least bit interested in was making war, and that was just fine. That’s what the warrior class was for.
At the conclusion of the kata portion of the class, Ginny bowed and left the line of women. Tigh warmed when she moved to his side, as if she belonged there. And he realized, she truly did. She was his woman. His future life partner. His. Just his.
As he would be hers. If she would but accept him into her heart.
“What are they doing now?” he whispered close to her ear, encouraging her to tell him more about their ways.
Ginny watched the class pair off after some instruction and begin sparring practice. Tigh watched their movements with a practiced gaze. He had often engaged in just such practice. In fact, it had been a daily event in his life until he had left the Zenai mountain. He was somewhat amazed that the humans would have such similar teaching and fighting methods.
“Henny usually teaches a few moves then allows open sparring. I think she’s adjusting her methods somewhat today because of the audience. We’re not accustomed to having such a large group of watchers.” Ginny’s voice was pitched low so that only he could hear her comments. “Okay,” she said as Henny called for the group’s attention. “Watch this. She’s going to demonstrate a new move, using Tiggy as a practice dummy, then allow the rest of the class to work on the same move in pairs.”
“We use much the same methods to teach young priest candidates when they first arrive on the mountain.” Tigh thought fondly back on his initial years as a novitiate.
Ginny looked up at him, her eyes questioning. “I can’t imagine you as a priest, Tigh.”
He sighed. “For many years, I thought that was my path in life, but the Mother Goddess had different plans for me.”
Ginny placed her little hand in his discreetly as she stood at his side. The small gesture warmed his heart.
“I’m glad.”
Little bubbles of happiness rose in him suddenly, like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was joy, he thought with bemusement. Clear, forthright, unequivocal joy. He’d never expected to feel such a pure emotion.
“Me too,” was all he could manage between the need to mask the effervescent emotion running through his veins while on public display, and his desire to keep what little he could of their private lives, private.
“Oh, look at that leg sweep. That’s a cool move.” Ginny’s attention was on the class as it progressed, but Tigh noted happily that her hand remained in his. She was starting to get used to him, he thought with some satisfaction.
“Cool, as you say,” he squeezed her hand, “but potentially dangerous for a woman in your condition.”
Ginny sighed heavily. “Oh, all right. I concede your point. Getting thrown around when newly pregnant is probably not a good idea.”
Tigh refrained from chastising her with a good deal of effort, but he was trying to give her some leeway. After all, she had come to him from a totally different culture, where gender roles were insanely disparate. He had to give her time—and give himself time—to come to terms and meet, hopefully, somewhere in the middle.
“What do they call this sort of fighting practice?” Tigh strove to change the subject.
“Henny can tell you much more about it, but this is an ancient form of martial arts. Back on Earth, many centuries ago, martial arts developed among many cultures. Much of what we have still today, is the same—or as similar as we can manage—as what those ancient monks developed all those centuries ago. Tradition is very important among the teachers and practitioners of almost all martial arts. Henny learned from her father. He was one of the grand champions of his day, and he owned and operated one of the finest martial arts schools anywhere in the galaxy. Students would come to him from all over.”
“Did you know him?” Tigh sensed deep feelings just under the surface of her words.
Ginny nodded once. “I was fortunate enough to study with him as a child. Sensei Mick was one of the finest men I have ever known. He was like a second father to me, and Henny was like a sister. She still is.”
“I had no idea you knew each other as children.”
“We grew up together. Our parents were friends. It was their fondest hope that I would fall in love with and marry one of Henny’s brothers. She had six brothers, you know. Of course,