is used for fighting, isn’t it? Sir?”

“This is a very stylized form of the art,” Jason said firmly. “Humans haven’t used this for fighting for thousands of years.”

“But you could teach us to fight. Or at least, something more relevant than this.”

Corran looked like he wanted to intervene, but Jason waved him back. “No. I’m not going to teach any of you how to fight like humans do. That isn’t the purpose of this class.”

“Because your fighting techniques are inferior to ours?”

Jason smiled, almost relieved to have the “Perel versus human” question out in the open. “No, because my House supports a path of peace. My mothers agree that there are some things that are better left unshared. And you forgot to say ‘sir.’” He pointed at the floor. “One hundred push-ups. Go.” Timeouts wouldn’t work with adults, but making the other male do push-ups in the middle of class was a display of power that Jason could get away with.

The rest of his first class went smoothly enough, and after he dismissed the students, Jason pulled Corran aside and asked, “Who is he? One of Srell’s sons?” Grenn had warned him that Srell’s family members would most likely be a handful.

“No, he is of the House of Tlann. His name is—”

“I will introduce myself,” the tall Perel said as he walked back on the mat, dismissing Corran without a second glance. The look he turned on Jason was bright and anticipatory. “I am actually surprised you don’t remember me, Captain. We met over a year ago, on your ship. I knew your husband, Blake, very well.” He smiled. “Very intimately.”

Ah, yes. That. He had seemed slightly familiar, and now Jason knew why. His throat tightened reflexively, but he managed to speak around it. “Blake and I were never married, and while I remember your face—”Your smug, wicked, hurtful face. “I don’t remember your name.”

“Seronn, son of Tlann, consort of Hrill.”

“I see.” There were worlds of subtlety that Jason was missing here, from the look of things, and he needed to find out what they were. Fast. “I’ll remember you now.”

“That is good.”

After Seronn turned away, Jason pushed the last of his more curious-minded students out the doors. There was a shuttle waiting for him and Corran, and they rode it in uncomfortable silence.

Corran fidgeted and looked like he wanted to speak, and when they stopped and Jason stepped out, he finally did. “Next time, I will help you better,” he promised. “He should not speak to you in such a way. I should have supported you.”

“His problems with me have nothing to do with you,” Jason promised. “You did fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast. Thanks for your help.”

“It’s my honor to help you,” Corran said seriously. “You are my family now, just like my brothers and Ferran. I will always support you.”

Jason wasn’t at all sure he deserved unquestioning support, but he was happy to have it for the moment. “Thank you, Corran. Go and get some sleep.”

It was good advice—the kind that Jason wanted to follow himself—but he hadn’t had time to eat dinner earlier and hadn’t seen Ferran all day, and he wanted to ask him about Seronn. He wanted to explain to him as well, because the last thing Jason needed was Ferran hearing through the Perel grapevine that Jason had been married before. He and Blake had never considered marriage. Looking back on it, Jason wondered if that wasn’t one of the many problems Blake had had with their relationship.

Their den was warm and dimly lit, with a few lines of bioluminescence glowing along the floor but most of the light coming from the lamp in the kitchen.

Ferran was there, and he had been cooking. It smelled amazing.

“You’re home.” Ferran enfolded Jason in a tight hug, and the stresses of the day eased their grip on Jason’s body.

Hugs were for evening, when they were both tired and needed the full physical connection. The rest of the time, they used the Perel version of a farewell or hello. Jason liked them—preferred them at times—but not right now. He hugged Ferran back, kissed his cheek, and then pulled away. “You cooked.”

“Ambassador Howards gave me fish. I made salmon on red rice.” Ferran pointed to the small table that was set for the two of them. “I asked her for the things to make kimchi. She said she would order them with the next shipment of supplies.”

“Thank you for that. Did you ask her about the emitters as well?”

“Yes. She told me not to nag.”

Jason laughed a little as he sat down. “That sounds like her.”

Ferran sat across from him and they began to eat. “How were your classes?”

“They went well enough. I enjoyed working with the children.”

Ferran smiled. “They were so excited when they came home. All of the others are very jealous now. My mother wants you to do more classes, but I told her no.”

That was a little surprising. “Did you?”

“You already work very hard,” Ferran said a bit primly before taking a bite of the salmon.

Yes, he did. It felt good to have his husband stick up for him, defending him even to his matriarch. Ferran was in a good mood, so Jason decided now was as good a time as any to bring up what had happened tonight. “Do you remember how I acted toward you when we first met?”

“Very clearly. You were interested in me, but you were very reserved for days and days.”

“I did say it wasn’t about you, though.”

“That is true. But you never told me what it was about.”

“I think I probably should.”

Ferran put his fork down and folded his hands in his lap, his eyes widening with concern. He didn’t say anything, though, just waited.

“You know that Blake and I were only together for a little over a year.” It seemed like a good place to start, neutral territory.

“Yes.”

“We were… happy. I thought we were happy. At first. By the time he ended things, we weren’t so happy, but I didn’t pay very close attention to that. I didn’t pay attention to a lot of things I probably should have, but Blake found other people who were more than willing to pay attention to him. He was a very engaging person.”

Ferran looked a little uncomfortable, slightly flushed through his ears, but Jason felt surprisingly sanguine about the situation. The past was the past, and he really was over Blake. What mattered now was how the past could affect the present.

“The person who definitively ended it between us was a Perel, finishing up his tour before returning here. He and Blake had a fling. Naturally, the news spread, since it was a Perel he was sleeping with, who had no interest in discretion, and that was that.”

“I can see how this would give you reservations about my people,” Ferran said, his voice very serious. “You must have thought I would be the same.”

“I did at first. You taught me better,” Jason assured him, wanting to ease his husband’s look of uncertainty. “The point of me telling you all this is because the Perel who Blake slept with is in my second class, and he doesn’t care for me. He’s probably going to approach you at some point and tell you about this, so I thought I would get it out first.”

“Oh.” Ferran tilted his head in that inquisitive way so many Perels had. “Who is he?”

“His name is Seronn.”

“Oh.” Ferran’s quills immediately sharpened. “Oh. That is possibly a problem for you. I hadn’t thought it would be. I thought he would leave you alone.”

Jason frowned. “Why is that a problem, other than the fact that he isn’t going to be a cooperative student?”

“Because he is the consort of Hrill. She is Matriarch Tlann’s only female pup, her heir, and she is the matriarch I was promised to before I left on my trip. It wasn’t a formalized promise—I made my mother agree not to betroth me—but if I had not met you, that is the family I would have married into. Many matriarchs have so many husbands that it is understood there will be sexual relationships between them when she is otherwise engaged, and Seronn has always been interested in me.”

Jason stared at Ferran, completely taken aback. “So he thinks I stole you from him?”

“It seems so.” Ferran fidgeted in his seat, his mouth working soundlessly for a moment, before he went on. “I was interested in him as well, before. I am not terribly fond of Hrill, but I thought that if Seronn was to be with me, I would become content in her family. He is very….”

“Magnetic?” Jason offered dryly. “Enticing? Attractive?”

“I have upset you.”

“I’m fine.” The silent, hurt accusation in his lover’s eyes made Jason sigh, and he backed up and thought about how to phrase the truth. “I don’t think that you’re still interested in him, even if he is very interesting. I just find him annoying. Having this kind of history with one of my students is going to make it very difficult to teach him, and I can’t kick him out of the class. Your mother would kill me.”

“She would understand.”

“No, she wouldn’t. How many times have we been told that this is bigger than us?” Jason laughed a little, but it didn’t sound like any laugh he’d ever made before. This one was strained and tired and filled with bitterness, bitterness, which hurt, because he didn’t want to feel bitter. He wanted to feel happy and in love. This was the honeymoon period, wasn’t it? When so many hormones were floating around that you were swimming in your delight in the other person, breathing your love for him. Jason knew he loved Ferran. He knew he would continue to love him, because constancy was in his nature and Ferran was easy to love. Still, it would have been nice if the chemical buzz that was the quick reward for love and lust hadn’t been tamped down by too many classes, too many meetings, too many rules and expectations.

“What is that emotion?” Ferran wondered aloud. He looked apprehensive. “I haven’t felt it before.”

“I don’t really know how to explain it,” Jason replied. The closest overall descriptor he could come to was melancholy, and it still wasn’t entirely accurate.

“You are unhappy.”

“No one can be perfectly happy all of the time.” That might have been a little too much honesty for Ferran, who seemed to shrink in a little on himself. Jason reached across their small table and took his husband’s hand, running his thumb in soothing circles over Ferran’s knuckles. “I love you. That hasn’t changed at all. How I feel about you, how much I want you—none of that’s going to change, no matter what gets thrown at us. But I can’t lose myself in you, and I can’t relax, and neither can you, not yet. That’s what makes me unhappy, but I know it’s necessary, and so I don’t want to complain.”

“Oh.” Ferran considered that for a moment. “Humans are very emotionally complex creatures.”

“We certainly are,” Jason agreed. “It’s a pain in the neck, isn’t it?”

“It makes you interesting. A Perel’s deepest, most ingrained behaviors are both obedience and combativeness, which can be difficult for individuals to reconcile, but the vast majority of pups manage it. With humans, though, there is constant variety. You are never quite the same—the things that motivate you the most are so often different. There is almost always love and hate and fear and lust, but they are flavored with a thousand different secondary emotions. You are brilliant and complicated. And sometimes you frighten me because you are so complicated I cannot understand you.”

“Just ask me to explain,” Jason said. He brought Ferran’s hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “I’ll always try.”

“Good.” Ferran glanced at the fish. “Your dinner is cold now.”

“Salmon is good cold or warm.” And Jason was still far too hungry for familiar food to think of turning it down. He ate the rest quickly and then stood up. Ferran stood with him. “I need to clean up and get some sleep,” Jason sighed.

“I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.”

Jason smiled. “If you wait up, then I won’t be sleeping as much.”

Ferran smiled back. “That is my hope.”

Chapter Ten

LIFE, INCREDIBLY, could settle into a routine, even when there was nothing routine about it. Every day was different in some way, but after a month, Jason was beginning to feel like he was getting the hang of it. The time after breakfast was spent suffering through language lessons and drinking too much tea to keep his throat from getting overly sore. After lunch, he went out with Neyarr and Garrell, going farther and farther afield from the main city every day. Jason met members of every major House, and apart from the strangeness in the teahouse the first day and the difficulties he was having with Seronn, none of them did any worse than ignore him after a curt greeting, which he could definitely handle.

The inner sections of Berenze were heavily populated and very clearly inhabited once you knew what you were looking for. There were long, wide structures whose sole purpose was to redirect the flow of the copious rain so that it wouldn’t sink into people’s homes, almost all of which were underground. Outdoors, it was green and mossy, and always, always damp, and despite the contacts and the amount of medication Jason was on, his eyes always stung when he was out in the air for more than a few hours.

The working people did business in the ground. That was where all the stores were, most of them family-run shops, and the vast majority of those families were associated with the seven matriarchs that ran the Council. Only simple things were sold in the general stores. Everything that required more work—anything custom-made or fitted, from tables to clothes—had to be done by special order. Once a Perel married, he—and Jason only ever saw males out and about—was more strictly confined to his home and the service of his matriarch, so most of the people Jason met in his trips around the city were like the twins: young, unmarried, and either working or wealthy enough that they didn’t have to work.

People were very interested in him, that much was clear. As Jason’s language skills became marginally better, he was able to respond to more questions, or at least partially answer them before one of the twins stepped in to save him. Most of the questions were about where he came from. Did you come from Earth? What is it like there? Do all humans look like you? Do all humans travel the universe? Are you all wealthy enough to do that?

Jason had never seen Earth; he had never even been to the home system. Most people hadn’t, these days. Earth had been abandoned generations ago, the last of its holdouts giving up and immigrating to Mars. What could he say about Earth that would make any sense on this world? Jason usually went with, “I was born on a planet far away from Earth. Humans live on many different planets. No, not all humans look like I do. Many of them travel the universe. No, we’re not all wealthy enough to do that.” Some were poor enough to do it instead, people who mined the asteroid belts—who could barely afford to keep their vessels running, much less buy property on a habitable planet. It wasn’t a distinction that Jason felt capable of explaining yet.

The only change Jason knew was headed his way was that pretty soon he was going to lose Neyarr and Garrell as his escorts around the city. He should be able to get around fairly well on his own now, and he was honestly looking forward to the moments of privacy. But increasing his independence wasn’t why he was losing them. Their marriage was approaching, and once that knot was tied, they wouldn’t be free to go out on the town whenever they wanted to.

They didn’t seem too bothered by the prospect. “Ylenn will be a good wife,” Garrell said, one rare evening when the four of them—the twins, Jason, and Ferran—were curled on their couch watching a movie on their holo emitter. “She has four consorts already and eleven pups. One of her consorts is our friend Jennan, and he has never had reason to complain about her guidance. We will probably be the last consorts she takes too.”

“She’s better than Hrill,” Neyarr added with a sidelong glance at Ferran. “No matter what other consorts Hrill sports.”

“And Jason is better than any of them,” Ferran said smugly, cuddling closer to his husband’s side. Jason half smiled and kissed Ferran’s temple.

“You two are disgustingly affectionate.”

“That’s rich,” Jason said with a raised eyebrow.

Neyarr frowned. “How is it wealthy?”

“He means it is laughable,” Garrell informed his brother.

“Well, between consorts and wives, it is unusual,” Neyarr defended himself. “Females are raised to keep an emotional distance from their consorts, although of course they must always be good mates to them. Females are usually older than their consorts, and they are, in some ways, as much of a mother figure as they are a wife.”

“So, you’re comparing me unfavorably to a matriarch?” Jason asked. “That isn’t exactly insulting for me.”

“I didn’t mean it to be insulting. I’m just….” Neyarr sighed, and his brother stroked the back of his head. “Part of me never believed we would reach this point. Marriage. We won’t see you for months after the rhezan.”

“Why not?”

“It is a matter of becoming accustomed to our new family,” Garrell said. “Males marry into their wife’s family, and from then on, they must devote themselves to her kin. It can take some time for a new consort to learn the behaviors appropriate to his new household, as well as his duties, the names of his new children… things like that.”

Ferran shivered very slightly, and Jason suddenly became aware that while what the twins were describing might have been normal, his husband, at least, wouldn’t have described it as an enjoyable process.

“What will the rhezan be like?” Jason asked, not just because he wanted to change the subject, but because he was genuinely curious about it.

“Large,” Neyarr replied. “Both of our extended families will attend. The ceremony will only take a few minutes, but there is a feast afterwards. It can go on for a long time.”

“Days,” Garrell agreed.

“It sounds fun.”

“It always is, at least for the guests. Yours will be very exciting,” Neyarr said with an anticipatory grin. “Very strange. I hope we get to attend. Have you chosen a date yet?”

“We have not thought much about it lately,” Ferran told them.

Which was true on his part. Jason had actually been doing a lot of thinking about it, because Grenn had been bringing the subject up with him on a daily basis for the past week and a half.

“It is expected,” she’d told him, imperturbable in the face of his objections. “It is a public recognition of your status. It is a celebration. The rhezan is absolutely essential if you and my son wish to be fully integrated into Perel society.”

“But there’s no rule that says we have to do it right now,” Jason had said, sticking on that point, even though he really didn’t have any problem with ritually marrying Ferran, per se. It just seemed like another layer of bureaucracy to fight through when both of them were already working themselves through the night—or day, as it were—to learn and adapt.

“Every day you wait is a day that could be easier on you, and easier on our people in general.”

“But you validated me!” Jason had exclaimed, exhausted by the never-ending hurdles that presented themselves. “Isn’t that as official as it gets?”

“It is official sanction, but it isn’t official acceptance. That comes with the rhezan.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“This is your life now,” Grenn had told him, and there was no way he could do anything other than look her in the eye when she took that tone. “These steps are as necessary for you as they are for any other citizen of Perelan. You need to understand that and understand it well, and fast. I am tired of having this conversation with you.”

“That makes two of us,” he’d muttered. His meetings with Grenn, while always frank and sometimes helpful, more often left him feeling argumentative and wrung out than anything else. He hated feeling that way, hated day after day of confrontation, but there was no escaping it.

“We’re going into the jungle tomorrow, right?” Jason asked, changing the subject. It was a field trip of sorts, something that the twins had been promising they would do before they were rendered unavailable, and Ferran had managed to get a day’s reprieve from his classes to go with them.

“Yes. Not far,” Neyarr cautioned, “but far enough to give you a feel for it. The House of Grenn and several others have a harvesting operation at the edge of the trees, and there is a central platform with walkways there that we can show you, places where you can go a little ways out into the wild. Not far, though.”

They kept emphasizing that point, but going for a jaunt in the depths of the jungle wasn’t what Jason was looking forward to. “I understand. What do they harvest?”

“Bark,” Ferran said. He shifted his legs beneath him on the couch. “Different trees are used to cultivate different strains of fungi, which have a multitude of uses depending on how they are raised, what they are exposed to, and so on. It’s a very large operation, part of the biggest industrial center in Berenze.”

“Is this one of the reasons your mother is the most powerful matriarch on the Council?”

“That and the size of our family, primarily.”

“It’s one of the reasons our marrying Ylenn is such a good idea for both Houses,” Garrell added. “Her House is very highly educated. They have scientists who are experts in local biology, and they will be more inclined to work for the House of Grenn if there is an alliance between us.”

“I see.” Arranged marriages like that weren’t unusual on certain human planets, especially the rural ones, but for Jason, who came from parents who had married each other because they had simply fallen in love, the idea of it was anathema. He felt grateful that Ferran had found him and pursued him, and pleased with himself that he’d had the sense to fall in love with him.

“I want to come.”

The twins twisted around where they were lounging and rounded on their younger brother. Corran was standing in the doorway and looking a little bit like he wished he hadn’t spoken up, but he stood his ground.

“You were not invited,” Neyarr told him, “and you are rude as well to be listening in secret to our conversation.”

“I should come,” Corran tried again, his expression stiff and resolved. “Matriarch Grenn agrees. I need to start learning escort techniques, and even at the edge, Jason should be protected.”

Garrell’s eyes narrowed. “Why does the matriarch think you need to learn escort techniques?”

Corran’s quills sharpened and rose with tension. “Because I am going to be the next duelist for the House of Grenn.”

Following this announcement there was a moment of shocked silence, and then all three Perels on the couch reverted to their natural language and began alternately shouting, growling and yipping at Corran, who was so bristly his head resembled that of a cockatoo. They spoke far too fast for Jason to make sense of it, so he sat back, watched the body language play out, and tried to understand what was going on.

The twins seemed to be more worried and exasperated than anything else, clearly trying to persuade their brother that this wasn’t what he wanted—that it was an impetuous decision. Ferran actually seemed angry, snapping out harsh words and smacking the back of one hand into the palm of the other in a gesture Jason had never seen before.

Corran stood there and took it all silently, but his skin was getting darker and darker, and it was only a very short matter of time until he’d boil over and things would really go to hell. Jason felt compelled to step in before that could happen.

“Stop it,” he said, and then a few seconds later, more forcefully, “Stop it. Please.”

The twins quieted down, and after Jason placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder, he stopped as well. “This isn’t helping. Corran, I’m not going to tell you what to do or what to be, but—” He held up a hand when the young male opened his mouth to speak. “Do you actually know any escort techniques yet?”

“No… but that is why I should go, so I can learn!”

“Who’s going to teach you? One of us? Your brothers and cousin aren’t duelists, and I’m not a bodyguard, so we can’t help you. You can’t practice what you don’t know. Next time, ask to be invited, instead of inviting yourself.”

“But he will be there,” Corran insisted sullenly.

“Who?”

“Seronn of House Tlann. And he does not like you—he says awful things when you are not able to hear him, and I do not trust that he will not make trouble for you.”

