Page 8 of Romancing Rem'eb

“You fuss too much. He is simply keeping me entertained. If it becomes a problem, I will tell him to stop. That is not why I called you here, anyhow.” My father waves a beringed hand, annoyed that I point out the rules to him.

“What, then?”

He leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Kin’far the Exile enlisted Set’nef the Wanderer to assist him in his last raid at my command.”

I do not like this, either. Set’nef the Wanderer is a good male and a fine warrior, if a quiet one. He keeps to himself, and I cannot imagine he likes working with the exile.

“They pulled a female from one of the caves from above. A strange female with no fur except atop her head, and no horns to grace her brow.”

“Sounds hideous,” I remark dryly. “Kin’far the Exile is welcome to her.”

Father shakes his head. “She resonated to another male we captured.”

“Another male?”

“Yes. He was lurking near the other female and they had no choice but to steal both.”

Oh, by the ancestor spirits. It takes everything I have not to press my hands to my face in frustration. “So you stole a mutant male and two mutant females from above? Why? Do you want to start a war with them?”

The old stories from many generations ago speak of the fierce blue ones. That they killed our people with darts that could incinerate a body in a heartbeat. We lost so many of our people that we closed off our tunnels to the surface and vowed never to go atop again. Yet here Kin’far the Exile has been raiding their gardens and stealing their ugly females.

Truly, my father listens to idiots. I look over at Cas’zor, and though he strives to remain impassive, I can feel the disapproval radiating off of him. “You should take them all back, Father.”

“We have not yet decided what to do with the female and male that resonated to each other. If we return them, they will certainly give away our presence to the strangers above. But the other female I have kept aside carefully. And I have plans for her.”

Father’s expression grows crafty. Oh no.

Chapter

Four

REM’EB

“You cannot keep one of the strangers,” I protest to my father. “It is against the laws. We are to leave the blue strangers alone.”

“This one is not blue,” Bel’eb the Mighty says, and there’s a hint of glee in his tone. “I am keeping her aside. She is for you.”

He makes no sense. “What do you mean, she is for me?”

“Our line is dying,” my father continues. “You have not resonated despite passing the wall for several turns. I think perhaps there is no woman of our people for you.”

“I am barely thirty,” I protest. He makes it sound as if I am one of the elders doddering about with canes. “I am in my prime.”

“But your chest is silent and it has been many turns. I am your chief. I have decided. This female is for you. You will feed her and care for her. You and only you will go in and out of her chamber. She will see no one but Rem’eb the Fist. And she will resonate to no one but you.”

My camouflage flickers, my colors rippling as the shock of my father’s words sink in. “This is madness.”

“Our line will continue, even if I must add strange blood to it.” Father lifts his chin. “Do you not want to go and have a look at her? Your mate?”

I stare at him with growing horror. This goes against all the rules of our people, everything we stand for. Our males protect our females, at all costs. We keep them safe behind the wall, only to come out when resonance occurs. While it is awful that we must be separate, ever since the rule was enacted, no one has died of the sickness. And yet here my father drags a stranger down into the safety of our tunnels. He is risking us all by listening to Kin’far the Exile. He cannot raid against the blue strangers. He cannot steal them.

If the rebels heard of this, they would riot. My father would be overthrown. I would be exiled alongside him, and it would not be the paltry exile of Kin’far, but a far more dire one. Ours would end in death.

I will not die simply because my father wants me to resonate. I have to find this stranger and somehow get her back to the surface, back to her people, without any of the rebels finding out what my father has done.

“She is probably hungry,” Bel’eb the Mighty says, leaning back in his chair and looking rather smugly pleased with himself. “You should take her some food. I imagine she is awake by now.”

It takes all of my control not to storm over to my father’s chair and shake him like the fool he is. My color flares again, showing him my displeasure. “Where is she?” I grit out. Why does my father create messes that I must constantly handle? Why can he not leave things alone? “Tell me.”

---