Page 58 of A Delicate Conquest

For now, Mavrel decided to let him do his thing.

After all, Zharek was correct about one thing.

Mavrel owed him.

If Zharek hadn’t intervened, Mavrel wouldn’t be here right now, dressing in yet another finekashkan—a deep burgundy one this time—and preparing to travel to Earth to meet his fated mate.

Zharek’s intentions had been good, and he was so very fortunate that it had all gone smoothly.

He didn’t take any of it for granted.

Truth be told, he was even a little nervous.

What if… she changed her mind?

No.

Nother.

Bea was the kind of person who meant what she said.

She wouldn’t have asked him to come to her home if that was the case. From what Mavrel understood, being invited into a human’s private space was a very big deal indeed. It conveyed a certain amount of trust, respect, and goodwill. It meant she wanted to treat him to her hospitality.

According to human custom, if he wanted to make a good impression, he should bring a gift.

So Mavrel had taken some time out and gone shopping at the nearest galactic trading station. After much deliberation, he’d chosen a finely crafted piece of Veronian porcelain, organically shaped and ornate, an elegant vessel that could be used to contain drinks or whatever else she desired.

Nothing like it could be found on Earth.

He hoped Bea would like the design.

The Veronian seller had carefully packed it in a round and sturdy yet disintegrable container made of lightweight plant fibers.

Mavrel finished dressing and tied up his long hair. He picked up the gift and made his way toward the docking bay, where a small cruiser was waiting to transport him to Earth.

Traveling to Earth was simple enough.

Now that thekraelhad been vanquished and the human Federation had semi-officially relinquished their power of governance over the human population, trips from the Fleet Station to Earth were so commonplace it might as well be designated as one of the planet’s official outposts.

From now on, the Fleet Station would be based in Sector Nine.

The outermost ring of the Nine Galaxies might as well become the center of the Universe.

He walked up the ramp into the ship.

The hatch closed.

“You have the coordinates,” he told the pilot, Rukan, who poked his head around the corner as he heard Mavrel enter. “We should go in heavily cloaked. I don’t want to draw attention.”

“I’ll be as discreet as darkness,” Rukan gave him a conspiratorial look. “You want me to stay hanging or come back later?”

“Don’t wait around. I’ll comm you when I need a return flight.”

“Got it. I’ll find something to keep me busy in the meantime.” Rukan disappeared behind a screen of Qualum, leaving Mavrel to sink into his seat and watch the Universe outside as the ship rose into the air, navigating through the vast docking bay.

Through the airlock.

Out into the cold void of space, where he’d spent most of his life.

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