“Why will he be there?” Ferran asked, his ears twitching uncomfortably.

“He said it was because tomorrow is the best day for viewing the… the… beetles?” Corran turned confused eyes on his brothers. “Bark beetles? Are those words right?”

“They will work,” Neyarr said. “But when has Seronn ever been interested in looking at bark beetles?”

“He isn’t. It’s for Jason and Ferran, so he can trouble them,” Corran said. “I should go.”

“No.”

“But Jason—”

“I can care for my own consort,” Ferran interjected angrily. “We will be fine.”

“Leave,” said Garrell.

“Go,” added Neyarr.

“All right,” Corran shouted at his brothers. He turned and left, trailing wounded dignity like a cloak.

Jason looked over at his husband. Ferran’s nostrils were flared and his quills were so sharp that Jason decided it was better if he didn’t touch them, just in case. “Are you okay? We don’t have to go do this tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is the last day they will have for themselves before the rhezan,” Ferran replied, gesturing to his cousins. “And we have places reserved for us on the platform. We should go. We will be fine.”

“Perfectly fine,” Neyarr agreed. “Seronn might be an… an ass… but he is not stupid. Any trouble he makes for his matriarch with the House of Grenn would go very hard for him.”

“Tlann is ambitious, but she isn’t foolish,” Garrell said.

Ferran didn’t say anything else. He just listened to his cousins talk it through for themselves before saying, “We will see you tomorrow morning.” He ushered Jason out and back to their own den in silence.

Jason waited patiently for his husband to say something, and was finally rewarded with, “Did you know my mother was going to make Corran the next duelist?”

Well, that question was a bit of a surprise. “No,” Jason said, “she’s never even discussed it with me.”

“Not once?”

“Not once,” Jason repeated. “Why?”

“Because… she told me that she might consult with you on it. That you might be able to recommend one of your students.”

“I don’t even know what would be required for the position,” Jason said honestly. “Although I don’t think Corran is a bad choice. At least he’s interested.”

“He is too young to know!” Ferran insisted. “It is a dangerous role, the most dangerous, and he is too young to choose such a path.”

“He isn’t that young.” Jason didn’t really know why he was arguing about this, but for some reason, it felt important. “People all over the universe choose difficult paths every day, for a lot of reasons. If Corran feels this is the best way for him to serve, then he should be allowed to take it.”

“But he doesn’t know how,” Ferran said, his voice layered over with a mournful whine.

“He’ll learn. Grenn will make sure of that. And I’ll do what I can to look out for him.”

Finally, Ferran relaxed enough to be drawn into his lover’s embrace, and Jason held him close with a relieved sigh. “I know you will help him,” Ferran whispered. “You’re a good person.”

“I try.”

Chapter Eleven

THE INHERENT goodness of Jason’s character was tested the next day, and he was thankful that so much of his mental map consisted of a firm belief in privacy and a resounding ability to keep his own mouth shut.

Their day began well. He and Ferran met the twins, sans their younger brother, and all of them acted as if nothing had happened yesterday as they piled into one of Grenn’s shuttles.

“The factory is releasing a new nest of beetles today,” Neyarr said. He and his brother were dressed in matching blue, so tight it was more than suggestive, it was almost obscene. It was their last day before the time they’d need preparing themselves for the rhezan, and they were clearly intent on making the most of it. “They only do it twice a year. It is very enjoyable to see.”

“They’re different colors,” Garrell explained. “Different colored beetles are designed to work different trees. The biologists have bred them this way, and the nestlings will emerge from the nursery and find their way to the beetles that share their color.”

“It takes them a while to find their way, though. They fumble through the lines, bumping and mixing things up….” Ferran grinned widely as he tapped his closed fists together lightly. “It is very adorable.”

You’re adorable. It was on the tip of Jason’s tongue to say it, but he wasn’t given to public displays of affection, even if it was only words and the twins would probably enjoy it. Ferran seemed to sense it anyway, because he curled close and stayed bright and happy, almost like the disclosures of last night had never happened.

The factory was almost as far out as the landing site, but in the opposite direction. It was clear that the place was industrial; it rose higher above the ground than any of the other buildings Jason had seen here, even the Council House. Steam rose from vents on top of the building, causing the sky to haze like a mirage. Jason stepped out into the heat and humidity and the sting, but it didn’t bother him so much with his family standing around him, excited to show him something new.

The factory manager showing them around was a member of the House of Tlann, the head scientist for the facility, and from the look on her face, she definitely had better things to do than escort them from one end of the factory to the platform on the other side. Apparently, Jason merited careful handling.

“Do not step off the platform or the walkways,” she said crisply in perfect Federation language. “If you go out onto the walkways, keep your eyes down. Sweepers do an excellent job of clearing the closest flora of animals, but it is always possible that something could get by. If you see something that looks dangerous, stay away from it and immediately return to the platform. Stay away from the railing, and under no circumstances should you attempt to climb over, lean over, or even look over the railing. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Matriarch,” Ferran said politely.

“That goes especially for you two,” she said with a glower at the twins. “If I see either of you in any of those trees again…. And leave the beetles alone, or I do not care what the future holds for you—come mother or wife, I will harden your hides with the palm of my hand. Do you understand me?”

The twins smiled as one. “Yes, Matriarch.”

“Go.” She opened the door at the end of the interminable hall, letting them out into the darkness beyond. Jason let himself be led outside with gentle touches to his hand. It was nighttime, naturally, so Jason was at a disadvantage when it came to getting around, but he was surprised to find that not only could he make his way across the spongy platform without any problems, he could make out even the tiniest details of the forest surrounding them. Everything was glowing. Not only was it glowing, it was moving.

The trees here were variations on a theme, some of them with trunks that spread low and thick and spiny branches that shot straight up, fighting for their places in the sun. Others were taller and thinner, with wide, oblong leaves that dripped condensed water down onto the distant floor. Everything glowed with fungus in various shades and strengths of phosphorescence that tended toward greens, blues, and yellows. And the things that were making it move were….

“What are those?”

Ferran smiled and pulled Jason farther from the building, stepping quickly as they made their way to the edge of the platform. “Those are the bark beetles. Come and look.”

They stopped at the edge, and the sour air caught in Jason’s throat as he looked out at the forest. Everything… no, not everything. Something was moving, everywhere. Some of the trees were vast, and in the crevices of their bark, round creatures crawled, their bright backs reflecting the glow of the trees in slightly different hues like crimson, cobalt, and violet. Many of them were climbing the trees, but lines of them, armies of them, were down on the forest floor, making their way out into the jungle in surprisingly orderly rows. “Those are beetles?”

“Yes.”

“They look enormous.”

“Compared to the ones you are used to?”

“I’m not used to any, really—they couldn’t survive on Jacksonville—but I’ve seen pictures before. Encountered a few when I was on other worlds…. They were nowhere near this big.”

“These beetles are larger than their natural counterparts, and much more colorful,” Ferran allowed. “They were designed to be able to bring more bark back to the factory at one time, but the best part about them is that they are environmentally conscious. The trees regenerate their bark fast, but the beetles naturally know which have been harvested as far as is safe, and they search out new trees. There is some attrition among the beetles, but that is why new ones are constantly being bred in the hatcheries.”

“That’s fascinating.”

“Yes.” Ferran looked out at the glowing tableau, and Jason looked at Ferran, watching the glowing trails of light reflected in his eyes. “The beetles were modified before the civil war, when we were more involved with genetic engineering. They were a much more successful experiment than what ended up happening to us.” He shrugged slightly, a human gesture that he had picked up in his travels. Jason hadn’t seen it in any of the Perels who had never been off the planet. “Our scientists have managed to make a few minor changes over the years, but the beetles have continued to work flawlessly for the most part. They are more docile than the natural kind, and they head out to harvest and return very reliably.”

“You know a lot about this.”

“Not really. I was just a good student.”

“He paid far too much attention in classes,” Neyarr said, looping one arm around Ferran’s shoulders. “He learned your language faster than any of us. He spent far too much time studying. He was no fun at all.”

“That is why we had to accompany him beyond Perelan,” Garrell agreed. “So that he would not spend all of his time on educating his mind instead of educating his body.”

“Not that he spent all that much time educating his body,” Neyarr assured Jason. Ferran’s quills sharpened and his ears twitched, but Jason just stroked his thumb along Ferran’s hand.

“Do you want to take one of the walkways?” Garrell asked.

“Yes!” Neyarr pulled Ferran to the left, and Jason and Garrell followed. There was a walkway, long and thin and rickety, leading out into the trees. It swayed a little beneath their feet as they walked along, and Jason kept his free hand firmly on the rail. The sounds of leaves rustling, rain falling, and the whisper-light thrush of thousands of legs moving against the spongy soil filled Jason’s ears. When they finally stopped, he was grateful because he could focus on the sounds of the world around him.

“See the little ones?” Ferran murmured, guiding his gaze with a gesture. “They’re the nestlings. They’re still trying to find their way to the right groups.” Sure enough, smaller spots of brightness down in the long, twining lines of insects were muddling through and creating havoc as they sought out beetles of the same color. Jason smiled a bit, watching them.

Snap! A sound like a cracking branch suddenly echoed, and Jason turned his head toward the disturbance. A cluster of beetles had been separated and overturned, each of them flailing to find its feet again. In the center of their mass was an emptiness, and above it… one of the beetles was rising into the air, its shell appearing and disappearing in the gloom. What the hell….

“Scissor mouth!” Garrell said excitedly. “I’m surprised one was able to get roots in this close to the factory. Can you see it, Jason?”

“I think so.” It was hard—the plant was perfectly camouflaged—but he thought he could make out the projections sticking through the beetle’s hard shell. Something that looked like a dense vine twined above it, attached to the lowest part of the tree canopy.

“That’s a big one,” Neyarr added, tilting his head as he surveyed it. “They have to be big to pick up a mature bark beetle. The largest of them can consume a grown Perel if we are not wary of them….”

“We should let the matriarch know when we return,” Ferran said. “It isn’t safe for a scissor mouth to be so close to the workers.”

Jason didn’t say anything; he just watched as the beetles reassembled their lines and continued on their trek. After a few minutes, bits and pieces of shining shell began to fall from the sky, but the beetles pressed on, unaware or uncaring of their comrade’s grisly demise. Ascertaining whether or not there were any other sentient creatures on Perelan was one of Jason’s more covert assignments from Giselle, and after that display, he could safely attest that the beetles were in all likelihood not fully sentient creatures.

After a few more minutes, the rainfall began to increase, and Jason’s eyes started to burn. Ferran looked at him concernedly. “We should leave.”

“What about the walkways on the other side?”

“I have seen enough.” They headed back toward the platform, and Jason was happy to get a surface under his feet that was just bouncy, and not also mobile from side to side. Another group of visitors was just preparing to head out, and Jason had his first true moment of unpleasantness of the day.

Seronn of Tlann was leading a group of five other males toward the walkway, and as soon as he saw whom he was facing, his whole demeanor changed, instantly becoming more forward, more arrogant. “Greetings to the sons of the House of Grenn,” he said in Perel, inclining his head as he did so, but his eyes stayed on Ferran.

“Greetings, Son of Tlann,” Ferran said formally. The flatness of his ears let Jason know just how unhappy he was with this sudden meeting, but his voice was normally inflected.

“How did you find the view?”

“Beautiful.” Ferran turned to Jason. “Didn’t you think so?” he asked in the Federation tongue.

“Very,” Jason agreed in the same language.

“I thought your new consort was supposed to be learning as well as instructing,” Seronn said, and there was no mistaking the mockery in his voice. “But, then, I have also heard that he is not as adept with his lips as he is with his hands. Perhaps you could tell me the truth of the matter.”

Ferran’s hand tightened spasmodically on Jason’s, but he still maintained his outward calm. The twins were tense, flanking Jason and Ferran, silent but watchful. Seronn’s own party kept a careful distance. “My consort is talented in everything he does. Please move out of our way.”

“My matriarch bid me speak with you as soon as I had the chance,” Seronn continued as though he hadn’t heard a thing. “I was going to pay a visit to you at your household, but chance has led us to meet here. Would you step aside with me for a moment?” He glanced at Jason. “What I have to say is meant for your ears alone.”

“I do not keep secrets from my consort.” The immediate response soothed Jason’s rising temper.

“Then you will surely tell him everything afterward, but my instructions are clear. The words I have to say are to be heard by you alone.” He inclined his head again. “Please indulge me.”

Ferran didn’t move, and after a moment, Jason realized he probably wouldn’t without some sort of sign that Jason was okay. “It’s fine,” he murmured in Ferran’s ear. “I’ll be fine, just stay close.”

“Very well.” Ferran reluctantly let go of his hand and stepped forward. Seronn smiled at him and smirked at Jason, and then the two of them walked twenty feet away, close to the edge of the platform. Neither party moved. Twitching and shifting their weight as if they expected to have to run at any moment, Seronn’s companions watched Jason and the twins nervously. Jason kept his eyes locked on his husband, waiting for any sign that he was needed.

The conversation was short—less than a minute—and Seronn bowed and returned to his group. He led them in the opposite direction, and a moment later, Ferran was back. He kept his eyes lowered, and his quills lay rigidly flat along his back, the visible symbol of an emotion that Jason had never seen in his lover before. Jason drew him close, stroking down from his shoulder to his hand. “Ferran….”

“I want to leave now.” Ferran’s voice was low and dispirited.

“That’s fine. That’s fine, we can leave.” Moving as one, the group of them headed for the entrance to the factory. A silent male met them at the door and escorted them through the passage, then bowed them out.

Their shuttle and driver were waiting for them. Ferran entered first, without looking at any of them. Jason glanced over at the twins in consternation.

“We will get another shuttle,” Neyarr said loudly, hanging on to his brother’s arm. “There are people we want to see in town. We’ll be back later. Much later. You two go.”

“Yes,” Garrell said, catching on after a moment, “you go on. Go home.”

Jason didn’t need to be told again. He got into the shuttle, closed the door behind him, and moved over to sit beside Ferran. To his surprise, Ferran didn’t move to embrace him or curl into him or shift to sit on his lap, which Jason had half expected. He just sat there. The shuttle began to move.

“Ferran. Talk to me.” To Jason’s surprise, his husband didn’t respond—he just turned farther toward the window.

“Ferran.”

“Not here.”

Jason sighed. “Then at least come over here.” When Ferran barely twitched, he added honestly, “It will make me feel better.”

Ferran turned and looked at him, searching for confirmation. With a slow shuffle, he closed the last little distance between them and leaned against Jason’s chest. The stiffness in Ferran’s body relaxed somewhat as Jason’s arms came around him. After a few more seconds, he was clinging ferociously, and it was all Jason could do to breathe against the pressure. He didn’t say anything, though. He just held on and prayed that whatever had happened between the two Perels, it was something he could fix.

It was only once they were back in their den, the door firmly shut against intrusion, that Ferran seemed to get his composure back. They sat facing each other on the couch, Ferran twitching a little but not making another move toward Jason. There was silence for a while. Jason did his best not to hurry his husband, but his ability to silently put up with Ferran’s pain was almost gone by the time he spoke.

“Seronn told me…. He told me that he knows of the depths of your ability, and that you are not capable of keeping me. He told me that there are many who think our marriage is a sham to increase the bargaining power of the House of Grenn. He told me that even after our marriage is over, there are still respectable families who would be honored to have me as a consort, despite the way I was used for a year. Then he told me he missed my company and looked forward to more of it.”

Hearing that pushed Jason to the frayed limits of his control, limits that were considerably easier to breech when they concerned his husband. His smoldering temper flared wildly, it seemed a flame must glare through his eyes so brightly he was glad Ferran kept his head down, so he couldn’t see how violent Jason felt. Admittedly, he probably could sense it, but there was little Jason could do about that. He rode the emotion out, calming himself for a few seconds before saying in a nearly normal voice, “He won’t be getting any more of your company.”

“No.” Still, Ferran wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Jason tried a different tack to draw his husband out. “What happened between the two of you before you met me is the past. I would never hold you responsible for that.”

“I know.” Ferran’s eyes rose, but they darted back and forth before finally settling on Jason. “But I should have rebuked him. I should have done something! I just stood there and let him speak to me, let him say those awful things about you, and I didn’t say anything!”

“He surprised you.”

“I am supposed to be improving my ability to stand up for what I believe in. I am supposed to be learning how to negotiate, how to deal with difficult people. How good an ambassador for Perelan will I be when I can’t even stand up to one of my own people?”

“That just takes practice.” Ferran started shaking his head again, but Jason stopped him. “No, I’m serious, it just takes practice. I was terribly shy when I went into the Academy. My teachers thought I was mute for a while, I kept so silent. It took me years to learn to speak out, but it can be learned, and you’ll pick it up much faster than I did. You will.” Jason kissed his husband’s forehead. “You will. I have faith in you.”

“I feel like I failed you,” Ferran said, but at least he was meeting Jason’s eyes now without hesitation.

“You didn’t. You don’t. You won’t.” Jason touched their right temples together and cupped Ferran’s face with his hand, breathing in his lover’s sweet, slightly musky scent. He was out of words, but they had helped to bank the flames again, and when Ferran’s hesitant hand rose to caress the side of his face, the fire inside of him died down almost entirely.

Ferran’s caress went from gentle and warm to something more, slowly but surely sliding down Jason’s body until it reached his groin. Jason’s breath caught against his lover’s ear, and Ferran sighed happily. “Let me care for you,” he whispered.

“How do you want me?”

“Just lean back,” Ferran said, pushing and tugging at Jason until his back was propped up on cushions and his legs extended along the length of the couch. Ferran hovered on all fours over Jason, close enough to feel the heat but not quite close enough to touch, before his facile mouth descended. He kissed Jason long and deep, before sliding his lips and tongue around to trace the shell of Jason’s ear, the line of his jaw, and the hollow spaces between the taut tendons of his neck. Jason raised his hands to touch Ferran, but his lover shied away. “Not yet.”

It took a supreme act of will, but Jason kept himself still and let Ferran take his time undressing him. Jason often played with Ferran this way, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had been passive with a lover. It certainly wasn’t often that his husband wanted to touch instead of be touched, but if that was what Ferran wanted, Jason wasn’t about to stop him.

Ferran’s tongue was rough, almost too rough on the tender skin of Jason’s genitals, but against his bare chest and abdomen the friction felt good. That exquisite tongue touched every plane and rise of Jason’s body, from the little divot of his belly button to the points of his hips. Fingers followed, and they were a soothing balm following the roughness of Ferran’s mouth, smooth and teasing against the skin. Jason’s hands clenched before he forced them to relax again and not reach upward toward the thing they yearned for.

The foreplay was enjoyable enough to put Jason on edge, and when Ferran bared Jason’s cock and lowered his mouth over it, Jason tensed for the rough, curling sweep of tongue that he knew was coming, that he both craved and resisted. When Ferran’s lips sank over the head, Jason’s breath caught; a moment later, it caught again, because instead of the roughness he had expected there was only the wet heat of lips chasing his cock down to the root. That far back, Ferran’s tongue was smooth, not rough, and the sensation made him quiver.

Ferran’s fingers slid inside his mouth to stroke against the first few inches of Jason’s swollen dick, and he moaned at the feel of it. He sighed when those fingers left, then started in surprise when he felt two of them press against his hole. Ferran was insistent, gently sucking with his mouth, but pressing hard with those fingers, and after a moment Jason relaxed and let them inside. They went immediately to his prostate, and it only took a few seconds of purposeful stroking before Jason shouted and came inside Ferran’s smooth, sweet mouth, spasming around the fingers that held him captive.

