sweet with the scent of sun-warmed pine and mild enough to warrant leaving off the thermal-control sewn into the inside lining of her brother's shirt. Inhaling, she angled her face into the sun, an intense blue-white pearl so different from Mistraal's oversized golden star. The sunshine complimented the hues of the lavender sky and a forest of conifers that was broken only by frothy streams and a few outcroppings of bald rocks.
Ian spoke companionably as they walked, picking up pebbles occasionally and tossing them into the dense undergrowth lining the trail. "So. You and Quin aren't best friends yet."
She rolled her eyes. "If he could inventory and keep track of my brain cells, he would."
"The truth is, I need you, Tee, and he knows it. We've lost three pilots to alcohol. And don't forget— you were drunk when I hired you."
"I don't drink… that much." I don't drink at all, she longed to tell him. But she had a questionable past to maintain.
"Carn used to say that, too. Then he killed himself with the stuff."
Her hand flew to the wings on her chest. Likely they'd belonged to her predecessor. The thought made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. "I'm sorry," she said.
His casual shrug belied deeper feelings on the subject. "Between us, I'm sure we can think of some recreational activities that don't include alcohol."
He bent over to scoop up more pebbles. As she stared at his strong back and tight backside, outrageously wanton and explicit thoughts overtook her. When I want sex, I don't have to buy it.
"Well"— she blushed hard— "I am open to sampling new and varied methods of enjoyment."
But how new and how varied? She wasn't sure. She was a virgin, yes, but she'd received instruction in the art of lovemaking from her toddler years. As a female Vash she'd been part of discussions, done reading, heard comparisons of techniques by experienced teachers. All her questions had been answered honestly and completely, or she'd been given the appropriate literature. Her brothers, on the other hand, had accumulated actual physical experience as teenagers with the palace courtesans. They'd been taught skills designed to bring their future wives pleasure, to ultimately strengthen each of their marriages.
The foundation of society is family. Sexuality enhances spirituality, said the Treatise of Trade. It was an integral part of her culture, and her faith. Tee'ah had expected to be a virgin on her wedding day, now that the marriage was off, there was no requirement to remain untouched. Was there?
Oblivious to her speculation, Ian shrugged off his black leather outer garment and anchored it over one shoulder with his index finger. The short-sleeved shirt he wore beneath was tight enough to glimpse the flexing of his stomach muscles as he strode beside her. The end of a thin gold chain disappeared into his shirt. Otherwise, he wore no skin jewelry, which was so fashionable of late, and no other adornment. And no Vash signet ring, she noted— another sign that she wasn't keeping company with the one Earth dweller she needed to avoid at all cost. She couldn't imagine the crown prince being without the trappings of his rank.
She steered the conversation back toward safer ground. "What will we find at the marketplace?"
"Just about anything you'd want— most of it illegal as heck." He acted as if he assumed she'd seen the like before. Perhaps she hadn't yet, but in a month or two, she'd undoubtedly be a veteran of such emporiums of unauthorized merchandise.
"Are the goods dangerous, then?"
He smiled. "No. Only hard to come by. Especially Earth beer, salt, coffee"— he rubbed his faded indigo pants— "and blue jeans."
"I would think, since Grüma is so close to Earth, that those products would be easy to find."
"Not when the Trade Federation ships them directly from Earth to the central galaxy, bypassing the frontier. By the time the products are transported back here and offered for sale— if they ever are—
Ian spoke companionably as they walked, picking up pebbles occasionally and tossing them into the dense undergrowth lining the trail. "So. You and Quin aren't best friends yet."
She rolled her eyes. "If he could inventory and keep track of my brain cells, he would."
"The truth is, I need you, Tee, and he knows it. We've lost three pilots to alcohol. And don't forget— you were drunk when I hired you."
"I don't drink… that much." I don't drink at all, she longed to tell him. But she had a questionable past to maintain.
"Carn used to say that, too. Then he killed himself with the stuff."
Her hand flew to the wings on her chest. Likely they'd belonged to her predecessor. The thought made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. "I'm sorry," she said.
His casual shrug belied deeper feelings on the subject. "Between us, I'm sure we can think of some recreational activities that don't include alcohol."
He bent over to scoop up more pebbles. As she stared at his strong back and tight backside, outrageously wanton and explicit thoughts overtook her. When I want sex, I don't have to buy it.
"Well"— she blushed hard— "I am open to sampling new and varied methods of enjoyment."
But how new and how varied? She wasn't sure. She was a virgin, yes, but she'd received instruction in the art of lovemaking from her toddler years. As a female Vash she'd been part of discussions, done reading, heard comparisons of techniques by experienced teachers. All her questions had been answered honestly and completely, or she'd been given the appropriate literature. Her brothers, on the other hand, had accumulated actual physical experience as teenagers with the palace courtesans. They'd been taught skills designed to bring their future wives pleasure, to ultimately strengthen each of their marriages.
The foundation of society is family. Sexuality enhances spirituality, said the Treatise of Trade. It was an integral part of her culture, and her faith. Tee'ah had expected to be a virgin on her wedding day, now that the marriage was off, there was no requirement to remain untouched. Was there?
Oblivious to her speculation, Ian shrugged off his black leather outer garment and anchored it over one shoulder with his index finger. The short-sleeved shirt he wore beneath was tight enough to glimpse the flexing of his stomach muscles as he strode beside her. The end of a thin gold chain disappeared into his shirt. Otherwise, he wore no skin jewelry, which was so fashionable of late, and no other adornment. And no Vash signet ring, she noted— another sign that she wasn't keeping company with the one Earth dweller she needed to avoid at all cost. She couldn't imagine the crown prince being without the trappings of his rank.
She steered the conversation back toward safer ground. "What will we find at the marketplace?"
"Just about anything you'd want— most of it illegal as heck." He acted as if he assumed she'd seen the like before. Perhaps she hadn't yet, but in a month or two, she'd undoubtedly be a veteran of such emporiums of unauthorized merchandise.
"Are the goods dangerous, then?"
He smiled. "No. Only hard to come by. Especially Earth beer, salt, coffee"— he rubbed his faded indigo pants— "and blue jeans."
"I would think, since Grüma is so close to Earth, that those products would be easy to find."
"Not when the Trade Federation ships them directly from Earth to the central galaxy, bypassing the frontier. By the time the products are transported back here and offered for sale— if they ever are—
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