I’m not stupid, I saw my arms and legs over the years. I convinced myself the green tone of my skin was a trick of the light in the mines. I reach to touch my reflection’s face. It looks sad, like it’s going to cry.
Is this really me? The young male who’d barely become a shifter? The son my mother said looked like my father? A male with golden skin and a long braid? Could this ugly male in the reflection be me?
Bald. Green. Pebbled skin. And look at his eyes. Once I get past the glowing green irises, I see the pain. So much pain.
KJ’s beautiful face never hinted that she saw this. How did she hide her revulsion?
“Kai-Lee,” I whisper, trying to conjure a shift. “Kai-Lee,” I chant over and over, hoping to evoke a change as I repeat the magic words the high priest said to me the day I became an az’rah. I close my eyes tight and imagine I’m flying, or loping through the meadows on four hooves. Nothing.
I’d like to be A’Zul again, but I’d be happy to be a stallion or a dragon or even a little chukka loping through the purple grasses toward its hole in a tree.
I’d thought she was falling in love with me. When she threw her head back in physical ecstasy and called me that abominable name, I’d convinced myself she had feelings for me. One look at my reflection belies that fact.
I’ll look for a doorway to step off this vessel. I don’t want to see KJ again. She doesn’t have to be kind to me anymore or pretend she likes me. We both know what we shared in the darkness of that cavern was because of the reds, not true attraction.
“Are you alright in there?” she calls through the door.
I freeze, not wanting to leave the room.
“Have you . . . seen me?” Drack, that was stupid.
“Is this a riddle? Are you lost?” her voice is so happy. She thinks I’m joking. She must not have seen me. “I’m . . . different. You won’t like what you see.”
“Another riddle. Come out and talk to me. And I need to know your name. I’m not calling you the s-word one more time.”
“KJ. Something’s changed. I don’t want you to see me.” So much has been consumed by the dark corners of my mind, but I remember bits and pieces of my capture from my homeworld. I’d been running on four legs in a meadow when I was stolen onto a ship and thrown into chains. It’s a dim blur, but I remember the miserable pain of the loss of everything I’d ever known—my family, the temple, my whole world.
It feels like that now. Everything I thought I had is crashing down. I thought I was free and had a female who cared for me. I turn from the door and stare at the green monster in the mirror. How could she care for this?
“You’re scaring me. Come out. Talk to me,” her happy, carefree voice is gone. She’s clearly worried.
“I’ll come out if you close your eyes.”
She pauses, then, “I’m sitting down. My eyes are closed, but I’m not happy about it. And please, tell me your name.”
“A’Zul,” I say, then feel like it’s a lie. I’m not A’Zul anymore. He died. I am Slag. “Call me Slag.”
She says nothing.
I open the door, step into the room, and see her. She’s beautiful, just as I remembered. Her shoulder-length hair is pale like mine used to be. Her features fit her face perfectly. I picture her face next to mine in the mirror. Opposites. Beautiful and beastly. We don’t belong together.
I consider turning toward the door and running, but I know we’re on a ship. Although I don’t know how big it is, I know there’s no way off a space vessel. There’s only one other way to get out of her sight. I’ll stay here and make her leave.
“Keep your eyes closed,” I order in my sternest voice. I’ve never used it with her before.
Her face falls, telling me just how much my behavior hurts her. It’s better than her seeing a monster at such close range.
I approach her, put my hands on her upper arms, and encourage her to rise to her feet.
“Is this a game?” she asks, but she doesn’t sound happy. She’s wary.
I escort her to the door, then lift my hand to the plate to open the door as I’ve seen her do.
As I’m about to force her into the hallway, she opens her eyes, turns in my grip, and looks at me.
“What’s going on A’Zul?” Fear and distress cloud her pretty gray eyes. I’ve hurt her. This was all about not hurting her.
“Look at me,” my tone is forceful. “Have you not noticed what I look like?”
“You look like A’Zul, the male I’ve known for a month—a lunar. My best friend. The male who saved me from those beasts in the mine. The male,” her voice lowers, “who made me scream in pleasure ten times a day. What am I missing?”
So it wasn’t a trick of the lighting in the mine. My skin has been green for a long time.
“Since you’ve known me, I’ve had no hair?”
“Right.”
“My eyes have glowed?”
“Yes.”
“My skin’s been this disgusting texture? Like a warty water animal?”
“Uh . . .”
Obviously, there’s no kind way for her to answer that.
This is about gratitude. I understand now. It makes me love her more and makes me that much more determined to force her to leave. I don’t want her to stay a moment longer out of obligation.
“You saw yourself in the mirror,” she says matter-of-factly. “It didn’t occur to me that