Slowly, Jason came down from the high, and he realized that Ferran’s head was resting on his belly, right beside his spent cock. The fingers were still inside of him, but it didn’t hurt or feel good, really; it was just a statement of intent, physical intent, which said, This is mine. Jason didn’t mind the possessiveness, but after a moment, he did have to shift away.

“Ferran….” Jason’s throat was hoarse from shouting and from too much time spent in the acidic rain, but the burn felt good. “Ferran… you….”

“I am perfect.” Ferran nuzzled his face into Jason’s abdomen and sighed quietly. “I am content.”

“You haven’t come.”

“I don’t want to right now. I want to care for you. That is as important to me as any pleasure for myself.” He looked up at Jason’s face, his eyes huge and glistening. “And I know it is all right, because you will give me this. You will give me anything. This is one more level of the depths that you hold, and you will never have to work to keep me, because everything you are captivates me. You give me what I need, and you let me have what I want. This is better than so much else. This is one of the best things.”

“I love you,” Jason told Ferran, and what he meant was, I adore you. I would do anything for you, face anyone for you, give you whatever you want, as long as it meant we could be together in the end. Even if it feels unfair, I would give it to you. I will always take care of you.

“I know.”

Chapter Twelve

THE NEXT day was the twins’ rhezan, and Jason thought he might be more anxious about it than they were. The event had been built up so much by everyone, even those not directly involved or invited, that it took on an almost-mythic quality.

“It’s an incredible honor for you,” Giselle told him. “The rhezan is an intensely emotional thing, from what I understand. I’ve been trying to get an invitation to attend one for over a decade, without any success. Yours and Ferran’s will be the first I’m ever privy to, and no doubt, it’ll be somewhat adulterated given who you are, but still, I’m looking forward to it.”

“About that….”

“You can’t get out of it, so stop trying,” Giselle advised Jason with a half smile. “Yeah, your other mother has told me all about your reluctance. Jason, showmanship and celebrity are inextricably interlocked with your position. There ain’t no getting out of it, kid.” She laughed when he raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I was watching westerns yesterday. I couldn’t come into the city—things have been tense along the edge.”

“What’s been happening?”

“Oh, a few raids by the Shamed.” Those were Perels who had broken the laws of Berenze so badly that they had been deported to a distant spot in the jungle. Some eventually made their way back to the city to beg reentrance and many others died, but a few managed to thrive in the perilous environment, and those were the ones whose bitterness and anger toward their own kind drove them to attack the edges of the city. “Two families from the working class have been killed in the past month, and the Council is sending out more security forces every day. It’s actually kind of difficult for them to make the numbers, because the only people in this place who have the slightest hint of strategic combat training are the duelists, and by law, there’s only one official duelist per House. It’s only lately that they’ve reinstituted the title of ‘defender’ and started building up their security forces.”

“Are you all right out there?” Jason asked with concern. Giselle might only be his mother in name, but he still felt obligated to do what he could to help her, and if that meant helping to keep her safe, then he would work to ensure that.

“We’re fine,” Giselle assured him. “My little compound is the most securely guarded on this whole planet. Only myself, my staff, and the members of the Council know the codes to get through my environmental shield, and there are additional fail-safes on the inside that the matriarchs don’t know about.”

“Good.”

“So stern and terse,” she clucked at him. “Stop worrying and cheer up, Jason. Think about the unique cultural experience you’re about to have. Take plenty of mental notes—I’m going to want a full debrief on how this goes down after the celebration ends.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Giselle regarded him for a long moment, then chuckled. “God, what you do to these people. I’ve had more questions thrown at me in this past month than I’ve fielded for the entirety of my career. You’re so prim and proper most of the time that the Council thinks they should be able to anticipate you, and then the next moment, you go and give the favored consort of the heir of House Tlann discipline in your class like he’s a child. Yes, I hear everything,” she added at Jason’s questioning look. “Push-ups. Every class. That boy is gold as far as his matriarch is concerned, and Tlann is upset already that they didn’t get Ferran’s marriage contract, and here you are disregarding the expected protocol and making Seronn’s evenings a misery.”

“He’s an ass,” Jason said succinctly. “And I’m not doing it for my own gratification.” Liar, his mind whispered slyly. “I’m doing it because every class he takes, he mouths off and breaks the rules. So he gets a few extra push-ups.” Hundreds of them actually.

“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about the two of you. There are stories about how you were lovers before Seronn left you at the end of his tour, tales of how he stole your husband away, all full of the requisite melodrama, I assure you. In fact, half of the questions thrown my way lately concern this kind of gossip. Care to clue me in?”

Yet another crack appeared in the veneer of privacy that Jason had treasured for so much of his life. “I’ve never slept with Seronn, but he did sleep with my former partner over a year ago.” Giselle made an And? gesture with her hand, but Jason closed his lips firmly in front of his tongue and said nothing else.

“It’s like pulling teeth with you sometimes,” Giselle sighed. “Fine. Can you continue to handle him in your class, or do you think he needs to go?”

“I think he’s disruptive, but not so much that he needs to leave the class,” Jason replied. “I certainly won’t ask him to leave, and I don’t think you should either.”

“As a demonstration of control, I know. I just wanted to make sure you were all right with that.”

Honestly, I’d like you to pull him out of my class by his ears and send him packing back to his wife, far enough away that he can’t even look at Ferran anymore. “I’m fine with it.”

“Good.” The rest of their meeting was spent on other, less personal things, for which Jason was grateful.

RHEZAN CEREMONIES were a big deal to the Perel—Jason knew that, intellectually. Such an event would naturally have a lot of guests, and he’d known that too. He hadn’t expected the ceremony to be conducted in the equivalent of a huge amphitheater, with benches placed in staggered rows up from an open space in the center of the room. More than a thousand Perel packed the benches, and down in the center of the auditorium were Matriarch Ylenn, the heir to the House of Lronn, and her four consorts, all dressed in welcoming green. Each of the males held one of the orange flowers that had graced Jason and Ferran’s bed when they first arrived, and they all looked excited and full of anticipation.

Jason tried to memorize more details about what was happening. The amphitheater smelled like musk and tangerines, and the continuous murmur of Perel voices was like a deep buzz in the back of his brain. Jason had expected music, but to his surprise, the Perel weren’t a very musical people. They preferred natural sounds to the kind they could make themselves, and more often than not, anything playing in a home or shop was the call of an animal or the wind rushing through leaves, mixed so that it was rhythmic in a way the Perel liked.

The first time Jason had played some of his own music in their den, a synth-viola solo, members of his extended family had stood outside the hall to listen to it before Ferran took pity and invited them in. It had turned into an impromptu party, and the inclusion had made his family happy. That benefit was worth the breach in Jason’s crumbling fortress.

The room was almost entirely dark, naturally, and Jason liked the anonymity that lent him, even if it was false. The small open space in the center was the only part that was lit, and that was just with a diffuse light from above. The waiting members of the House of Lronn seemed to glow nevertheless.

Ferran sat next to Jason, his hand on Jason’s knee quivering with excitement. “They are coming now—my mother is bringing them out!” Sure enough, a moment later, the noise level rose as Grenn walked down an aisle, pulling Neyarr and Garrell behind her. Grenn was adorned in a very impressive set of brown and gold robes, which Jason had been informed symbolized an ending. Brown was the color that Perels were buried in. The twins wore loose brown robes as well, liberally decorated with the symbol of the House of Grenn.

Grenn began to speak. She was too far away for Jason’s translator to be able to make out her words, but Ferran noticed him straining to hear and translated it softly for him. “She says that today is a day of sadness and mourning for her. Today she loses two of the sons of her House, two fine and beautiful pups. After today they will be as memories to her, because they will belong to a new family, one which is worthy of them. How are you worthy of them?”

Ferran paused as the fat, green-robed matriarch facing Grenn began to speak. “Ylenn says that…. She says that none of her consorts have ever wanted. She gives them shelter and care, and children to love. She listens to the wise advice of her consorts, and she protects them from the harshness of the world. She and her family are ready to welcome Neyarr and Garrell into their den and into their hearts. She says they are a gift that she will strive to repay for the rest of her life.”

Grenn started again. “My mother says that she believes Ylenn will give them a good home. She asks permission for these sweet memories to visit after their time of adjustment is over, so that they may share the wisdom of the House of Lronn with those they left behind. Ylenn…. She says yes.” Ferran leaned forward. “Now my mother must say good-bye to Neyarr and Garrell and make them leave.”

“Make them leave?”

Grenn turned the twins to face her and kissed each on the mouth very solemnly. Then she turned them back around to face Ylenn and her consorts and tore the brown robes from their backs. The twins were left naked, and Jason could hear their labored breathing all the way from where he sat. A second later, Grenn reached out, gripped the rigid quills at the backs of their heads firmly, and then yanked them down. There was a horrible ripping sound, and Jason could see that she had pulled a handful of bloody quills out of each of them. Judging by the way the twins cringed and mewled and the crowd seemed to tense as one, it probably hurt like a bitch.

Jason watched, stony-faced but heart racing, as the twins tottered across the floor and into the waiting arms of Ylenn, who gave each of them a brief, ritual kiss before turning them over to her consorts, who received the pair with much more excitement. While their nudity was covered with new green robes, the two matriarchs inclined their heads to each other, and then the two parties exited the amphitheater on different sides.

Celebration followed. Jason knew this because he was told as much, and because there was traditional food that squirmed on the platters that held it and two types of tea: Grenn-sweet and Lronn’s far more sour style, which Jason couldn’t drink as it hurt his throat. There was constant chatter, lively conversation, and more purring and smiles than Jason had seen since his arrival a month ago, but he didn’t really feel up to participating. What he had seen was staying with him, and not in a positive way.

Jason watched Ferran drift away into the crowd, happy for the moment not to have his mood scrutinized by his husband. He could see Corran out of the corner of his eye, sticking close, and he knew that would annoy Ferran, but it didn’t really bother him. Maybe the kid actually had something to practice by now.

Jason let his feet carry him around the edges of the room. For the most part, he wasn’t noticed; in uncomfortable social situations in the past, he’d been able to practically disappear, even if he was surrounded by people, simply by being still and silent. He thought about taking that course now, but for some reason, his feet kept going, as though they were looking for something and hadn’t let his brain in on the secret yet. He didn’t know what their goal was until they stopped five feet away from Grenn, who was holding court with a group of lesser matriarchs. When she noticed him, she stopped speaking.

He took rapid stock of his emotional state. Nothing seemed overtly antagonistic, and none of the other matriarchs looked anything other than curious as to why he was standing there. After one long look at his face, Grenn excused herself with a polite purr and moved over to Jason’s side. “Come. We’ll talk elsewhere.”

The amphitheater wasn’t far from the Council House—it was actually a part of the extensive underground facility branching out from the Council’s meeting room. Grenn and Jason walked for a few minutes in silence, until finally, Grenn opened a door and ushered him in to a small room. There were two chairs, a table, and nothing else. “Now we can talk,” she said.

“You’re not doing that to Ferran.” The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to censor them, and upon reflection, Jason wasn’t at all sorry they were said.

“I most certainly will preside over my own son in his rhezan.”

“Not if it means injuring him, you won’t.”

“The quills grow back,” she said soothingly. “It is symbolic as well as practical. Caring for those small, ritual wounds will help to bond a matriarch and her new consorts. It is tradition.”

“It won’t help Ferran bond with me,” Jason told her. “I’m not a matriarch, and Ferran and I have had enough barriers without having to deal with you brutalizing him.”

“You will mind your tone with me.”

Jason had never heard a growl so low. He swallowed back the next few things that had been clamoring to come out of his mouth and took a deep breath instead.

Grenn went on after a moment. “You do not fully understand our culture. What you saw was as expected as it is accepted, and no lasting harm was done to either of my nephews. I went so far as to modify their ceremony for you, so that they will be free to return and assist you once their integration into their new family is complete. You should be thanking me.”

“Thank you.”

Grenn’s eyes narrowed. “You are very challenging to read at times. Was that impudence or impatience?”

“Neither. I appreciate the trouble you went to to make sure Neyarr and Garrell could come back to see us.” All of that was true. “I don’t appreciate the prospect of being forced to participate in a ceremony that doesn’t fit what I have with Ferran. I can’t see us doing that right now. I can’t honestly see myself being comfortable with that at any time in the foreseeable future.”

“That is a personal failing that you will need to work on,” Grenn said evenly, the deepness gone from her tone even if the seriousness wasn’t. “You have some time yet.”

Time. Jason felt like he was being pulled in two by time, both drowning in the endless months that still stretched out in front of him and groping for more time than the little bit they’d had—to stave off the future and hold back what seemed inevitable. Time was subjective, but it wasn’t kind.

The communicator at his hip beeped. Jason slowly detached it and raised the speaker to his mouth, ignoring Grenn’s smug, complacent stare. “Yes?”

“Jason, what happened? Why did you leave?”

“I needed to talk to Grenn about some things.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. “Is she still with you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to come to you? I can leave here.”

“That’s all right,” Jason assured him. “I’m fine. Stay at the party.”

“Will you come back?”

“At some point, maybe. I feel a little off.” Angryhungrysickofthistiredtiredtired. “I might go home for a while.”

“I can meet you there.”

“Really, it’s okay. Take your time, I know there are a lot of people you want to talk to.” And people who wanted to talk to him but hadn’t fit into Ferran’s hypercrowded schedule. Friends he hadn’t reconnected with yet, brought together thanks to the rhezan.

“I’ll be back soon, then. Please call me if you feel worse.”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He ended the call and put the communicator back, ignoring Grenn’s stare.

“You lie to him,” she said with a knowing little smile.

“Not about the important things.” So Jason didn’t feel ill like he’d implied, exactly. He didn’t feel like trying to be engaging in a room full of curious Perel either.

“Everything is important.” Grenn chuckled suddenly. “You two still have so much to learn. You lie to save his feelings, and Ferran…. Ah, my son is in love.” She waved one thick, stubby hand. “Love makes fools. You two will learn.”

Jason didn’t know what they were supposed to learn, and he didn’t feel like asking. He inclined his head, waited a second for her acknowledgment, and then left without a backward glance. He managed to get one of the shuttles Grenn had put on standby to take him back to their den, and only once he was alone did he really allow himself, for the first time in a long time, to curse out loud.

He knew, he knew, in detail, the list of his own failings. Jason had never been prone to self-flattery, and he knew the myriad of ways in which he could be better: a better captain, a better lover, a better friend. A better person. He knew just how poor he was at managing relationships—life with Blake and the brief lovers who had come before him had demonstrated that—but he’d never really thought he’d have that kind of difficulty with Ferran. Because Ferran loved him with a fervor that took Jason’s breath away, and it was warm and constant and Jason craved it like he needed air. But even the air could hurt to breathe here on Perelan.

Jason needed to clear his head. He thought about trying to meditate and even went so far as to sit down and get into position, but he was too tense and twitchy to make any progress. His practice had suffered since his arrival on Perelan, and now wasn’t the time to ease back into it. He stood up and went into the studio, so much more spacious than anywhere else in their den, and he closed his eyes. The middle of the floor was clear of equipment, and it was where Jason worked out the katas before he taught them to his classes, the movement encouraging his brain to remember things it hadn’t had to do in so long. Maybe a moving meditation would work where a seated one hadn’t.

He moved into the salute position, bending his knees slightly and raising his fists so that they were level with his chest. The next move was usually accompanied by a keeyai, a call that summoned up energy, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the silence right now. He stepped wordlessly into the next move and then the next, working his way through the kata. Instead of relaxing him like it usually did, though, Jason just felt choked.

Finally, he finished and opened his eyes. They came to rest on the photographs of his parents, framed and sitting on the table along with some of Ferran’s paintings. Ferran had wanted to make frames for them—painted frames, and he had just finished yesterday. Jason walked over to the picture that showed his parents together on the balcony of their home. God, he missed that balcony. He missed them.

Jason picked up the other photograph, the one of just his mother, staring down at one of her butterfly houses and smiling faintly. For the first time in a long time—perhaps spurred by the realization that the “mothers” he had now were nothing like the one he remembered—Jason spoke to the picture. “I miss you. So much.”

When he was upset as a child, Jason had taken care not to show it. His parents had already been worried by his nightmares, and Jason’s father was a good man, but not good at being comforting. Min-suh always seemed to know what was going on, though, no matter how Jason tried to hide his feelings. At night, instead of tucking him in and leaving, she would sit at his bedside and stroke his hair, singing soft songs in Korean that it took Jason years to understand. She had smelled like tea, green tea, and her hair had been soft around her plain, beloved face.

Jason’s mother had understood him—all of his moods and his quirks. With her, he had never had to explain or justify himself. Even if she didn’t agree with him, she understood why he did what he did.

He missed a lot of things. Jason hadn’t let himself consciously miss most of those things, but it was a never-ending ache inside, something that diminished and flared depending on the day. It was connected to those flames of anger inside of him, the temper that he also tried not to acknowledge. But just because he was ignoring his problems didn’t mean they weren’t still there, and for a minute, Jason just let himself miss everything. He wanted wood floors beneath his feet and the crispness of a uniform and the comprehensible command structure of a ship. He wanted wild storms and butterflies and kimchi and a fucking beer, which he hadn’t even realized he would miss until it was impossible for him to get one. He wanted air that didn’t burn and water that didn’t sear, and he wanted to fall asleep with Ferran in his own bed, firm and supportive, not the soft, sagging thing they slept on here.

There’s the rub. Jason wanted to fall asleep with Ferran. No matter how much he missed the comforts of his old life, Jason knew he wanted Ferran more than anything else. “So stop it,” he told himself firmly. One month, and he was acting like this? Foolish, even if he was the only one who ever knew. Fool.

He would do better. He would. But there was still no way he was going to let Grenn do that to Ferran, not even if it meant that he ended up in a penitent’s cage for defying her. No. Just no.

Feeling marginally better, Jason went to take a shower. He made a small meal and ate it, then got into bed by himself. He was alone when he fell into a restless sleep and still alone an hour later when he woke up, sweaty and shuddering, out of a nightmare. Jason gave up on sleeping after that.

Chapter Thirteen

THE TWINS had had an insulating effect on Jason and Ferran’s day-to-day life that Jason had taken for granted until it was gone. They were friendly and knowledgeable and they cared enough for their cousin to make the effort to be kind to Jason, useful to him. He had appreciated them, but not really thought about the consequences of them not being there. Now that they weren’t, he was learning very quickly that the road was a lot bumpier than he had realized.

Which wasn’t to say that there weren’t a lot of Perels in Grenn’s House who were anxious to spend time with him, because there were. One of them was Corran, and Jason actually did enjoy his company, but he seemed very young to Jason, and yet, he was trying to act the part of a protector. That didn’t sit very well since Jason was accustomed to taking care of himself, and Corran didn’t seem to think that he could do anything alone.

In the end, Jason chose a small cadre of Perels who could speak to him and seemed gregarious enough to make up for his tendency toward shyness. He went out with one or two of them on a rotating basis for his long, dark afternoon hours.

In some ways, it brought Jason and Ferran closer together. They spent more time together, just the two of them, in the evenings, cooking and talking and working in the studio. They still spent tremendous amounts of time practicing their various tasks and lessons, but they had always done that together, and spending time alone in Ferran’s company had never been difficult for Jason.

However, losing the twins also meant that Ferran’s sounding boards were gone, and Jason knew that there were things that his husband had talked out with his cousins before, things that bothered him or disturbed him, and he didn’t have that option now. There was his mother, but Jason had insisted that if Ferran had a problem with something concerning their personal lives, he talk to Jason before he talk to Grenn. Jason just couldn’t take his mother-in-law being more involved in their private business than she already was. From what he knew about his husband, however—and it was clearer every day that he still had a lot to learn—Ferran was more likely to keep quiet than bring up something he thought might upset Jason.

