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that."
She took a breath for another sentence and pitched forward into Garoz's arms.
* * * *
Garoz caught her and lifted her while being cautious of her wings. "Has this happened before?"
The prefect looked pale and kept darting his gaze to the field. "What? Oh, no. She was tired the first time, but didn't faint."
Hardcore looked down at the female who was legally his wife, a citizen of the Alliance and a free woman. Her lips were chalky and her skin was grey. "What is in that field? It sucked the life out of her."
"It's classified. Bring her back to her room. She will be better after some rest." The hopeful tone was not lost on Garoz.
Porvin was a patriarchy. The husband had full say in his wife's activities and if Garoz put his foot down, Sylvain wouldn't have a chance to say yes or no.
If he guessed correctly about Tenario, the prefect wasn't sure that Garoz knew the rules. When Sylvain woke, they were going to have a talk. If her life was in danger from using her talent, she was going to go into retirement in less than a day.
He carried her through the town, answered the villager's questions about the health of their green queen and in that moment, he understood why Sylvain did this year after year. The looks on the faces of these people showed genuine concern for the woman, not the talent.
When he walked up the steps to her room, he checked her pulse. It was slow but steady. "Bring more water. As much as you can. She needs it to bond properly to your planet, or did no one tell you?"
Tenario swallowed. "She mentioned it, but I thought she was being difficult."
Garoz snarled, kicked the door closed behind him and he took her to the bed. The maids must have tidied up the moment that they left, the pillows were fluffed and the blankets were neat.
He carefully laid her down on her stomach and started to massage her wings. They were stronger than they first appeared. He could see metallic strands in the veining of the huge panels.
As he rubbed and stroked the wings, they swivelled in their ball joints and he slowly folded them against her back.
He grinned as he worked the wings into a column down her back. He had heard of Vorwings before, but had never seen one. The dot on the inside of her ankle had sparked a memory in him from a species he had learned of in Kozue legend.
Vorwings always bred true, but they never mixed with their own kind. The small mark just under her calf was the hidden spur that ancient Vorwings used during mating flights. The female would latch onto the male in midair and that is where mating would take place. When their frivolous attitudes blocked them from entry in the Alliance, they were turned into a slave species.
Without constant exposure to their own kind, they died out. Less than a dozen had been reported in the last nine years and he had fallen head over heels with her before he had seen more than her picture.
The woman under his hands was one of a dying race and he was here to make sure that she would not be the last of her line.
He grinned. His sister would be the hardest thing for her to adjust to in the life that he had planned. Since Gralial had lost her soul, she could no longer enjoy life, but she would be able to be a good friend to Sylvain when they would meet. First, he had to convince his Vorwing to leave the carnival, then he would arrange her introduction to his family.
Station 13 needed a plant specialist and her talent fit the bill.
* * * *
Someone was rubbing her wings carefully and with strength. She tried to mutter into the pillow, but he quickly rolled her to her side the moment she flicked one of her wings.
"Get up, Syl. Time to get you some water."
He left her while she pushed to a sitting position. "You folded my wings. No one ever knows how to fold my wings."
"I am a Kozue warrior trained in battlefield medical treatment and my sister is also a very powerful healer. She taught me a few things." His grin warmed her and the water he held was ambrosia
She took a breath for another sentence and pitched forward into Garoz's arms.
* * * *
Garoz caught her and lifted her while being cautious of her wings. "Has this happened before?"
The prefect looked pale and kept darting his gaze to the field. "What? Oh, no. She was tired the first time, but didn't faint."
Hardcore looked down at the female who was legally his wife, a citizen of the Alliance and a free woman. Her lips were chalky and her skin was grey. "What is in that field? It sucked the life out of her."
"It's classified. Bring her back to her room. She will be better after some rest." The hopeful tone was not lost on Garoz.
Porvin was a patriarchy. The husband had full say in his wife's activities and if Garoz put his foot down, Sylvain wouldn't have a chance to say yes or no.
If he guessed correctly about Tenario, the prefect wasn't sure that Garoz knew the rules. When Sylvain woke, they were going to have a talk. If her life was in danger from using her talent, she was going to go into retirement in less than a day.
He carried her through the town, answered the villager's questions about the health of their green queen and in that moment, he understood why Sylvain did this year after year. The looks on the faces of these people showed genuine concern for the woman, not the talent.
When he walked up the steps to her room, he checked her pulse. It was slow but steady. "Bring more water. As much as you can. She needs it to bond properly to your planet, or did no one tell you?"
Tenario swallowed. "She mentioned it, but I thought she was being difficult."
Garoz snarled, kicked the door closed behind him and he took her to the bed. The maids must have tidied up the moment that they left, the pillows were fluffed and the blankets were neat.
He carefully laid her down on her stomach and started to massage her wings. They were stronger than they first appeared. He could see metallic strands in the veining of the huge panels.
As he rubbed and stroked the wings, they swivelled in their ball joints and he slowly folded them against her back.
He grinned as he worked the wings into a column down her back. He had heard of Vorwings before, but had never seen one. The dot on the inside of her ankle had sparked a memory in him from a species he had learned of in Kozue legend.
Vorwings always bred true, but they never mixed with their own kind. The small mark just under her calf was the hidden spur that ancient Vorwings used during mating flights. The female would latch onto the male in midair and that is where mating would take place. When their frivolous attitudes blocked them from entry in the Alliance, they were turned into a slave species.
Without constant exposure to their own kind, they died out. Less than a dozen had been reported in the last nine years and he had fallen head over heels with her before he had seen more than her picture.
The woman under his hands was one of a dying race and he was here to make sure that she would not be the last of her line.
He grinned. His sister would be the hardest thing for her to adjust to in the life that he had planned. Since Gralial had lost her soul, she could no longer enjoy life, but she would be able to be a good friend to Sylvain when they would meet. First, he had to convince his Vorwing to leave the carnival, then he would arrange her introduction to his family.
Station 13 needed a plant specialist and her talent fit the bill.
* * * *
Someone was rubbing her wings carefully and with strength. She tried to mutter into the pillow, but he quickly rolled her to her side the moment she flicked one of her wings.
"Get up, Syl. Time to get you some water."
He left her while she pushed to a sitting position. "You folded my wings. No one ever knows how to fold my wings."
"I am a Kozue warrior trained in battlefield medical treatment and my sister is also a very powerful healer. She taught me a few things." His grin warmed her and the water he held was ambrosia
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