There's only one thing left on the bed. It's the squares of purple cloth that masquerades as lingerie, the garment that Danek was going to show me how to wear. It's filmy, sheer, and delicate, and I assume that it wraps around me. As if I’m a long-anticipated present under the tree on Christmas morning, about to be unwrapped by my adoring husband.
It's a lie, all of it. We need to pretend to be crazy about each other in public, but in private, there’s no necessity to keep the charade going. There’s no need for this lingerie. Danek is never going to see me in it. He’s never going to unwrap me and watch the fabric fall to the floor in a whisper.
There is no earthly reason to pack it. I stare at it for a long time. My hand hesitates over that soft scrap of fabric, and then, in a fit of madness, I pick it up and stuff it deep into my bag.
12
Danek
On a station where space is a premium, and hotel rooms are so expensive most people opt to berth on their own ships, the Cindifin spaceport is impressively large and airy. Plants soar to the sky in the sun-filled atrium, and dozens of tiny winged birds swoop around the brightly colored foliage, filling the air with their song. The Wekat Exchange is in space, but here, in the Cindifin spaceport, you could be fooled into thinking you were planetside.
It’s a statement of power. The House of Cindifin has never shown any interest in the politics of the Homeworld, but they are a wealthy house, and they don’t want you to forget it.
I show the guards at the entrance my employment contract. They give the floofs several dubious looks. “You say that the pets have been cleared?” one of them asks suspiciously.
“Yes,” I reply patiently. “I’ve bought passage for me, for my bondmate, and for her three pets. If you look at the shuttle manifest, you’ll see it’s all in order.”
She looks through my paperwork again. “Seems strange,” she says. “People seldom bring their bondmates. And you’re not only bringing her, but her pets too?”
“People don’t bring their bondmates because of Noturn’s resonance field,” I retort. “It’s not worth the risk. But Naomi isn’t Zorahn, and her people are unaffected by the planet.”
“As are Pumpkin, Plague, and Pestilence,” Naomi adds.
Cindifin must have finally added English to the lexicon, because the guards understand Naomi. “You named your pet after an orange fruit?”
A line is building up behind us. The second guard looks up, looks at the queue, and throws up his hands. “Oh, just let them in,” he grumbles. “If the safety inspector wants to spend the majority of his bonus on shuttle transport fees, that’s his problem, not mine.”
Inside the spaceport, we’re met by a harried looking Cindifin official. “I am Garlx ab Cindifin,” he introduces himself. “You are Danek ab Usora, yes? The safety inspector?”
“I am. And this is my bondmate, Naomi Knoll.”
He bows in greeting. “Director Lashi’vi is usually here in person, but unfortunately, she had a crisis.”
“A crisis?” Director Lashi’vi has been in charge of the operation on Noturn for almost fifteen years, and she has never once missed a shuttle departure. “Naomi and I met the Director earlier today, and she seemed in good spirits. It’s nothing serious, I hope?”
“She didn’t say. But it will be okay. Director Lashi’vi is extremely capable. She should be running far more than just the Noturn operation.” He looks around to make sure he hasn’t been overheard. “House politics. Always messy.” He checks his tablet. “Okay, the departure lounge is behind me, through the set of double-doors. As soon as you clear the medical screening, feel free to head there and make yourself comfortable. If you require a private room while you wait, they are available for rent.”
I ignore the bit about the private room to focus on the more important sentence. “Clear the medical screening?” Bast. This is new. Dariux’s primer had made no mention of a medical screen. Such a test means scientists, which is bad for both of us. Naomi reacts very badly when she sees one of them. And of course, if they do a genetic test, everyone is going to learn that my testing tattoos are fake, and that I’m definitely not Zorahn.
“Updated safety protocol,” he explains with a grimace. “There have been some particularly nasty viruses floating around in the Outer Empire. Because of Noturn’s resonance field, we can only send down one healer and one scientist with the shuttle. If something goes badly wrong, evacuation is impossible.”
That’s not exactly true. Evacuation isn’t impossible. What Garlx means is that evacuation isn’t cost-effective for Cindifin. I don’t voice that thought out loud—a safety inspector wouldn’t be talking back to his employers.
I paste a concerned look on my face. “The scientists…” I begin slowly.
Garlx is Zorahn. Even here, far away from the Homeworld, every Zorahn dreads the Testing. He doesn’t need to be particularly perceptive to realize the reason for my hesitation.
“It’s a closed system,” he assures me. “The scientist in charge of the screening is loyal to the House of Cindifin alone, and not to the Crimson Citadel. If you have the virus, you are zapped before you travel. If you don’t have it, your data is deleted immediately.” His face wears an expression of distaste. “The House of Cindifin takes care of its employees. We are required by law to participate in the Testing, but we do not support it.”
Is he lying? I’ll find out soon enough. If the screening flags me, they’re testing for more than viruses.
When we’re out of earshot, Naomi looks at me curiously. “What was that about?” she asks.
“If they examine my genes, they’ll instantly realize I’m Draekon,” I reply. “I can