Time continued to creep by, one month and then another disappearing in slow, steady days. Jason experienced the dry season, which meant that their part of the continent had a period of about a month and a half where the rain fell only once a day, instead of interminably. The dryness in the air was refreshing for Jason, and he went to the garden whenever he could make the time, usually while Ferran was still asleep, to look at the sun—actually look at it—and experience the world without his eyes burning and his throat clogging. Occasionally, Ferran came with him, getting pleasure out of Jason’s pleasure, even though the dryness wasn’t his favorite thing. Jason didn’t know how he and his cousins had traveled on climate-controlled ships for a year without desiccating.

Officially, the twins were still in their adjustment period and weren’t talking to anyone outside the House of Lronn. Unofficially, Grenn had seen them numerous times, and Corran was training with their house’s duelist, so he saw them as well. From all reports, they were doing fine, tasked with taking care of the youngest children and filling their new roles with determination.

“But they are bored,” Corran added. “Neyarr said it is much more exciting over here, and Garrell wished that Ylenn would let them bring their holo emitter over. But they are having a lot of sex with the other consorts, so that makes them happy.”

Jason pinched his fingers on the bridge of his nose and considered explaining to Corran the concept of Too Much Information, but sexual privacy was as rare as every other kind of privacy here, and he figured it would be a lost cause.

At the beginning of his fourth month on Perelan, things were going as smoothly as Jason felt he could reasonably expect. He and his husband had their stilted, difficult moments, and yes, the comic relief was mostly gone with the twins, but a lot of the small stressors of life, like absolute inability with language, learning about Perel foods, and understanding what his House expected of him, were going away. Jason still spoke terrible Perel, but he had enough of the basics that he could work with the occasionally garbled sentences that came through in his translator. He and Ferran alternated cooking duties.

The classes he taught were going well, for the most part. Seronn seemed to have settled down, with perfect attendance and a watchful demeanor that made Jason uneasy without knowing why. He didn’t bring it up to anyone, although from the brooding looks Corran was giving the other Perel, there was something in the emotional undercurrent that merited caution. Jason just didn’t know what it was.

“It” happened in a moment when he had been called out of class to receive a message from Grenn—not the sort of thing Jason could ignore, no matter how much he felt that a request to see her after class could have waited. When he returned to the classroom, Corran and Seronn were facing off with each other in the center, their growls so low and fast they were almost a hiss and their quills sharp and rigid enough that they pulled the skin up with them, giving the Perels a strangely tortured look.

The rest of the students had backed away, their eyes wide, whines of surprise and fear coming from their throats.

“What the hell is this?” Jason yelled, pushing past his trembling students and between the angry males. “What’s going on?” Neither of them said anything, but there was a satisfied look in Seronn’s face that Jason didn’t like seeing.

Seronn growled something vaguely intelligible, but before Jason could react, Corran yelled, “Speak his language in this place, filth!”

“Your mouth will kill you,” Seronn said darkly. “I will see to that.”

“What happened?” Jason projected his voice like he was commanding troops, and even though he hadn’t used that skill since retiring from the military, it was still effective. The pair’s quills relaxed a trifle, and they settled back onto their heels instead of leaning forward into each other’s faces.

“He spoke terribly of you,” Corran said hotly. “You left, and he turned to me and said that you are unfit to live here, that you are weak like an underfed pup, and that he looks forward to taking Ferran into his own house and using him like a lesser consort would be used. I told him he is wrong, he is filth and dirt and a liar, and he—”

“I challenged him to prove it, and he accepted,” Seronn said, and the gloating in his voice was unmistakable. “He is the duelist of the House of Grenn, and I am duelist for the House of Tlann. We will duel to prove who is right.”

“And I will beat you!” Corran shouted.

The implications sank in almost too fast for Jason’s body to react. All the ways that this could go flashed through his mind, and none of them were good for Corran if he dueled.

“No. You two won’t do this.”

“The challenge was delivered and he accepted,” Seronn hissed. “It is tradition that not even you can break.”

“This is my class, and both of you are my students. Your actions in this place are my responsibility, and I’m going to handle this. I forbid Corran from fighting you over an insult to me. If you’re determined to duel about something so petty, then you’re going to face me instead.”

“No!” Corran wailed, but Jason had already made up his mind.

Seronn, for his part, lit up like he had been given a gift. In a sick way, he had. “Accepted,” he said smoothly, his quills already settling.

Corran was so tense he was trembling, but Jason ignored him to look Seronn in the eye. “Leave.”

“My matriarch shall contact you.” He turned and walked out without a backward glance.

Only if there’s anything left of me after my matriarch gets through with me.

IT TURNED out that Jason didn’t have to break the news to Grenn. She knew about the duel long before he made it to her office in the Council House, Corran trailing miserably in his wake, and to say she was furious would have been a grand understatement.

“You are an alien, and aliens cannot accept duels!”

“I thought you wanted me to be more integrated,” Jason said wearily. Giselle had just arrived, and she was as mad as Grenn, and he was tired of being yelled at. “Consider me your interim duelist.”

“This is the most ridiculous path to integration anyone could ever conceive of! Are you suicidal, to accept Seronn’s proposition?” Grenn demanded.

“I’m not suicidal.” But he was getting impatient with being treated like a child who had to be protected instead of an adult.

“Jason, don’t do this,” Giselle said, interrupting when Grenn looked like she was going to burst with rage. “You can’t do this. If you die, human-Perel relations will be irreparably damaged.”

“If I win, they’ll be immeasurably strengthened,” he challenged. “Won’t they?”

“Jason….” Giselle visibly forced herself to take a deep breath. She looked as though she were trying to gather strength, but he could see her worry was stronger than her annoyance. “Death is never a good option. Perel rules on dueling are very specific, and they always end with one party dying. You don’t even have what you need to duel—the only weapons Perels use are their own quills.”

“I’m sure we can come up with a substitute for me to use,” Jason replied.

“Jason—”

“Jason—”

“Would you rather I let Corran die?” he asked, speaking over both of his mothers. “Honestly, would that have been the better option? Because Seronn set him up to take this fall. He manipulated him and used him, and he would absolutely have killed him given the chance. I’m sorry.” Jason looked over at the young Perel sitting on a stool behind him, head so low that his chin slumped against his chest, “but I’ve taught you both and it’s true. You’re not skilled enough yet.”

“Of course I don’t want my nephew to be dead,” Grenn growled, “but there was the chance that I could have talked the House of Tlann out of a duel, if it had been a matter between the two of them. Now it is a matter with you, and Matriarch Tlann is being courted by the House of Srell. She will not let this opportunity slip from her, not when your death could result in new alliances for her house.”

“It was precipitous,” Giselle added. “It was short-sighted. It was downright dumb, Jason. You should have brought the problem here first before you signed on for a primitive fight to the death!”

Jason shut his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts and keeping the fire of anger swelling inside him from spewing out of his mouth, provoking him into telling off his mothers. “Neither of you were there,” he said at last. “I acted in the best way I knew how at the time. Second-guessing my decision from a position of ignorance after the fact isn’t going to help any of us. You should help me figure out what I can use in the fight and when it will be, not castigate me over how foolish I was to accept. It’s done.”

“The duel will be tomorrow,” Grenn said sourly, “of course. Traditionally, duels occur on the day of the acceptance, but it’s too late now. And I will not sleep this night, because now I have to negotiate for concessions that might save your foolish life. And you,” she said, opening her gleaming eyes wide and staring seriously at him, “will have to explain to my son, your consort, why you are throwing your life with him away.”

“I’m not going to die.”

“If you are very, very lucky, Seronn may not kill you. Ferran might still decide to, though.” She tilted her head. “You know his father died this way, don’t you?”

Yes…. Shit. Jason didn’t say anything, but Grenn read his feelings and smiled a twisted little smile. “Then you know the task you have ahead of you. Go home to him. Try to explain. I will come with the details of your duel when they are established.”

Giselle cast a frustrated glance at Grenn. “Surely there must be something you can do, some kind of loophole.”

“No. I will tell you why, but Jason should go home to his consort.” Grenn glanced at Corran. “And you shall walk home and think about what you have dragged your family into.”

Corran didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move except for a brief twitch of his ears.

Jason felt bad for him, but at this point, there was nothing he could do. He stood up, inclined his head to his worried, furious mothers, and walked out.

Despite the distance, Jason decided to walk home as well, to give himself time to think. Even in perfect hindsight, he didn’t regret his actions, but he wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Ferran why he had chosen to step in. Ferran didn’t like to talk about duels.

The little Jason had learned about dueling had come from the twins. “There is a room in the Council House that is reserved for them,” Neyarr had explained, his face solemn. “The actual space for the duels is enclosed, and surrounding that are places for the observers to sit. The cage is very dimly lit, but all else stays in darkness, to keep from distracting the duelists. It isn’t large, but there are handholds on the walls and the ceiling for the opponents to use if they wish to. For climbing,” he clarified. “A duel is a fight that occurs on all sides.”

“The weapons are our quills, of course,” Garrell had chimed in. “They are broken off and used during the fight. You cannot really throw them, but they stick in a wound and cannot be pulled out easily.”

“If a duelist is cruel, he can keep his opponent alive for hours. It is considered offensive but still acceptable. There is no time limit on a duel,” Neyarr had said. “It took Ferran’s father over a day to die. They all had to watch him suffer.”

Now Jason was going to put his husband in the same position.

He hadn’t looked forward to breaking the news to Ferran, but as it turned out, the news had been broken well before he got back. Perels of the House of Grenn mobbed him as he came in through the garden entrance, all of them talking, some of them pleading, and a few of the smaller ones crying. Grennson latched on to his leg and wouldn’t let go until Jason gave in and picked him up, carrying him all the way to the door of his own den before handing the pup off to another Perel.

“It couldn’t be helped” was all he said to the crowd as he walked. Before he went inside his den, he added, “Be kind to Corran.” Then he shut the door behind him, leaving just him and Ferran inside.

Jason felt cold, and he knew the shaking in his hands wasn’t from the walk. When he raised his eyes and saw Ferran sitting on the edge of the couch, a terrible look of desperate hope on his face, Jason felt lower than dirt.

“Tell me it is not true,” Ferran breathed, his voice so faint Jason could barely hear it. “Tell me you did not do this. You would not. You promised you would never leave me.”

“I couldn’t let Corran accept that duel.”

“You must not do this.” Ferran’s hands wrenched at the fabric beneath them, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned even paler from the strain. “My mother…. She must have a solution. There must be another way.”

“I already talked to her. There isn’t another way.” Jason pushed away from the door and moved closer. He was saddened, but not really surprised, when his husband moved farther back. “She’s going to do what she can for me, but I think at this point it’s mostly about what kind of weapon I’m going to be using since I don’t have any quills.”

“No… no, no.” Ferran’s voice got a little louder, and he shook his head violently. “There must be some way to prevent this. You aren’t the duelist for our house!”

“Ferran, there is no duelist right now for the House of Grenn,” Jason sighed. “There’s only a kid who wants to be one, and Seronn would murder him in a minute. It’s true I’ve never fought a Perel before, but I….” Remember that year, the hot sands, the blunt metal bars that took weeks to sharpen enough so that they killed as quickly as you wanted, the harsh reality where a choked-off, blood-filled scream meant you were doing the other person a favor…. “But I have done this sort of thing before. I can handle it.”

“How can you handle it?” Ferran asked with helpless, growing anger. “How can you handle what you do not know? We are stronger than you, we are faster, we see better in the darkness. Seronn will have a tremendous supply of weapons, and you will have what? How can you handle that?”

“However I have to,” Jason replied. His husband stared at him, eyes and mouth both gaping as strong emotions flooded his face, highlighted by a blistering sense of betrayal. “Ferran….” Jason reached toward him and cupped a hand around his neck, but pulled back almost immediately with a small hiss of pain.

They both looked down at his fingers, which were curling together against the blossoming pain of dozens of razor-thin cuts in the tender flesh.

Ferran keened, high and broken and desperate in the back of his throat. Jason reached out again, but Ferran leapt to his feet and ran out of their den a second later.

Jason watched the door swing closed with a kind of detached despair, already working on separating the urge to run after his husband and beg for forgiveness from the calm that had to keep his mind still and focused right now. So. That had gone about as expected—terribly, and with no redeeming results whatsoever.

He didn’t expect anyone else to bother coming to speak with him, so he moved over to the couch, lay down, and forced himself to relax enough to fall asleep, setting his mental alarm clock to go off in eight hours.

HIS ALARM didn’t get the chance to go off before a hand thumped down on his chest. “Wake up.”

Jason knew who it was before he opened his eyes, but he didn’t quite believe it even when he saw him. “I thought you were supposed to be adjusting.”

“That time is over,” Neyarr told him, his expression dark and serious. “Matriarch Grenn asked our new mother, Lronn, for our help in this time of crisis, and she agreed. Garrell is with Ferran.”

“Where is Ferran?” Jason asked, trying to ignore the fast, anxious beating of his heart. It wasn’t that he’d expected to see his husband here, exactly, but that he wasn’t made the fact that they’d fought so much worse.

“With his mother in an emergency meeting of the Council, trying to wring a few more concessions from them that might benefit you in this situation.” Neyarr sat back and shook his head. “It is stupid—”

“So everyone tells me.”

“Let me finish. It is a stupid reason to duel, but I am so grateful to you for Corran that I cannot say that it was the wrong thing to do.” Neyarr looked down at his twisting hands and then back up. “Our mother was Grenn’s sister, and she also was not very fertile. She had only four pups, and my sister died very young. Corran can be frustrating, but he is much loved, and he would probably have died today if you hadn’t helped him in this. Thank you.”

Astonishing. Someone actually thought Jason was doing the right thing. “You’re welcome.”

“That doesn’t mean that I will ever forgive you if you die,” Neyarr added, helping Jason to his feet before he could puzzle out what exactly the Perel meant by that. “We must find your sword now.”

“My sword?” A little knot of tension that Jason hadn’t even identified relaxed inside of him. “I get to use my sword?”

“The blade is less than two feet long, yes?”

“Just about two feet,” Jason said, leading the way back into the studio. He was aware of Neyarr avidly taking in the room, the half-finished paintings and the piles of carved wooden staffs in the corner, made for his students’ use when they advanced in ability.

“That will still be acceptable. Ferran convinced the matriarchs to let you use a weapon that you had experience with, and the blade is not much longer than the longest of Seronn’s quills.” He watched as Jason took the tube that held his sword out from behind a tapestry. He opened it up and the sword slid into his hand, the sheath and handle shining a deep, dark red.

“Will the color be an issue?” Jason asked, although frankly, the Perel concept of red as unfriendly was right in line with what he wanted to project right now.

“No. No one will really see the color anyway. What else do you need to do here?”

“I need to shower and change.” Boy, did he need to change.

“Go fast. Grenn wants you at the Council House within the hour. Your physician has to look you over before you can duel.”

“And the duel itself?”

“Scheduled to begin an hour after. Go and get ready.” He flicked his fingers impatiently at Jason. “I will make you something to eat.”

As Jason remembered it, cooking had never been one of Neyarr’s strengths, but he didn’t have the time to dispute it. “Something small,” he warned and then walked away into the bedroom.

He didn’t really look at the bed, their ridiculous, poofy, too-soft bed. It was so soft that it held the shapes of their bodies throughout the day, and Jason knew if he looked at it, he’d see his own flat shape and the crescent moon of Ferran curled around him. Instead, he focused on the shower, warm water and soap and fluffy towels.

Afterward, he looked through the clothes in his closet until he found what he was looking for. The pants were wider than he usually wore, broadening down his legs until the separate halves were barely distinguishable at the bottom. Jason had learned to comfortably move in them back when he’d studied kendo, and the sheer amount of cloth involved might make it harder for Seronn to attack his legs.

With the shirt, he went the other way, choosing one that was skintight, long-sleeved, and high-necked. He had worn it beneath power armor on some of his rougher missions, and the fabric was resistant to tearing, which would also be helpful. Jason pulled it on, pushing back memories as the silky fabric spread over his skin like water. He belted the sword to his waist, slipped his feet into a thin-soled pair of shoes, and walked back out to the kitchen.

Neyarr was sitting in a chair with a cup of tea and cut fruit spread out on a plate before him. He looked up at Jason, and instantly, his pupils blew open. “Jason… you look beautiful!”

Jason had to chuckle. “You sound so surprised.”

“I am. You’ve always hidden yourself with clothes. But why are you afraid to show this off?” Neyarr gestured at his body while Jason sat down. “You should dress like this all of the time. You are very, very nice to look at.” He straightened his back and pushed the cup of sweet tea toward Jason. “Starting tomorrow, you are going to vary your attire. Trust me, it will only make our people like you even better.”

“Starting tomorrow,” Jason agreed, warmed by the subtle assurance of faith. He drank half the tea, ate a few pieces of the mealy fruit, and then decided that was all his body was going to let him get away with right now. “I’m ready.”

“Then we will go.” Neyarr stood smoothly. “A shuttle is waiting to take us to your matriarch. The rest of the House of Grenn knows to give us a wide berth today.”

“How many people will be watching this duel?” Jason asked as they walked down the long, darkened hallway.

“Every member of the Council of Matriarchs, naturally. The House of Tlann will be allowed five representatives, as will the House of Grenn. And your human mother, Matriarch Howards, will be allowed to watch as well, along with her staff. Three in total for her, I suppose. For Grenn it will be the matriarch herself, Ferran, me, and both my brothers.”

Jason grimaced slightly. “I’d rather Corran didn’t watch this.”

“This duel is a direct result of his inability to control himself. Your matriarch thinks he needs to see it, whatever the outcome is, and I tend to agree with her. Don’t concern yourself with your audience, Jason. You should be thinking about your defense.

“You must guard your head.” The last came out very sternly. “Seronn is well acquainted with human anatomy, and he knows where you are most vulnerable. Our quills are tough, but they aren’t as hard as your steel. He knows that he has to go for the softest spots, and he will certainly try to blind you.”

“What’s the most common line of attack?” Something I should have asked sooner.

“Those who are strong prefer to play all the angles. He will come at you from above, below, and behind.”

“All right.” Get your back to a wall, move along it if you have to, and keep an eye out overhead. “What about grappling?”

“What is grappling?” Neyarr asked as they got into their shuttle.

“It’s like wrestling. Fighting on the ground.”

“All pups play this way, but I don’t think it’s something duelists do. It would be too easy to injure yourself while you were trying to injure your opponent. Also, he is stronger than you are, Jason. He would hold you down, and then it would be over.”

“I see.” Not that groundwork is my strong suit, but it’s something to think about. “What else can you tell me?”

By the time the ride was over, Jason was feeling somewhat better educated, but he had managed to scare Neyarr into silence with the weight of the possibilities. A crowd watched them walk into the Council House, and they detoured to Grenn’s personal office. She was there, along with Ferran, Garrell, and Giselle. Ferran’s cheeks were unnaturally flushed, and he looked up at Jason through his eyelashes, his face expressionless.

“Did you feed him?” Grenn asked her nephew.

“Yes, Matriarch.”

“Good. Jason,” she said, looking over at him, “the duel is scheduled for one hour from now. The room in which official duels take place is beneath this House, so you won’t have to go far. Officially, you are fighting as a representative of the House of Howards. The Council accepted your claim over Corran’s acceptance with the caveat that you took responsibility not only as a member of the House of Grenn, but also as the duelist of your human House, which has been officially recognized as an entity for several years. This does not confer any extra prestige or power on Howards, but it does make certain things more acceptable, such as your need for an artificial weapon.

“There are no absolute rules in a duel. It may be finished quickly. It may go on for a very long time. I suggest, for your sake, that you strive to end it fast. As soon as the cage closes behind both of you, the duel has begun. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Neyarr told me I was supposed to see Dori.” Jason was abstractly pleased to note that his voice barely shook.

