The Girl Who Fell From The Sky - Rebecca Royce Page 0,9
Mattis chimed in. “I mean, who’d criticize a man for bringing a beautiful, unmarked, unowned female to an unoccupied bedroom?”
An injured, unowned, unmarked woman, I almost snapped out loud, but the other word gave me a slight pause. Beautiful. I’d been described lots of ways—clever, defective, privileged, tough, brave—but I couldn’t think of a time when someone had called me beautiful. It seemed like such an old-fashioned term. No one in the Union defined their worth by physical beauty anymore, and I guess when we all moved past that, we stopped mentioning it to each other. Which meant that I was completely unprepared for the feeling such an offhand compliment sparked inside my chest.
My body still ached, and I was still tired and confused and a little scared, but I wasn’t scared specifically of these guys anymore, not even Mattis, despite his swagger. Here, in this room, I felt…valued? I glanced down at the thermos—Astor’s prized gift.
“She’s hurt,” Nox said in his gentle voice, though with an edge to it now, “from the crash. So perhaps you should delay any aggressive wooing until after she is fully healed and rested.”
Like beautiful, the word woo was old and long unused. It also produced a similar giddy effect inside my body, like a silent, delighted giggle erupted there and could not be stifled. I knew all these words, mostly from poetry, from the classics and ancients. I didn’t recognize the feeling they evoked at all, but I wanted to examine it.
Mattis looked abashed, which was kind of difficult for a man who was so large and scruffy and…wild. He reminded me of a bear variant I’d once seen at the free habitat on Darnysis. He could probably be just as dangerous, but there was something about him that made you want to pet him. Or snuggle.
“Oh, you don’t have to delay all that long,” Astor said smugly.
Nox frowned. “Yes, he does…”
Mattis made a wordless noise of protest, but Astor gestured toward my lap. Or rather, toward the thermos I was still clutching between both of my hands.
“You used my calathari salve on her as soon as the burns happened, right?” he asked Nox, who nodded. “Well then, have a look.”
I flipped my hands over so they could see, and sure enough, they were no longer injured. Even our most modern burn methods didn’t heal skin that fast. “How did you do that?”
Nox elbowed Astor. “He’s spent his life learning all about the plants and herbs on this planet. He can do amazing things.”
“Don’t get him wrong, he only started doing it as a means of trying to figure out which ones were safe and would make him high.” Mattis laughed.
Astor shot him a look before he turned his attention back to me. “For what it is worth, Bianca, I don’t think you’re a Reamer spy.”
Mattis shook his head. “Who thought that? Look at her skin. She’s been taken care of. You know what they do to their women. Who do you belong to?”
I swallowed. “I don’t want to know what the Reamers do. I know that the things I say to you don’t make sense, but I don’t belong to anyone. I am just my own person. I live with my brother, Brent. Or I used to. I am going to have to again, shortly. I’m having… Never mind.” They didn’t need to know about my heart issue or why it was forcing me to leave my job and live with my brother like he was my parent and not my twin.
“You’re right.” Mattis sighed. “It makes no sense. So now what?” The last question was not directed to me.
Astor scrunched up his face. “We take her to my brother. What choice do we have?”
Nox nodded. “I’ll go. I hoped…well, I took a shot there might be another way.”
Dread pooled in my stomach. “That’s Torrin, right? The one you guys keep avoiding. The one you think might hurt me.”
“I hope not,” Astor and Mattis said at the same time.
“And he might do that because he might think I’m a Reamer spy? Even after you explain to him, Nox, that you found me.”
He linked my fingers with his. “I’m going to be honest with you. I believe you’ve come from the sky, but most of our people will not. The idea…it’s too much, I think, for most people. Whether or not Torrin believes will greatly depend on what kind of day he is having. We all grew up together, and we live by