“That’s another concession Grenn got you,” Giselle put in. “Dori wants to dilate your pupils and give you an injection that will help with pain and give you energy.”

Jason frowned. “I don’t want drugs.”

“Jason, Seronn has a physical advantage. Let us do what we can to mitigate that.”

“I need to meditate before I go in there, and if I’m dosed with uppers my heart will be beating so fast I won’t be able to focus. No drugs.”

Ferran whined very faintly, and Jason reached out a hand to him before he could stop himself. Ferran just stared at it blankly.

“You two should take a moment,” Grenn said. “The rest of us need to get to our seats. Your doctor is through that door.” She pointed at the adjoining room. “He will leave you there when he’s finished with you, and you’ll have what time remains to use as you like before one of the guards comes for you.” She stepped forward and laid her thick hand on his shoulder for a moment. “Be strong.” Then she left. Each of the twins gave him a hug before following her, leaving only Giselle.

“Jason.” She sighed, and he felt a little guilty at the deep lines of fatigue that creased her face. He had never seen her look so old before. “I wish to God that this had never happened. I would rather have left you lonely on Jacksonville than brought you here for this.”

“I’m going to be fine.”

“You’d better be.” She kissed his cheek, a dry brush of lips against his skin and then left.

Finally, there was only Ferran, and when he looked up, Jason could barely make out the amber of his eyes, they were so swollen and red.

“Sweetheart….” The endearment was out of his mouth before he knew it was coming, and this time, when he held out his hand, Ferran took it. He pressed feverish kisses to the scabbed-over cuts he’d made the night before and then threw himself into Jason’s arms.

“I am so sorry,” Ferran said over and over again. “So sorry, so, so sorry.”

Jason turned his head so that their temples were touching, and he moved one hand to cup his husband’s face. “It’s not your fault.”

“You could…. You could….” Ferran gulped past his tears. “You could run. You could go—I could get you a shuttle, and you could leave with the ambassador.”

Oh, Ferran. “I can’t do that.”

“I don’t understand you,” Ferran confessed in a small voice. “I don’t understand you at all. What is this emotion?” He laid the palms of his hands on Jason’s chest. “Why won’t you go? Why won’t you save yourself? I have felt human pride before, and this is not it.”

Well, it was partially pride. But only partially. “I have to go through with this. I can’t back out now—it would be a disaster for your House and for the human delegation here. Ferran….” He kissed his husband’s cheek and pulled back to look him in the eye. “I’m going to survive, okay? I know it’s hard to believe, but I swear to you, I’m not leaving you.”

Ferran’s face looked on the verge of crumpling, his eyes blinking rapidly and his lips trembling. He nodded once, jerkily, and then hugged Jason hard. “I love you.” He let go abruptly and was out of the room before Jason could say it back to him.

Jason watched the door shut once more and took a second to wipe his eyes and straighten out his breathing before he walked over to the adjoining room.

He slipped inside and was immediately confronted with a relentlessly upbeat Dori, as if acting like it was a normal day had the power to make it so. “Jason! Sit, sit.” He pointed to a chair. Jason sat. “How are you feeling today?” Yeah, just like it was a regular physical.

“Fine.”

Dori held out a diagnostic glove for Jason to put his hand into. He read the findings and pursed his lips. “Blood pressure and heart rate are a little high, for you. But I guess that stands to reason. Everything else looks pretty normal.” He handed Jason a glass of liquid. “Drink this, son.”

Jason looked at it dubiously. “What’s in it?”

“Water. Which you need right now—you’re a little dehydrated.” Dori watched Jason swirl the cup a few times and then gave a loud, exasperated sigh. “Look, I heard what you said. No drugs. I’m not going to go against your wishes, much as I’d like to. Drink it.”

Jason drank.

“Good. Now tilt your head back and open your eyes wide.”

Jason complied. “This is for enhancing my night vision?”

“Yep. You’ll be prancing around with big dewy eyes, just like some ancient Earth heroine dripping tincture of belladonna in for the same effect.” Dori added a few drops to each eye. “Don’t look directly at the light fixtures now. This will last for four hours, which should be plenty of time. I’ll be standing by close to the edge of the cage to patch you up once you finish with this little fucker.”

They smiled at each other, Jason with more appreciation than he’d felt for almost anyone else today. “Forty minutes left,” Dori said softly. “Make the most of them.” He picked up his bag, and finally, there was just Jason, all alone.

Forty minutes. Not as much time as he liked to prepare before a fight, but he could do it.

He sat cross-legged on the floor and began to focus on his breathing, letting air circulate through his head and chest. Anxious thoughts pricked at him, but he let them pass, choosing not to fixate. Once his breathing was controlled, Jason used its regular rhythm to help him tap into the part of him that had been screaming silently for months now. The hard, hot, nugget of anger inside of him grew with every breath, fanning out to become a tingling energy that flowed like lightning down his limbs.

Every sense became attuned to the sounds around him, whispers of noise in the empty space. He could hear the rhythmic resonance of the water clock on the wall; he could count off every near-silent drip.

When he’d been in the military, Jason’s nervous system had been modified for combat. The mods had been high-grade—much better than what you could get commercially. Even now, years after he got out, his body remembered that ease of movement, the sharpness and speed.

With focus, Jason could bring his body back to that state naturally, fed not by surgical modifications but by the fire inside of him. It didn’t last for long, but, then, he didn’t expect this fight to take long. Four hours? Not likely.

Don’t be overconfident. He heard his father’s voice in his head, the memory of it as strong as ever. Be clever. Be patient. Good advice.

When the guard knocked and entered, Jason rose to his feet. The male seemed a little taken aback, as if not seeing what he had expected. Jason felt calm, energized, and ready. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Fourteen

IT WAS cool this deep underground. Very cool. Jason’s muscles tried to tense as he followed the guard, but he willed more heat into them, and they stayed loose and flexible, obedient to his mental orders.

Good. Perfect.

The guard opened the door at the end of the long hall and stood aside. The space beyond it looked almost completely dark, but after a moment, he could make out the mesh of the cage, faintly limned with phosphorescence. It looked about twice the size of a boxing ring and half again as tall as Jason. “Is Seronn already here?” he asked.

“I do not know,” the guard replied, his voice very heavily accented. He lightly shoved the small of Jason’s back, pushing him forward.

So he could be here, clinging like a spider to the ceiling, waiting for me to enter. Jason stepped just inside the cage, and he pressed his back to the door as soon as it closed, letting his senses have free rein, feeling through the darkness for his opponent.

The subdued sounds of breathing and shifting came from the invisible crowd. He could practically feel the intensity of their stares, but none of that was relevant. He was seeking out—

Jason barely realized he was under attack before Seronn was on him, his hands preceded by six-inch quills. They were so thin and whippy, Jason couldn’t tell where they ended, and as he dove into a forward roll, he felt one rake the length of one arm, just hard enough to scratch him through the fabric. As he came out of the roll, he drew his sword.

It felt so good to have the naked blade in his hand again.

There was a long moment of near-silence, but Jason could hear Seronn breathing now—a little harder than he should have been, considering. He was probably annoyed at having done so little damage. He wants to kill you, Jason reminded himself, annoyed that he’d neglected to draw his weapon the moment he entered the cage. He’s trying to kill you. Get your head right.

Slowly, Jason slid his feet backward, seeking out the cage wall behind him and the protection it would give him. Just before he got there, he heard pattering footfalls, followed by a harder thud. For a moment, there was no sound at all, and then Seronn’s heels drove into Jason’s shoulders. It was like getting hit with two steel rods, frighteningly fast and strong. The momentum of his leap knocked Jason first into the wall and then to the ground.

Jason hit the floor and rolled almost instantly, tucking the flat of the sword against his body. His breath left him in a harsh gasp as his ribs contracted painfully.

Seronn, now distinguishable as a pale shadow against the darker blur of the room, let go of the ceiling of the cage and followed him. Just as Jason began to get his feet under him, Seronn lunged forward and stabbed a quill into Jason’s thigh, making the muscle clench with pain. Jason went to one knee but swung his blade horizontally through the darkness in front of him, striking at his opponent. The tip of the blade sliced through fabric and flesh, and Seronn growled in response but kept coming until he ran full-on into Jason.

Jason hit the floor on his back. Seronn straddled his shoulders, and for a moment, it seemed impossible for Jason to move under the heavy weight. He got his feet under him and bucked his hips up, sending his opponent into an awkward forward sprawl. Jason used his legs to pull himself out from under Seronn, ignoring the opening for a groin shot in favor of slicing his opponent across the back of his left thigh.

This time, Seronn snarled more with anger than pain, but he couldn’t turn fast enough to pin Jason down again, and Jason had time to get his back to the nearest wall. He pulled on the quill in his leg. It wouldn’t budge, not even a little. Gritting his teeth, Jason snapped the excess length off and tried to ignore the way his thigh throbbed. He could handle that for a while, but he couldn’t handle many more of them.

Jason heard Seronn find his feet and launch himself again—less agilely than before, but still fast. Jason ducked to the side, lashing out in a diagonal cut from shoulder to hip as Seronn’s feet hit the side of the cage and scoring a light cut across his opponent’s back before he got out of range.

Seronn tried jumping twice more, but Jason knew that approach now, and each attempt ended futilely for the Perel. He moved in sideways, but the walls were flexible, and Jason could feel the vibrations of Seronn’s approach and hear the pad of his footsteps. When Seronn got close, Jason would dart across the cage, his sword whirling in a complex defensive pattern around his body that kept his opponent’s hands out of touching range. Then he would lean against the opposite wall again and wait. It was a dangerous stalemate.

Finally, Seronn changed his strategy, abandoning his more complex attacks for a straightforward blitz. Jason heard him coming and slowed him with a slash across the chest, but the Perel was tight against him a moment later. Blood warmed the thin fabric that separated their skin, and the wall of the cage bowed beneath his back with the force of Seronn’s drive.

Jason’s right hand, his dominant sword hand, was trapped against the wall. A soft, desperate cry whispered from behind him in the audience.

Harsh breaths bathed Jason’s face as Seronn growled. Jason fought to control his opponent’s hands by crossing his free arm in front of the trapped one, but Seronn managed to pull two more long, thick quills free. He jammed them up into Jason’s abdomen.

Fuck, it hurt. Jason could feel every inch of them scraping through his guts as they went in, but the quills were thin, and they didn’t hit anything immediately vital.

“Soft-bellied pup,” Seronn hissed. “I will gouge out your eyes and gift them to your widower.”

Jason pushed the agony away. He released his hold on Seronn’s arm, letting the Perel’s momentum bring him farther forward. His crushing body jarred the quills and Jason gasped in reaction to the pain, but his left hand was now free to grab up some ammunition of his own. The sharp edges cut his fingers, but he freed a few quills and stuck them into each side of Seronn’s neck and through the soft skin of his throat in rapid succession.

They were smaller quills, but they did the job. The Perel began coughing violently, and Jason was able to knock him back with an elbow to the side of his head. Seronn vanished into the darkness, clutching his throat.

Jason took a moment to assess his own injuries. The quills protruding from his belly quivered with every breath, and Jason could feel his lungs becoming heavy and thick, the pain swelling too quickly to ignore. Jason was very good at ignoring pain, but he was reaching his limit.

He had to finish this fast. Even if he didn’t manage to bring it off the way he wanted.

Jason cut the ends off the new quills with his sword and then raised his blade to a guard position. On the other side of the cage, Seronn’s breath rasped through his damaged throat. He was wary now, cautious. He could probably smell the blood from Jason’s gut and knew he could play for time. Jason would have to tempt him, and unlike Seronn, he didn’t have words that could coerce and fracture and wound.

He did, however, have other means of subterfuge. Jason let his breath quicken in his lungs. He stepped forward, a little awkwardly, and swung his sword in a tremendous overhead cut. It hit nothing but air, of course. He stepped and swung again, panting, and hit nothing. He stepped again, his blade raised overhead—

Seronn was there, sidestepping and moving in beneath the sword’s predicted arc. He snarled with victory as he stabbed another quill into Jason’s side. This one got lucky, and the sharp, shooting pain was almost enough to make Jason pass out. Gritting his teeth, he flipped the sword around in his hands so the blade pointed down and back instead of toward the ceiling. He turned to be sure of making contact and drove the weapon into Seronn’s belly hard enough that it went all the way through thick muscle and viscera and out the other side.

The fire inside of Jason flared with savage satisfaction as the will to fight abruptly fell away from Seronn and his bloody hands dropped to his sides. The breath went out of him, not with a gasp or a cry, but with a small, choked sound, as if he were simply empty. Jason’s sword was incredibly sharp. It would have been so easy to pull the blade out sideways, severing everything in its path. Instead, Jason drew the blade straight out. He pulled back and watched his opponent slump to the ground. The entire room held its breath, waiting for him to finish it.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Jason told Seronn, wincing with the pain that speaking caused. His mouth tasted like copper from the blood welling in his throat, and his lungs…. He was dripping with liquid—how much sweat and how much blood, he couldn’t tell, but the ratio was fast turning in favor of blood. “I don’t have to. Dueling to the death might be your tradition, but it isn’t mine. Now you owe me your life.”

He looked out at the blackness beyond the cage. “The House of Tlann will pay for the rashness of its son by abandoning its spurious claim on my consort and committing itself to following the ideals espoused by the Houses of Grenn and Howards: ideals of integration and exploration, not close-minded xenophobia.” Was his vision going dark? It was impossible to tell. “Seronn’s debt to me will be paid with a week in a penitent’s cage.” He heard some gasps at that, but it was better than either Seronn or his House had any right to expect.

The satisfaction of winning things his way was enough to bank the fire that had driven Jason through this confrontation, but it also diminished his energy even further. He had to get out of here now. He turned and reached out. His hand found the nearest wall, and he trailed it around the cage to the door, concealing his pained limp as best he could. A moment later, it opened, and then Dori was there, pulling him out of the arena.

Once the door closed, Jason’s knees buckled, and he swayed forward into Dori’s arms.

“Easy there, son, easy there,” Dori murmured, his lips set in a thin, unhappy line as he inserted himself under Jason’s shoulder. He pressed an autosyringe to Jason’s neck, and almost instantly, Jason felt the pain melt away. “Yes, the happy drugs are lovely, aren’t they? But these damn things are still doing damage to your body, and we have to get them out as soon as possible. You have to walk a little farther, son.”

Jason nodded silently and moved forward, leaning on Dori. Before they reached the end of the hall, Perels wearing the insignia of the House of Tlann rushed forward, one of them with the white edging of a healer on his sleeves. Jason straightened a little as they went by.

“Good lad,” Dori praised him. “We’re almost there. Just a little farther….” At the end of the hall, Penelope appeared with a gurney hovering in front of her. Dori helped Jason onto it, careful not to jar the jagged ends of the quills still sticking out of him.

“Relax now, Jason,” Dori said. He gave Jason another injection, one that suddenly made his muscles go as lax as liquid. “You’ve done your job. Relax now. Go to sleep.”

And Jason, feeling calmer and more content than he had for weeks, did.

Chapter Fifteen

IN HIS interpersonal naiveté, Jason had assumed that defeating Seronn in a duel would make so many of the personal and political troubles bothering him and his various family members week after week go away. If a duel to the—well, not quite the death, but nearly so—couldn’t translate into a stronger position at the bargaining table, then what could?

In some ways, he was right. Things definitely improved within the House of Grenn. Jason was in bed for three days, and during that time every pup, male, and matriarch in the house came to visit him and congratulate him. Corran, who had seen the whole thing, told tales about it that had people believing that Jason had done it all one-handed, that he had been the one to do the leaping attacks, that he had barely been nicked by Seronn instead of having a lung, his diaphragm, and his intestines punctured so badly that Dori almost recommended a Regen tank.

The status quo had changed for Jason’s mothers as well. Jason had officially fought as the duelist for the House of Howards, stepping in on behalf of the House of Grenn. The legality of a human House was debated hotly in the Council for days, and for a time, that put the legitimacy of his win in question. But eventually it was decided that yes, if the matriarchs had deemed him able to fight in the first place, then his victory had to stand. Once a legal decision had been made that included the human House of Howards as truly official among the Perel Houses, Giselle was more than ready to argue for more trading opportunities and tariff concessions, and Grenn was backing her up.

Tlann, still reeling with the fact that her daughter’s consort had been spared, felt obliged to show her support, and that threw the conservatives into an absolute frenzy of being difficult in every way they could. The moderates still held control, with a margin of four to three, but where before there had been issues on which the two sides could compromise, now there was chaos, and the undecided status of the semilegal House of Howards complicated that equation immeasurably.

Things were still difficult on a personal level as well. The twins had returned to the House of Lronn as soon as Jason was mobile again, and he saw them very rarely. He went on with his classes, and while there was an overtone of genuine respect there that had been missing before, there was also an undercurrent of fear.

Perels from conservative Solitarian Houses that he met in the city were much more open in disdaining him, now that their matriarchs were so severely against all the changes that had accompanied his arrival on their planet. Of course, his supporters were correspondingly more vocal, and fights between rival groups happened frequently. None of them were formal enough to be called duels, but the rising level of conflict was disheartening for Jason, and a bad sign for the matriarchs, who subsequently had to exert more control over their consorts and sons to keep them in line.

And then there was Ferran. Jason really didn’t know what to do about his husband. Ferran had been with him every second as he was recovering from his wounds, but he had barely spoken at all. Jason, never a great conversationalist, was left with a silence that he couldn’t seem to break. It reminded him of how things had gotten with Blake toward the end, how they’d inhabited the same space but had somehow managed to be far apart at the same time. The thought of what had happened with Blake repeating itself now scared Jason, and he tried to talk to Ferran about it, to draw him out.

Ferran remained impenetrably polite. He spoke pleasantly, he responded to questions in the most impersonal way possible, and he replied immediately whenever Jason asked him anything—except when it concerned how he was feeling. Then he would answer, “I am fine,” leaving Jason more frustrated than before.

The only thing that hadn’t really changed was how Ferran related to him in bed. Jason had had to initiate any intimate contact between them since the duel, but once he started, Ferran was on him like a second layer of skin, as if he couldn’t get close enough. He nipped and licked and kissed and sucked every inch of Jason’s body, and he always wanted to taste him—to the point where Jason had to insist that Ferran let him return the favor and give him a blowjob. Ferran would lie there and take it and come, but he didn’t seem to get nearly as much pleasure out of his own orgasms as he got out of Jason’s.

When they made love, it was always Jason on top, even when he said he wanted it the other way around, and Ferran never turned his back. He was sensitive of Jason touching his quills now and would flinch or shy away whenever his husband managed to stroke the small of his back or press a kiss to the base of his neck. So they faced each other when they had sex, with Ferran’s legs and arms wrapped around Jason, his eyes wide and begging even as he arched his back and came.

When it was over Ferran would say, “I love you,” and Jason knew that his husband meant it with all his heart. He knew the love was there, which was part of why the loss of their easy friendship hurt so acutely.

It hurt enough that a month after the duel, even though Jason had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t bring up personal issues with Grenn, anything was better than continuing the status quo. She looked tired, preoccupied by the many battles she herself was fighting, but she set her tea down and gave Jason her full attention from the moment he walked in the door for their morning meeting.

“Tell me,” she said gently, and before he knew it, Jason was spilling the story to her, describing the seemingly impenetrable tension between himself and his husband.

“I don’t know what to do about it,” he said finally, rubbing anxious circles over the curve of his knee with one hand. “He won’t tell me what’s wrong, or if anything’s wrong. I just don’t know how to deal with it.”

“You must be patient,” Grenn advised. “Ferran is feeling very many things right now, and it will take him some time to sort them out. You two have not yet reached a point in your relationship where you can be honest with each other about everything. He simply has to decide how to tell you what he feels. And he will. Eventually.”

Jason frowned. “Why can’t he tell me how he feels now? I won’t judge him for it.”

“You two are still very new to each other—practically strangers! You are still trying to impress each other. Do you share all your insecurities with him?” Grenn asked astutely. “Have you told him of all your troubles in Berenze? How certain tea shops are closed to you? How you are publically reviled by some?”

“No, but….” Jason didn’t really see the parallel. “I’m just trying to protect him. Those things don’t really bother me, but I know they’d upset him.”

“Thus you do not share with him. And he knows it. Ferran feels what is in you as deeply as I do at this point—more, even. He knows when you are holding back, but he doesn’t know why. Perhaps he feels he is saving you grief by holding back in turn with you.” She smiled a small, knowing smile. “He knows that you love him, and you know that he loves you. The rest will come in time. Patience, Jason. Patience is key.”

She stood up. “I am going to your mother Howards’s home today, to discuss the latest political situation. We are trying to persuade the rest of the Council to attend as well, in addition to the Dorn and the Mazi. You may be called upon to join us there and speak.”

“Oh. At what time?” The latest political “situation” had a lot to do with the seeming monopoly that the House of Grenn had on alien interactions, and Jason knew that Giselle wanted to do more outreach to the other houses.

“Well after you are done with your lessons. If you would stay close to your den today, rather than going into Berenze, it would be easier for me to arrange for a shuttle to bring you out. Is this acceptable?” These days, Grenn was always careful to say Is this, rather than This is, and Jason appreciated the effort, even though it didn’t really negate the fact that she was giving him an order.

“Yes,” he said. “Are you thinking of bringing Ferran as well?”

“He has already been asked to attend. It will be a good opportunity for him to interact with other aliens, something he needs more practice with before he can be Perelan’s ambassador.” She wiggled a hand dismissively at him. “Now go on. Go and learn.”

Go and learn. Yes, Jason had been learning a hell of a lot, but he still didn’t have the answers he was looking for. Patient. He was already patient. Patience didn’t seem to be getting him anywhere with his husband except more estranged.

Jason met with Matriarch Jlinn for language class, and after sitting down and going through the greetings, he asked in Perel, “What is the word for ‘patient’?”

“We are discussing the names of animals and plants today, not adjectives,” she reprimanded him.

“I want to know.”

“We will get there,” she assured him, “but you must follow the lesson plan. It will facilitate your retention of our language. Now, repeat after me.” Jlinn went on to hammer home for Jason exactly how patient he already was, coughing and growling through the names of animals he had never seen and probably never would.

He met Ferran for lunch in their den. It was a quiet affair, both of them eating and then curling up on the couch together for a while. “How late do you think you’ll be tonight?” Jason asked finally, one hand idly stroking down Ferran’s arm. The skin pebbled with tiny goose bumps under his fingertips.

“I do not know how long my mother intends for the conference to go on. It may last one hour, it may last all day.”

“When you get back… we should talk.”

Ferran stiffened. “Talk about what?”

Jason sighed. “About this.” He waved a hand between the two of them. “About us.” Fuck patience, he was done with the awkward silences and the walking on eggshells. “And that’s not a bad thing,” Jason hastened to assure his husband. “It doesn’t mean that we’re going to fight or argue, it just means that I want to talk to you. I want to… I want….” God, he was so bad at these conversations. “I want to be honest with you. I want you to feel like you can trust me.”

“I already do!” Ferran protested.

“Then I want you to feel like you can trust yourself with me. All of it, every part of you, not just the parts you think I want to see.” He felt Ferran start to move away and held him tighter. “And I’ll do the same. I know I haven’t been a perfect husband, and I damaged your faith in me when I took that duel, but I want to try to fix that.”

Ferran kept pulling, and Jason let him go, his well of words suddenly run dry. “I have to go,” Ferran said, and he stood up and slipped his shoes on quickly.

“Ferran….”

“I will see you later tonight, Jason.”

“And we’ll talk?” Jason pressed.

Ferran swallowed hard. “Yes. We will talk.”

“That’s all I want.” Actually it was nowhere close to all that Jason wanted, but he knew that it would have to do for now. Just before Ferran went out the door, Jason said softly, “I love you.”

He thought that Ferran heard him, but after the barest pause, Ferran left and shut the door behind him without a word.

“Shit.”

Jason was in no mood to stay in his silent, lonely den for the rest of the day, but he knew he had to be close so that a messenger could find him if Grenn wanted him at the conference. After a few hours of uneasy idleness and aborted attempts to relax with kata, he put on a slicker and headed up to the garden on the top of Grenn’s house.

It was raining hard enough to make his eyes sting and his skin burn a little, but Jason wanted to burn a little right now. His eyes really stung, though. Clearly, the contacts had reached about the end of their lifespan; he’d have to ask Dori about getting replacements.

Jason made his way into the garden and stood next to a boulder—one of the only actual stones he’d seen in the entire city. The roughness of it was oddly soothing, a kind of reminder that other things existed beyond the soft, spongy moss that seemed to cover everything in Berenze. He ran his fingers over the surface, watching orange and pink flowers bend under the force of the rain with his peripheral vision.

After maybe half an hour, he saw someone coming his way, and he turned to face the intruder entering the garden through the public gate. The Perel’s slicker was pulled forward to cover his face, but Jason knew who it was anyway. “Seronn.” It was the first time Jason had seen him since the duel. The House of Tlann had refused human medical help, and so the traditional doctors had taken on the task of rehabilitating the duelist. Jason had torn through a lot of muscle and perforated Seronn’s intestines in several places, and it had taken multiple surgeries to fix the damage.

As soon as he was upright again, Seronn had gone into the penitent’s cage in a public square one block from the Council House, and his weeklong tenure there had just ended. Jason wondered what he was doing here now, and vaguely wished he had thought to bring a knife with him. Grenn had assured him that Seronn wouldn’t seek revenge, but Jason wasn’t so sure. He had been expecting some sort of confrontation, however, and now was as good a time as any.

“Jason Kim Howards Grenn.” Seronn pushed back his hood just a little bit. His handsome face was expressionless, but his eyes were wide, and his voice was anxious. “You should go below.” He said it so quietly that Jason almost couldn’t hear him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Do not ask, just go!” Seronn hissed impatiently. “I must be here now, but so will they, and they will take you if you do not go below!”

“Who will take me?” Jason asked, but even as he said it, he heard the quick whistle of an air gun and felt the subsequent sting of a needle penetrating his upper back. Jason tore at the penetration site even as he turned toward the door that would take him back inside the House of Grenn, but his vision went foggy, and he fell to one knee almost immediately.

Seronn was next to him in an instant, but he didn’t help him up. Instead he took Jason’s communicator off his belt.

“They would only destroy it,” he muttered gruffly. “It is too late for me to help you here, but I will use this to tell Ferran what has happened, if he lives.”

“If he lives….” Jason wanted to ask more, to say more, or maybe to scream, but before he could take another breath, his face and throat went numb. He couldn’t speak—he could barely draw breath—and then the numbness spread to his mind, and he fell forward onto the slick, rainy ground and blacked out.

Chapter Sixteen

CONSCIOUSNESS CAME back slowly, like waking up from a Regen coma but without the accompanying sense of renewal. Instead, his shoulders were clenched up around his ears, he had a headache that made his eyes feel like they were going to melt out of his face, and he wasn’t breathing very well. He coughed, trying to clear his throat, but the thick layer of grit and slime that had taken up residence in his lungs didn’t want to be moved.

A foot nudged his shoulder, and the surface he was on swayed slightly. There was a low, hoarse growl, and the sway was waveringly corrected.

Jason tried to open his eyes, but the brightness of the lights—floor lights; he could tell he was lying on a floor—made keeping them open inadvisable. He assessed his state. His arms and legs weren’t bound, but he couldn’t really move them either. They felt heavy and dull, barely twitching against the floor when he strained to shift them. The pain in his head was slowly clearing, but what he made out through it wasn’t at all comforting.

He was on a shuttle, he knew that much. He was with someone who didn’t care about his physical state. Whoever he was with also seemed pretty unfamiliar with the technology he was using, if the hiccups Jason could hear coming from the engine were anything to go by.

When Jason opened his eyes the second time, he was able to keep them open, just as slits. He lay in a heap just behind the copilot’s chair, so his upper body was in the line of sight of whoever was abusing this shuttle. The shuttle itself was a small industrial model stripped mostly bare, with no extra seats and no flooring other than the metal mesh digging lines into the side of his face. Dangling from the walls were cables and ropes that could be used to tie something down more securely, but apparently, Jason hadn’t been deemed a very high risk, because none of them had been used on him. The entry ramp that made up the back wall of the shuttle was closed, but the light that would indicate it had been locked wasn’t on. That could mean the light had burnt out, or it could mean they simply hadn’t bothered to lock it.

Strange work, very shoddy work for a kidnapping, but Jason delayed thinking about that in favor of figuring out what the hell was going on.

He looked over at the Perel piloting the shuttle. It was a male—an older male, given the roughness of his quills and the lines on his face. He wore a plain gray jumpsuit with no insignia, but it didn’t take long for Jason to recognize who it was and what House he belonged to. He had only seen him once before, but that had been a day of firsts, and Jason remembered them all.

“I see you wake,” the Perel said. “I see you thinking, intruder. Invader. Outsider.” The Perel growled derisively. “I knew from the moment I saw you. I should have drugged your tea and taken care of you while you were still weak.” He reached out and kicked Jason’s shoulder with his foot this time, hard enough to slide his head back across the floor.

“Now you make trouble for my matriarch, trouble for all our people. But soon you will not. The Shamed will do for you, like they will do for the ones you have corrupted, your so-called mothers. They will make sure you are never seen again.” The shuttle wobbled a little, and the Perel muttered, “If I can get this thing there in one piece.”

“Srell,” Jason muttered hoarsely, his throat uncomfortably dry. At least he could speak.

“You are not worthy to even speak the name of my House,” the Perel hissed, and he kicked Jason again, hard enough that his body was driven farther back into the cargo bay of the shuttle. “You are the last leaf to fall, the last bit of rot to be cut away before new, strong leadership can rise in Berenze. My matriarch will have all of your filthy kind sent away.”

The bit about his mothers was bothering Jason. Had Grenn and Giselle been kidnapped too? Had they been taken some other way? Where the hell were they, and more importantly, was Ferran with them? Jason remembered, with chilling clarity, the uncertainty in Seronn’s eyes as he said that he would tell Ferran, if he lived.

If he lived. Fucking hell, Ferran had to live, there was no other option. And Jason had to get back to him as soon as possible.

Managing that would be tricky. He could flex his ankles now, move his aching head from side to side, and clench his fingers a bit, but there was no way Jason would be springing up, overpowering his kidnapper, and turning the shuttle around any time soon.

From the very little he knew of the Shamed—those Perels who had broken the laws of Berenze so badly that they couldn’t be readmitted to the city—their camp was out in the middle of the jungle, far enough from Berenze to be safe, but close enough that they could organize raids on the outskirts. Perhaps an hour or two’s worth of flying in a low-atmosphere shuttle, which this definitely was. Jason didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but he did know that if he were left with a group of lawless, wild Perel in the middle of the wilderness, he would never be seen again.

So, the best option—a hostile takeover of the shuttle—was out of the question. The next-best option was pretty crappy, all things considered, but Jason would do his best to take it. He had to find a way to crash the craft.

The Srell piloting this thing clearly didn’t have a good idea what he was doing. Keeping the shuttle from hitting the treetops took all his concentration, and he certainly didn’t seem to be doing any navigating, which meant that the route had probably been programmed in by someone else. So a little screwing with some of the shuttle’s systems, and the pilot would probably lose control of it.

After that… well, after that, the plan got a little bit fuzzy, but there wasn’t time for a lot of planning under the circumstances. Jason would have to take what he could get. If he could get it.

So… what could a practically paralyzed man do, sabotage-wise, to this shuttle? Interfering with the control systems was out; there was no way Jason could reach them. In fact, touching anything within the Perel’s range of vision was completely out. He’d just get kicked in the head again for his trouble. So what was there to screw with back here? The ventilation system’s main controls were back here, but they were high up on the wall, so that was out. The cooling system’s big, functional units were here as well, but even if Jason managed to get both of them completely open, it wouldn’t have much of an effect when they were flying so slowly.

That left opening the shuttle’s back hatch as the best of the bad deals. There was an emergency switch halfway up the wall at the back, with two small manual turn-locks on either side of it. Jason figured that with some luck, he could about handle that. Then he’d just have to think of a way to make sure he wasn’t sucked out the back of the shuttle.

Getting there wasn’t too difficult. Jason could sort of roll his body, and the grinding from the engine disguised the little noises he made as he flopped toward the back of the shuttle. It took some time, but finally, his torso was beside the rear wall. Getting into a sitting position was difficult, with his limbs still more than half numb. Slowly, he figured out that he could hitch his knees under him enough to use his head to inch up the wall. It hurt to put that kind of strain on his neck, but there was nothing else he could do.

Eventually, Jason’s eyes were level with the emergency switch. Excellent. Now he needed to turn the locks. He looked pleadingly down at his hands, but they were doing all they could to hold him up, his fingers digging in to the metal grate beneath his hips.

So, then. He had a mouth.

It wasn’t as hard as Jason had thought it would be. Hours spent kissing Ferran had apparently done wonders for his lingual flexibility. After he turned the second lock, an alarm started to blare up in the cockpit. He desperately hoped the pilot had no idea what it meant. He was close, so close. One hard push and the emergency switch would open, and so would the shuttle’s hatch.

Jason tangled his legs in some of the loose cords hanging down the walls. He gripped the floor tightly with his hands and wedged himself as far back into the corner of the shuttle as he could. The Srell realized what was going on, letting go of the controls and turning wide, shocked eyes on Jason. “What is this? What have you done?”

Confusion was a fitting epitaph for his captor. Leaning over, Jason jabbed the switch with the point of his chin.

As the door rose, wet air, heat, and rain poured in, and the shuttle lurched into a dive almost instantly. The Srell cried out and turned back to his controls, but it was too late for a poor pilot to recover from the abrupt change in course, and a moment later, the belly of the shuttle hit the first treetop with a hard, metallic shudder. The little ship bounced and lurched and finally tumbled, end over end, into the thick canopy of the jungle of Perelan.

WHEN JASON woke up hours later, everything he saw was blurry, and his ears were ringing. His body was crushed to the back of the pilot’s seat, and he could tell that at least a couple of his ribs were broken after the shuttle’s amazing, suicidal swan dive. On the other hand, he could feel his ribs again. And his arms, his legs, and, unfortunately, his head, which was still pounding with the headache that wouldn’t quit.

He tried to shift, groaned softly at the pain that shot through his spine, and lay there gathering his strength, before trying again. Pain shot like lightning down his back, but Jason could make himself move. When he mustered the energy to turn, he crawled slowly to the cockpit and looked at the remains of the Perel who had taken it upon himself to be Jason’s chauffeur to the Shamed.

The older male of the House of Srell was undeniably dead, and his blood and brains, which were smeared all over the shuttle’s controls, had already begun to smell of rot in this heat. Jason couldn’t bring himself to feel bad.

Groaning, Jason pushed himself into a kneeling position and took a moment to quell the nausea that came with the change. Concussion, he thought to himself. Definitely a concussion. Once the urge to vomit passed, he looked around at the contents of the shuttle and considered his current options. Options, right. Those ranged from bad to awful to fucking terrible every time Jason had to work out a new plan, but it was that or sit here bleeding and feeling sorry for himself.

In some ways, it would make more sense to stay with the wreck. However, if anyone was looking for it, they were probably part of the conspiracy to overthrow Grenn, which meant that they were nothing like friendly. Plus, the shattered shuttle wouldn’t offer that much more protection against the elements than the open jungle right now.

So, Jason had to leave. First, he had to figure out whether or not he actually could leave. Apart from the ribs, his back, and the continual throbbing of his head, Jason actually felt like he could get around if he had to. Since he had to. His feet were still clad in the flat-soled slippers that passed for shoes here, but his legs seemed to work. He was incredibly lucky to come out of the crash this whole, and he partially attributed it to the fact that his body had been totally relaxed when they made impact, not clenched and tensing against the fall. Yes, he had broken ribs, but he didn’t have a broken neck.

What could he take with him? Jason very slowly turned his aching head in a semicircle, looking at what he had. Apart from the webbing on the walls and the body broken like a cheap plastic doll in the front, there didn’t seem to be anything here: not an emergency kit, not even a bottle of water. He swore loudly in his mind, cursing the people who had taken him for not being more prepared, even though he recognized that their folly was his means of escape.

Fine. He would just have to make do with what he could find outside.

The only thing he took with him was the navigation system. It was a detachable unit, about the size of the palm of his hand, and apart from the leads still sparking a little with electricity, it didn’t look too bad. Jason would need that when he was found. If his supposition that they’d been on a preprogrammed route was right, then this little box would tell whoever found him how to find the Shamed. And maybe Ferran, and Jason’s adopted mothers as well, if all of them were still alive.

Which they were. Of course they were. Jason would know, somehow, if Ferran were dead. It was possible he hadn’t even been involved in whatever had happened at Giselle’s home. Jason didn’t have enough information to know one way or the other, and at the moment, he’d much rather deal with the uncertainty than give in to the hysterical fear lurking with the rest of the firestorm of his emotions, barely held at bay by Jason’s logical mind.

Moving his shoulder enough to get one hand behind his back was harder than Jason thought it should be, but he managed. He crawled forward to the edge of the gaping hatch and then out of the shuttle.

Now he just had to pick a direction. Jason felt like kicking himself for not getting instruction on wilderness survival while he was being educated in everything else about Perelan, but he shelved the self-recrimination with his other useless emotions and looked up at the trees. A clear path of destruction where the shuttle had come sloping drunkenly out of the sky stretched from the crash site toward Berenze. Once he got back, he could figure out how to go after the Shamed. He resolutely closed himself off to all the potentially bad scenarios that wanted to beat his mind into submission and started to walk.

His throat and eyes were burning after half an hour. It was more than the burn Jason was used to, and after a moment of wracking his battered brain, he remembered why. It had been over a day since he’d last taken the prophylactic against the acidic effects of the environment, and he knew his contacts were practically useless now. He didn’t have any tablets or sprays on him, and there was no way he was going to be finding any. Jason swallowed experimentally, forcing the dregs of his saliva over his parched throat. He would have to drink as soon as he could find water, and that was going to hurt too.

Jason mentally shrugged to himself. He could handle the pain if he had to. Since he had to. He put one foot in front of the other and walked slowly on, slipping every now and then on the moss-covered forest floor. No light filtered through the trees, not even the dim glow that passed for daylight here on Perelan, and the darkness took on a new sort of life here beneath the jungle canopy. The effect was a little like what the Perel had tried to recreate in Berenze, but their imitation was nowhere near as vivid as the original.

Everything glowed with varying levels of brightness, color, and crispness of outline. Jason could see the light move, twisting down stalks and dripping off leaves, all of the water infused with fungal spores. He had no idea what the effect of drinking that would be, but it looked like he was going to find out. Jason tipped the edge of a broad, curved leaf into his mouth and swallowed what ran off, ignoring the slimy texture as it slipped down his throat. God, it hurt going down. That was enough for now, that had to be enough. He smacked his chapped lips together distastefully and wondered whether his mouth was glowing now too.

Jason kept going, forcing his disobedient feet to keep moving and his thick, laboring lungs to keep breathing. The pain in his ribs stabbed him with every inhalation, but after a while the sensation became almost nice, a safe and reliable way to distract himself from the reality of his situation. If he let the few free tendrils of consciousness that weren’t motivating him to move start thinking about all the unknowns, well… something undignified would occur. Like him falling down, beating his fists on the ground, and screaming like a child.

The image brought a brief smile to Jason’s face. Apparently some urges you never outgrew.

Chapter Seventeen

THE FIRST two days were okay. Not wonderful, but Jason managed them all right. He moved onward, climbing painfully over enormous tree roots, slipping across spongy, damp moss, and simply living in the damp fog that was the unadulterated environment of Perelan. He drank as little as he could get away with, because every sip was like liquid fire, and he slept under broad leaves and shrank back into the tightest spaces he could find whenever he heard something else moving in the jungle. Jason didn’t know all the kinds of animals this place housed or how many of them were dangerous, and now wasn’t the time to play zoologist.

Sometimes it was hard for him to tell whether he was awake or dreaming, because no matter what, he felt threatened, menaced on all sides by things that were just outside of his range of vision. As soon as Jason’s eyes closed, the nightmares began—many of them centered around Ferran, and all of them leaving him gasping with pain and fear by the time they ran their course.

He was hungry, extremely hungry, but he didn’t trust himself to keep anything down, so he didn’t eat.

He had to be making progress, getting closer to Berenze. Two days on foot versus a few hours in a shuttle had to equate before too long, didn’t they? The storm of his emotions swung, punch-drunk, at his lips. It shrieked for him to cry out with it, but Jason still resisted. It was fine. He was fine. He would make it.

On the morning of the third day, Jason couldn’t open his eyes. They were crusted together with thick, sticky secretions, and once he did get them open, the lids scraping across his acid-suffused contacts like steel wool, he regretted it almost instantly. Something new and warm and wet collected in the corners, and after swiping at it with his hands and looking close, he could see that it was blood.

There was blood in his spittle when he tried to clear his throat—more like hacking up a lung than a simple cough. Jason had seen the effects of unprotected mining on workers who would eventually receive Regen treatment, and the clots of sticky blood pooling on the ground once he was done coughing reminded him of it. He saw blood in his urine as well, although at that point, Jason couldn’t be sure he wasn’t imagining things.

Everything felt raw and hideous today, and he didn’t know if he could handle the pain. The prophylactic was definitely out of his system, and this planet was going to dissolve him where he stood if he didn’t get help soon.

There was no help, though. There was nothing, just heat and wet, the shrill cry of hunting birds in the night, the interminable patter of rain, and the squishing sound of Jason’s own two feet against the ground as he moved doggedly forward. He had picked a direction, and even if he’d gotten turned around somehow—which, given the poor state of his vision, was definitely possible—he had to keep going. There wasn’t any other logical choice at this point.

Indifferent insects ran over Jason’s slow feet as he moved, only bothering to stop when he left them a bloody offering—when the congestion in his chest was just too much and he had to cough and cough and cough to bring it up. The only moving things Jason had really seen in this jungle were insects, which was comforting in an abstract kind of way. Insects, he could deal with. Much bigger than that and he’d be out of his league.

He walked on, breathing until he choked, letting the thinnest slits of eye possible peek out from under their lids to keep the burning down, and cradling his aching chest with his arms. Moving, bit by bit. It was bearable. It was an accomplishment. It was what he had to do.

By night, the rainfall was heavy, and Jason knew he had to stop. He also knew that if he stopped now, the odds of getting started again lessened with every hour. Three days was a long time without food. A long time to be broken inside. He was so tired and, he admitted to himself, so scared. He was afraid his body was going to give out, afraid his mind would finally snap, afraid he was lost.

Afraid for his husband. Jason leaned hard against the base of a tremendous tree trunk, his battered hands clinging to the bark for support as his remaining strength just went out of him. God, he was so worried about Ferran it made him breathless, leaving white spots of panic floating across his vision whenever the thought fluttered at the edges of his mind. For once, he was so desperate that he actually wished for a deity to pray to—for the word God to mean something to him beyond its immortal status as the catchall epithet of so many human languages.

The back of his hand tickled suddenly, and Jason jerked himself away from the tree and forced his eyes open to look at what was investigating him. He expected a bark beetle—he had seen hundreds of small brown ones during his long march. What he hadn’t expected was a brilliant blue beetle larger than his head, using its mandibles to scrape the tree’s spongy, glowing bark into its mouth.

“Oh,” Jason whispered—the first time he’d actually spoken in days. He didn’t recognize that raw sound as his voice, but it didn’t matter. This beetle was one of the ones he’d seen at the factory, the specially modified ones. That meant…. That meant he had to be close. Didn’t it? What was the effective range of these beetles? Jason didn’t know, but this one didn’t look to be a fast mover by any means, and it had to go out and come back within the space of one night. Jason was pretty sure he could still keep pace with a beetle.

The word providence floated across his mind, and Jason was seized by the hysterical urge to start laughing, but he restrained himself. Instead, he waited patiently for the beetle to finish collecting bark and fungus—perhaps a half an hour—and then watched it begin to bumble away. He staggered after it, opening first one eye and then the other, trading off the painful blur that remained of his vision.

The beetle was soon joined by others—first more blue ones and then a smattering of red and turquoise—and Jason wanted to weep with relief. It wasn’t a fluke; he really was close. He would be home in his den and back with Ferran soon, he knew it, he had to be….

The beetles walked on, and Jason walked among them, a paper tiger in their midst. He stopped feeling the pain in his lungs, his throat, his eyes, and his damn ribs; all he could think about was how near he was to success. How glad he was to be alive.

The ground suddenly went from soft to crunchy beneath his feet. Sharp edges cut into the soles of his shoes and Jason stumbled and then fell to one knee. His hands hit the ground and landed on something smooth but piecemeal, like broken pieces of pottery or a shattered shell. Shell….

He tried to move, but not fast enough. He heard a sound like a flag unfurling in a strong breeze followed by a snap, and a second later, Jason was in the air, rising slowly as he writhed against the sharp, dagger-like petals of a scissor mouth. The plant had a hold on his lower back and hips, and the pressure it exerted was immense. Pointed petals sliced through his skin, and all he could do was scream, even though his throat was already killing him.

He rose jerkily, the plant straining to handle his weight. The ground beneath him vanished in the haze of his tears, but gradually, he stopped rising. The scissor mouth wrestled with him, turning him so he was almost in an upright position; but in the end, gravity won, and the plant’s jaws suddenly released.

Jason hit the pile of beetle remains. His legs went out from under him, and from the sound of it, one of them must have broken upon impact. But that no longer mattered. He was perforated—far more so than during his duel. He was bleeding out from dozens of wounds. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, and now he was going to die, so close to making it back. After all he’d fought through, it seemed inconceivable.

He had expected his mind to go dark, but instead, everything went white. His hearing was fuzzy… everything was fuzzy. But it was a warm feeling, and it clung to him, almost cradling him. He let himself go into that sweet comfort, obscurely glad that at the end, his subconscious had taken pity on him and given him a final moment of tranquility.

At last, the world faded to a welcome black.

JASON WOKE up. One second, there was nothing, no dreams or slow dawning of comprehension. The next, he was conscious of breathing again.

At first, he didn’t understand what was happening to him. Waking up—that wasn’t something he could do. It wasn’t something he should be able to do, not after he was already dead. There was just the final sleep, followed by nothingness, not wakefulness. Yet here he was, opening his eyes, and there was a ceiling above him. It was mottled and gray, and he felt dry and clean and whole. Healthy. He inhaled deeply, experimentally. No pain. His eyelids rose and fell smoothly, with nothing blocking their path.

Jason lifted one tingling hand and ran it down his chest. No broken ribs, no puncture wounds, no bruises, no contusions… nothing but smooth skin beneath a paper-thin robe. He tried to move his other hand, but found that he couldn’t. Turning his head and marveling at how easy it was, he saw Ferran lying next to him. Such a surge of joy went through him that his breath caught in his throat.

Ferran looked thin and utterly exhausted, but his quills were lax with contentment. He was sleeping soundly, with none of the tossing and murmuring that Jason had come to expect lately. His cheek was pressed to the point of Jason’s shoulder, and his arms were wrapped around one of Jason’s, but those were the only places the two of them touched.

It wasn’t enough. It was probably selfish, but Jason needed Ferran awake right now more than his husband needed to sleep.

Jason stretched out his good hand and scritched it slowly into the soft quills at the edge of Ferran’s temple. Ferran purred and moved unconsciously into the caress, still asleep. Jason stroked and stroked, loving the fact that he could do that right now, that Ferran wasn’t pulling away. He was warm, and Jason could feel the blood thrumming through the skin beneath his fingers and see it pulse in the pale violet veins barely visible in Ferran’s eyelids.

Moved by a sudden, consuming tenderness Jason had never quite experienced before, he rolled onto his side, cupped Ferran’s face, and pressed a gentle kiss to each of his eyelids. Jason felt it when Ferran woke up trembling, and as soon as he pulled back, his husband clasped him in a crushing embrace, pressing so hard Jason wound up flat on his back again. His mouth was fused to Ferran’s, he was breathing in the scent of him, and it felt so incredibly good that Jason almost passed out.

“Jasssoonnnn….” Ferran hissed his name against Jason’s mouth and his ear, hot and sweet and possessive. He kissed every inch of Jason’s face and stroked those places where Jason remembered being injured the worst. Ferran’s hands lingered on his chest before worming their way beneath Jason’s back, and Ferran never stopped kissing him.

“Ferran,” Jason breathed as soon as he was able. He cupped his lover’s face and held him a few inches away to look at him for a moment, taking in the reality that was his husband. “How did you find me?”

“I felt you,” Ferran said, and his tone was heavy with meaning that Jason didn’t immediately understand. “I felt you the whole time. I tried to find you, but you were too far away at first, and I couldn’t pinpoint you. Then, when you did get close enough for me to locate you, we went to get you, but by the time I got to you, you were almost gone.” His hands rubbed over Jason’s vanished wounds again, residually fretting over his injuries.

“I didn’t know you could feel me like that,” Jason said.

“I was not sure that I could either. It is one of the secrets of the rhezan, a side effect of the bonding that occurs between spouses. I was not sure we had managed to bond in that way, although I wanted it more than anything.” He paused for a moment, uncertain. “I thought that I might have felt something of the bond, during your duel. It was not… at all pleasant. Afterward, I convinced myself that I hadn’t, and I pulled away from you to try to ensure that I wouldn’t. Once you were in danger again, though, there was no doubt. I felt you.”

Ferran sighed deeply, his eyes flickering over every angle of Jason’s face, devouring him. “Everything here was chaos. I had to take temporary control of the House of Grenn. It was the first time the Council let a son handle such a responsibility—but, then, the Council itself is broken right now.”

“You know about Srell, then?” Jason was relieved when Ferran nodded. It was one less thing for him to have to explain.

“She and her allies made arrangements with the Shamed,” Ferran said somberly. “She wished to make it seem as though the Shamed had invaded the House of Howards and killed my mother and the ambassador. The Shamed would have been given food and medical assistance in return, quietly. I was late getting to your mother’s house, and by the time I arrived….” Ferran swallowed hard. “The attack had already occurred.”

“Are they dead?”

Jason was immeasurably relieved when Ferran shook his head no. “The Shamed took them back to their camp instead, to display them and hurt them and disgrace them. Srell loaned them shuttles to take them there. You were stolen in a shuttle of hers too.”

“I’m surprised they wanted to transport me all the way out there,” Jason confessed. “It would have been a lot easier just to kill me.”

Ferran’s lips drew away from his teeth for a moment, making him look surprisingly feral. “They are fortunate they did not, for then, I would have killed them.” The way he looked right now, Jason was convinced that his husband could have done it too. Ferran nestled in close to Jason again, straddling his body and clamping him tightly with his legs and arms.

Jason felt covered, almost smothered, by his husband, and he never wanted it to stop. He lay there and accepted the attention, the sweetness and love and pain and fear, and they just held each other for a long moment.

“I was on my way to the conference when Seronn called me,” Ferran continued after a while. “He told me what had happened to you. I had felt something, but the distance was great, and I thought you might have just been… angry with me.” His voice became tentative and unsure. Jason just held him closer. “I wanted to return to search for you, but then I felt something happen to my mother. By the time I arrived, she and the ambassador had been taken, along with your physician.”

“What about Grenn’s entourage?” Jason asked. “What about Penelope?”

“My mother’s guards are all dead. Penelope as well… but Jason—” Ferran lifted his head and stared down at him in wonder. “She was made like a machine! She had flesh mixed with mechanical pieces. I didn’t think humans could do that.”

“We can’t, not anymore,” Jason replied, surprised, but somehow not shocked. He had known something was wrong with Penelope. “Androids are illegal to own except under very special circumstances.”

“There were many dead Shamed there as well, so many. My mother told me that Penelope killed most of them. She was a mighty fighter.”

Manufactured to be a bodyguard. There was a lot more Jason wanted to know about Penelope, but it could wait on more important things. “Grenn is alive, then?”

“We found her, and Ambassador Howards and Dori, after we followed the course in the navigation unit you brought to us. They were the only ones taken in the end, although I think had the fight gone easier for the Shamed, they would have done more.” He stroked his smooth palm across Jason’s forehead like it meant approval for performing so well, and Jason leaned into the touch. “Our mothers were injured, but not so badly as you. Grenn is ruling her house again already, and Dori was well enough to see to you once he was brought back. The ambassador… was not so fortunate. Her hands had been removed.”

“Fuck,” Jason muttered heartfeltedly.

“Dori fitted her with prosthetics. Her new hands are almost done growing.”

Growing a new limb took close to a week with Regen. Moved by morbid curiosity, Jason looked up at Ferran and asked, “How long was I under?”

“Eight days,” his husband replied, too quietly. “You went for one day without Regen while the remaining Council members sent forces to subdue the Shamed and bring back our mothers. Our doctors did their best to treat you. Then Dori took over, but you were very… It was very close.” His hands moved unconsciously over Jason’s body, petting and stroking him, fingers clenching gently around an arm every now and then. “But I knew you would survive. I knew you would not leave me. I have faith in you.” He leaned in and kissed Jason again, his mouth hot and wet and desiring. “I trust you.” He kissed him again. “I need you.” A final kiss, bruisingly intense. Jason felt his husband’s quills sharpen and relax against his hands, but he didn’t get cut this time. “I love you.”

“I’m yours,” Jason told him. “Forever.” That made Ferran smile, but it didn’t stop his roving hands, or the intensity with which he looked at Jason—like Jason was something that might vanish out from under him.

“Jason,” Ferran whispered, “let me have you.”

Oh, yes. He didn’t care that they were in someone else’s den. He didn’t care that he hadn’t seen Giselle yet, talked to Dori, argued with Grenn, or done any of the hundred things that probably needed doing now that he was awake. His husband wanted him, the awkward distance between them was finally gone, and Jason’s cock was so hard at the thought of finally being filled with Ferran that he thought he might come before either of them was ready for it. He didn’t say anything, just pulled Ferran tighter into the vee of his legs and kissed him, hot and heavy and desperate.

Jason’s entire body resonated with Ferran’s guttural purr, and his mouth was consumed with the touch and taste of his husband. They ground against each other, and there was nothing refined or delicate about the way their hips moved. Ferran was aggressive, using his greater strength to hold Jason still against the bed as he rutted against him.

Jason shuddered with the force of the sensations wracking his newly refurbished body. Everything felt so new. Jason had gone deep into a Regen coma once before, and he remembered the aftereffects. His body felt fresh and invigorated, like everything had been overhauled or remade. His brain sparked with the rapid influx of hormones, and after a few minutes, Jason knew he had to come or he’d die, the pleasure swelling too quickly for him to push it down and make himself wait.

“Ferran….” he moaned, but his husband’s hands were already ripping his thin robe apart, and Ferran reached down and grabbed Jason hard, working him roughly. His balls twitched and tightened, and with a blazing rush of pure ecstasy, coupled with so much tension and heat that his abdomen ached, he came all over Ferran’s hand and his own body. He gasped, shoving himself hard up against his lover, milking every quiver of sensation out of his orgasm.

Jason tried to open his eyes, but the world was spinning, and it was easier just to relax into the aftershocks. Ferran was still moving against him, relentless in his own quest for pleasure, and Jason wanted to give it to him. He let his legs fall farther apart and drew his knees back, opening himself in blatant invitation to his husband. He felt Ferran’s nimble fingers dance across his stomach and gather up the slickness that coated him, and then one of those fingers pressed inside of him, followed a moment later by a second.

It hurt a little. Jason couldn’t remember the last time being penetrated had felt like this, so new, those two slender fingers seemingly huge inside of his tight channel. Maybe it was the Regen, or maybe it was just the fact that he hadn’t been fucked in over a month, but the burn of it almost felt rejuvenating. He forced himself to take a deep breath and then relaxed back into the languor that was still washing over him, the wonderful aftereffects of his own orgasm. The burn lessened and pleasure took over again, and then Ferran hitched Jason’s legs up high around his hips and pushed his way inside of him, so big that he seemed to fill Jason’s whole body.

“Jason.” It was the only intelligible word in a flurry of gasps and growls as Ferran thrust into him, hard and deep, his hands clenching so hard on Jason’s hips that Jason knew his brand-new skin would have bruises on it the next day.

The thought felt surprisingly good, actually—more of a turn-on than Jason had expected. He spread his arms wide on the narrow bed and just took it, all of it, harsh grinding thrusts and savage murmurs, every push making his aching cock twitch in response. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to recover so quickly, but apparently the combination of Regen and a hard, possessive fuck made coming again so soon an option. He wrapped his legs higher around Ferran, changing the angle, and as soon as Ferran struck that spot inside him, Jason moaned, quiet and desperate for more.

Ferran leaned down until they were chest to chest, forcing Jason’s legs wider as he shoved his hands beneath his husband’s shoulders, grasping them from behind. Ferran’s mouth fell against his throat, his lips moving constantly over Jason’s sweaty skin as he continued to thrust: short, sharp jabs of his cock inside of Jason, hitting that spot over and over again. Jason felt like he was going to explode. He would; he had to, there was no way he could contain all of this insane energy. It had never been like this, he had never been like this before, claimed with such abandon and responding just as ardently. He felt the slick, sticky drag of their stomachs against each other. His cock hardened further, and as a soft, muffling veil began to settle over his mind, he knew he wasn’t going to last.

He wanted to, though, he wanted to last long enough to come with Ferran this time. He knew his lover was close, so close, purring and groaning and holding him so tight, fucking into him and against him, totally lost. Jason took a deep breath and held it and prayed that Ferran would come now, because as soon as he exhaled, he knew he would have to let everything go. Stars swam across his vision. He closed his eyes, but they were still there, and each one was about to go nova.

Ferran’s grip suddenly tightened, his nails digging furrows into Jason’s shoulders as he pulled himself impossibly far into Jason’s body. His hips flexed helplessly, and the strangled sounds drawn from his throat as he came sounded tortured. Jason felt the bloom of heat inside of him and the press of hot, quivering flesh against his cock and, with a gusty sigh of relief, exhaled.

The stars exploded and Jason’s vision went white, and his hearing dimmed, like his ears were stuffed with cotton. He barely even felt himself come again, he was so lost in everything else. It was ecstasy; it was life and death; it was a perfect consummation of this choice, this relationship, this love. It was Ferran, with him and in him and for him, first and forever, and Jason knew that was exactly what he needed.

For a second, he wished that he could feel things the way his husband could, so he could know the ins and outs of what Ferran was experiencing at that moment—at every moment. He never would—he was no psychic—but it was enough that his husband got to experience it.

Gradually, Ferran slumped down against him, his body melting into a heap of loose limbs and a trembling core. Jason let his legs fall to the bed, but he wrapped his arms around Ferran instead and just held him there. They both spent a while basking in the afterglow, waiting for their breathing to even out and their heart rates to come back to something resembling their usual.

When Jason opened his eyes again, he could see normally and his hearing was clear. He sighed contentedly. “We have to do this again.”

Ferran chuckled weakly against his neck. “I agree.” He kissed the hollow of Jason’s throat and then pulled out. Jason bit his lip against the not-entirely comfortable sensation, but a moment later Ferran was purring and kissing him, petting his back and shoulders, and folding him into his embrace. It made Jason forget all about the sting. They lay together awhile longer, not speaking and not needing to. Jason could have lain there all day, but then a knock sounded on the door.

“Time to rejoin the madding crowd, lads,” Dori called out. “If it were me, I’d let you sleep—I know you two must need the rest after all that vigorous exercise—but duty calls! You have fifteen minutes.”

“Mmf.” Jason buried his face in Ferran’s shoulder, hiding his sudden blush.

Ferran grinned and kissed his ear. “We can at least shower together.”

“Only if we can get my legs to work.” Jason sighed.

“I will carry you if they don’t,” Ferran said, and his expression was so sweetly earnest that Jason was almost tempted to take him up on the offer, but his sense of dignity resurfaced.

“No need,” he said, brushing a final kiss to Ferran’s lips before he sat up. The world swam for a moment, but it straightened itself out pretty quickly. “Come on. Let’s go clean up.”

Chapter Eighteen

NATURALLY, THEY were pulled in separate directions as soon as they stepped foot outside of the room. Ferran was directed to his mother, and Dori swooped in and pulled Jason off to his makeshift infirmary, which was only one door over down the hallway.

Grenn had allocated part of her den to Giselle and her entourage, Dori explained as he sat Jason down. “The ambassador’s house is still closed off while more evidence is collected, and the Council House itself isn’t nearly secure enough to be considered a safe place for recuperation,” Dori said with a disapproving frown as he took a blood sample. “We could have gone to the ship, but Ferran refused to be apart from you, and he’s been ordered to stay within Berenze while the legality of all his actions is argued over, so Matriarch Grenn’s home ended up being the best option.”

“What do you mean, ‘the legality of his actions’?” Jason asked.

“Well, he took over his House in his mother’s absence. The Solitarians are trying to make it a retroactively punishable offense, as well as illegal in the future, but that contingent… well, they’ve got other problems right now, so don’t look so worried. Ferran will be fine.”

“I’m not worried,” Jason lied with a perfectly straight face.

“Sure you aren’t.” Dori pressed a hand against Jason’s back, along his spine and his kidneys. “Any pain here?”

“No.”

“Bloody incredible,” Dori sighed. “It’s amazing you lived, son, it really is. You were in very rough shape by the time I got to you. The damage to your soft tissue alone…. Most humans wouldn’t have lasted for three days without the environmental prophylactics—not with any ability to move or function. You’re something else.” He looked at the results of the blood sample analysis and smiled slightly. “Elevated levels of endorphins, but I chock that up to a happy and rather energetic reunion. You’re in excellent health now, Jason. Try not to get your fool self kidnapped and dropped in the middle of the damn jungle again.”

“Dori.” Jason stopped the doctor from moving away with a gentle hand on his arm. “Are you… all right?” This kind of questioning had always felt invasive to Jason, but he wanted to know, and he figured that between friends it was allowable, even if Dori didn’t say anything.

To Jason’s surprise, Dori turned back and sat down next to him on the bed, his shoulders hunched even more than usual. “Mostly,” he said. His voice sounded a little rough, and his expression was dejected. “I was hardly touched, you know. The Shamed saw me as unimportant, a low-level male. The things they did to the women, though… I mean, don’t get me wrong, Giselle’s a tough one, and she’s got a good handle on stoic, but they had us for four days. Didn’t let her sleep, didn’t feed her or give her water, and they kept cutting her, little by little, making her bleed until they finally finished off her hands. They got a start in on her feet too, just before we were rescued.”

Dori huffed a tired chuckle. “Least she didn’t suffer the environment like you did. Giselle’s been here so long that her body is better adapted. It still hurt her, but not as bad. And the whole time, she was being strong, not backing down, but I knew she was afraid. I’ve been her personal physician for decades—I know that woman. Not afraid just for herself, but for me. For Grenn. For you too, boy. She kept demanding to know what had happened to you, wanted to bargain for you. Those jungle freaks wouldn’t tell her anything, and I thought it was because you were already dead.”

“Oh.” That must have been a hard thing to live with.

Dori smiled crookedly. “Little more honesty than you were looking for, Jason?”

“Not at all. I’m glad you told me.” He was, it just made him feel sick inside to hear it.

“Well, I’m kind of glad you asked. As soon as things have calmed down here, we’re being ordered back to the nearest Federation medical station for evaluation, but that could be a while, and a trouble shared is a trouble halved. You won’t be coming with us, by the way,” he added. “You’re considered a citizen of Perelan, and as such have to do your coping here, but I have the feeling that won’t be so hard as long as Ferran’s with you.”

He had that right. “I’ll be fine,” Jason promised.

“I know.” Dori shook his head and stood up. “Come on, you’ve got to get to Giselle. Your escort’s probably waiting outside the door. He’s been hovering for days now.”

“What escort?” Jason asked. Dori just threw him a wry grin and opened the door. Corran was standing there, wearing green and black and looking worried.

His worry seemed to evaporate on seeing Jason. “You’re awake!” He bounded over and caught Jason in a tight hug. “We were so worried for you!”

Jason’s arms closed reflexively around Corran. He glanced over at Dori, who mouthed Get used to it before shooing both of them out into the hall. Corran’s grip was tight, and it took some gentle prying for Jason to finally convince him to let go. Jason took in the wide, shiny eyes and awed expression and sighed. Hero worship. It was a phase he had hoped to avoid.

“I’m all right now,” he assured Corran.

Corran didn’t look convinced. “Will you come and see the family? Everyone has missed you.”

“I need to see my mother first,” he said, and Corran’s ears twitched in sudden embarrassment.

“Of course. Ambassador Howards is this way.” He took Jason’s hand and led him down the hall, going slowly just in case Jason had lied to him about the state of his health. Jason internally rolled his eyes but followed Corran to one of the rooms next to Grenn’s own bedroom. The door was closed. Corran let go of him and stepped back, and Jason knocked.

“Come in.”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he opened the door, but it certainly wasn’t Giselle, on her feet and looking as calm and collected as ever, agilely shuffling papers on a table with her robotic prostheses. The mechanical hands seemed almost real, if you didn’t look past the wrist and see the bulge in her forearm where the adjustment panel for the nerve tissue grafts poked through her skin.

“Jason.” She swept over to him and took his face in her oddly cold hands and then kissed his cheek. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

“Right,” he deadpanned, “because it was all my fault.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Sit down, please.” She indicated the table, and they sat together. It felt so normal that Jason almost had a moment of déjà-vu before he realized what was missing. Penelope. She wasn’t there, hovering over Giselle’s shoulder like she always did. Giselle caught his roving eyes.

“I’m not used to it either,” she confessed. “She’s always been there, ever since I was a child. It’s hard to imagine life without her.” Her tone was soft and subdued.

“Then she was an android.”

“Yes. One of the last to be built, intended solely for family service. My grandfather managed to convince the regulators not to have her decommissioned as long as she remained in our family’s care. No loaning her out, no selling her, no reprogramming her. No advertising her status either, although of course, Dori knew. He’s been with me almost as long as she has, and he never said a thing. Fortunately for me, Penelope came equipped to act as a bodyguard, among other things.” Giselle’s false fingers drew random lines across the tabletop. “She killed over ten of the Shamed before they finally pulled her to pieces. I didn’t see it all, but… I’m proud of her. I really do miss her.”

Jason reached out and took Giselle’s wandering hand into his own. “You’re scratching the table,” he said quietly. The fact that she hadn’t realized it showed him just how hard she was taking Penelope’s loss. Giselle didn’t like to show weakness, and Jason wasn’t going to force her to. He didn’t say anything else, just held her hand silently.

Giselle looked down at the swirling gouges she’d left on the tabletop and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she was fully in control of herself, and she took her hand back.

“There’s an investigation going on over the attack, of course. Everything points to Srell, but lower members of her family are sacrificing themselves to protect her. I don’t know whether we’ll be able to hold her accountable in the end or not. On the bright side, her House is going to be weakened for generations thanks to this, and the families that were siding with her are doing their best to create some distance now, to keep it from seeming like they were colluding. Which,” Giselle said, rolling her eyes, “in all likelihood, they absolutely were. But that’s neither here nor there right now. With a firm majority of support on the Council of Matriarchs, Grenn should be able to enact some real progressive change in this society. More education and employment options for males, better medical care, more scientific research, more avenues for trade…. We’re coming up on a tremendously important step for Perelan, and you caused much of that progress.”

“By marrying one of their sons?”

“By providing Ferran with the strength he needed to step in and show those archaic idiots that he was just as capable of command as his mother, given the right motivation,” Giselle replied. “By providing the youth of this city with a new type of role model. By treating people with respect, even when they’ve tried to kill you. I’m told that Seronn is going to be acquitted of wrongdoing in the plot due to his part in saving you, by the way.”

Jason considered that for a moment, remembering bits and pieces of their interaction just before he was taken. He had the feeling that Seronn had done everything he’d done for Ferran’s sake, not Jason’s, but the end result was still positive. “Good.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Now, did Dori give you a clean bill of health?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent! You can take a few more days off to recover, but really, there’s no rest for the weary now, Jason. We have to keep the momentum going, and that means you being visible and continuing your classes. Your students have been quite distraught, from what I understand.” She stood up, and he imitated her. “Go and see Grenn, then go home. You still look tired.”

Jason supposed he did. Over a week in Regen produced great results, but it hadn’t done much for his stamina, and he’d already had quite a workout on his first day awake. He wasn’t quite done yet, though. He moved in close, took Giselle’s face in his hands, and kissed her cheeks. “I’m happy you’re well,” he whispered against her cheekbone. “Mother.” When he drew back, his lips were wet with her tears.

“Oh, go on,” she muttered around a clenched jaw. Jason left without another word, because he knew how it felt to hang on to your composure by a thread and how important it could be that your weaknesses were yours alone.

If Jason had been surprised at how well Giselle looked, he was absolutely floored by how unchanged Grenn appeared to be. He found her in the audience chamber, surrounded by her family and eating dinner, but as soon as they saw him, the noise stopped, and every eye turned his way. She said something too rapid for Jason to understand in Perel, and a moment later, his extended family thronged around him, their voices purring and yipping and their hands reaching out to stroke his hair, face, and shoulders.

Grennson, naturally, found his leg and held on to it until Jason reached down and picked him up. The Perels who spoke his language called out their welcomes joyously, and Jason felt himself flush beneath the scrutiny although honestly, all of their genuine affection was pretty nice.

The twins found him a moment later, and he was folded up into a body-crushing hug that made Grennson whine with discomfort. Neyarr and Garrell pulled back and immediately lit in to Jason.

“The moment we leave this family, everything goes wrong,” Garrell declared as he took Grennson out of Jason’s arms.

“It’s clear that you cannot function without us,” Neyarr agreed, taking Jason’s elbow in his hand.

“Our paragon of a wife is allowing us to split our time between our new family and our old,” Garrell continued, ushering Jason toward the platform where Grenn and Ferran were sitting. “So you will be seeing a lot of us in the future.”

“Try to contain your excitement,” Neyarr added, shooing the children back.

Ferran left his mother’s side and came over to meet them. He kissed Jason tenderly on the lips, and both of them ignored the sudden swell of giggles in the room. “My mother wishes to speak with you alone.”

“Naturally,” Jason murmured.

“It will be all right.” Ferran kissed him again, and then, almost faster than he could believe, the audience chamber emptied, leaving just himself and Grenn. She was sipping steaming tea and looked unchanged, except for the cane lying next to her chair.

“Tea?” she asked him as he approached the dais.

“No, thank you.”

“You’ve been sleeping for many days. You should eat,” Grenn chided. “Your doctor told me you should have simple foods to start with. Tea is simple. Come and drink.” She poured him a cup, and Jason sighed and gave in to the fact that he was not in control of this meeting. The tea did taste good, though.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Grenn asked after a moment, tilting her plump head to the side. “Do you have any idea what your actions have accomplished?”

“Giselle gave me an idea of the repercussions of what happened with the House of Srell.”

Grenn shook her head. “Giselle understands politics, but she does not understand this. You, simply by being completely devoted to Ferran, have turned him into a daughter.”

Jason blinked once and then grinned broadly. It was disrespectful, but he couldn’t help it. “I think I can safely say he’s definitely still your son.”

Grenn’s quills ruffled with indignation at the joke. “Physically, he is still a son, but mentally, emotionally, he has taken on the responsibility and presence of a daughter. All the other matriarchs sense it. He forced a divided, warring council to hand him control of tremendous assets for the sake of finding you, and thereby, finding me. To ensure your safety, he acted with decisiveness and leadership and made others recognize these strengths. Ferran has always been more empathic than most sons, but his ability has swelled considerably these past few weeks. He is something new now, and not even I can predict how this development shall play out.”

Grenn took another sip of her tea. “I was quite surprised when I learned that he was able to find you in the forest. I had not thought the pair of you had managed to bond so completely. The last we talked, things were rather rocky between you two.”

“I was a little surprised myself,” Jason admitted. He had figured that getting back to his husband would be all down to him.

“Ferran told me he felt you like a ray of sunlight, drawing him to you. This feeling…. This is what exists between matriarchs and their consorts. This is what the rhezan is supposed to facilitate.”

Jason brightened. “Then we don’t need to have one now.”

“Technically, no,” Grenn said, clearly not thrilled with the idea. “Especially not after my son bullied the Council into helping him find you. Your bond is practically famous at this point, but I want you to consider having the rhezan anyway, for form’s sake.”

“Perhaps a modified version,” Jason offered as a peace gesture. One where Ferran doesn’t get mauled.

“Perhaps,” Grenn said. “Perhaps. It’s a drastic change from normal, but I am beginning to expect those where you are concerned, Jason Kim Howards Grenn. Now go on.” She waved one thick hand toward the back door. “Go be with your consort.”

Jason didn’t need to be told twice.

Epilogue

A YEAR after his arrival on Perelan, Jason and Ferran did have their own rhezan. Instead of a small, private ceremony, though, it was made open to the public, included as a part of the larger celebration that was Ferran’s induction as Perelan’s ambassador to the Federation. His position was more about goodwill and education than bargaining, but the fact that he was given the power to negotiate anything at all was significant.

Srell had eventually stepped down as the matriarch of her House, in exchange for escaping exile after her involvement in the plot to kill Grenn and Giselle was revealed, and her daughter was a much weaker opponent.

In the latest deal struck with the Council, part of Jason and Ferran’s work abroad would be evaluating human anthropology students who wanted to study on Perelan. Plus there were a dozen other official mandates and a million things to prepare before they left the planet, but time was still made for the marriage ceremony.

In the end, it was very simple. They stood and faced each other in front of a sea of watching Perels. Despite the force behind those stares, Jason didn’t even feel them, because he was totally absorbed in contemplating his husband. He stared into Ferran’s wide amber eyes, mesmerized by everything he saw there, every facet of love and devotion. He could see himself reflected there, and he knew that Ferran felt him, every piece of him, more deeply than he could comprehend.

Being so open didn’t frighten Jason now. Instead, the connection soothed the fire in his soul, making him feel comforted and safe like he hadn’t since he was a small child. He hadn’t had a nightmare in months—not since his trek to Berenze—and he thought they might be gone for good now.

There were words spoken, Giselle and Grenn going through the motions of giving their sons away, but there was no violence or pain. For Jason, there was only Ferran, and when it came time for him to say his one line, he was glad it was so simple, because otherwise, he wouldn’t have remembered it. “I’m yours,” he told his husband.

Ferran smiled at him. “And I am yours.” And then they embraced.

Then there was food, tea, alcohol, and far too many people to deal with, but Jason did his best. Ferran got them out of there in under an hour, and an hour after that, they lay replete in bed, exhausted and drunk on each other.

“We leave Perelan tomorrow,” Ferran murmured. “Do you think I’m ready?”

“Of course you’re ready.”

“I am nervous.”

“So am I,” Jason said—and he was, a little. “But we’ll be together, and we can handle just about anything together. It’ll be fine.”

“I believe you,” Ferran told him seriously. “I have faith in you.”

“As well you should.” Jason kissed Ferran’s mouth softly. “Because I’m always right.”

Ferran smiled and shook his head. “Not always. I can recall several times you have been very, very wrong. Almost wrong enough to leave me all alone.”

“I was a victim of circumstance,” Jason objected. “And besides, it all worked out in the end. I’m not going anywhere, Ferran. Never.”

“Good.” Ferran grinned impishly. “Forever suits us better.”

Jason could just remember telling him that, a little more than twelve months ago. “I think so too.”

More from Cari Z.

Jonathan Hatcher has led an interesting life. Once the psychic protégé of Dr. Nelson Cagney of the Bureau of Psychological Corrections, he escaped and went on the run through post-World War Three Europe, scraping a living out of the ruins of civilization and avoiding the mindless vics: humans turned berserker by exposure to biological and chemical weapons.

Once again at Cagney’s mercy, Jonathan is stuck in PsyCo’s high-security wing with no idea whether Sam, the man he thinks he may love, is alive or dead by his hand. Though at first he only plays along for news of Sam, soon Jonathan sees the conditions in the warring European Coalition are desperate. Sam and Jonathan must make a choice: make for France and a life together… or team up with their captors against a devastating new threat.

Lee Summers is past expecting to find love. He has a fulfilling career and a few human connections, and he’s determined to be happy with those. When he meets Felix Clymenos during a vacation in Colorado, he doesn’t expect to feel so passionate about him. Felix is intriguing, but when he starts to feature in Lee’s dreams—and his slowly strengthening nightmares—Lee wonders if it wouldn’t be a better idea to walk away. There’s a mystery behind Felix’s affections and somehow Lee feels like he’s known Felix his whole life. Before they can be happy together, Lee has to know why that is… and what that means for their future.

Readers love Cari Z.

In Memoriam

“This book was exactly what a short story should be, and I enjoyed it a lot.”

—Joyfully Jay

“The story will definitely lull you into a certain subdued mood until you discover its twist.”

—Paddylast Inc

A Blinded Mind

“Superb world building and an engaging story…”

—Gay Book Reviews

CARI Z. was a bookworm as a child and remains one to this day. In an effort to combat her antisocial reading behavior, she did all sorts of crazy things, from competitive gymnastics to alligator wresting (who even knew that was legal!) to finally joining the Peace Corps, which promptly sent her and her husband to the wilds of West Africa, stuck them in a hut, and said, “See ya!” She also started writing then because what else are you going to do for entertainment with no electricity? She writes award-winning LGBTQ fiction featuring aliens, supervillains, soothsayers, and even normal people sometimes.

You can contact Cari at carizabeth@hotmail.com. In fact, please do. She’d love to hear from you.

Website: cari-z.net

Blog: carizerotica.blogspot.com

Twitter: @author_cariz

By Cari Z.

Animal Magnetism (Dreamspinner Anthology)

A Blinded Mind

Changing Worlds

Different Spheres

In Memoriam

Worth the Wait

Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Published by

DREAMSPINNER PRESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Changing Worlds

© 2016 Cari Z.

Cover Art

© 2016 Anne Cain.

annecain.art@gmail.com

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.

ISBN: 978-1-63477-907-4

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63477-908-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016913763

Published October 2016
v. 2.0

First Edition of Opening Worlds published by Storm Moon Press, 2011.

First Edition of Changing Worlds published by Storm Moon Press, 2012.

Printed in the United States of America