Page 26 of Star Prince

Tee’ah gathered her wits. Heavens, she was behaving like a kettacat in heat. She didn’t know if it was because she was free to act on her impulses for the first time in her life, or because she had developed a yen for Earth-dwellers—Ian Stone in particular.

“This one will do.” She stared at her hand pushing a brightly colored cube across the table, as if someone else had taken control of her body and the real Tee’ah was trapped inside her, gaping at her actions with abject fascination.

Lovemaking would be the ultimate demonstration of rebellion. Once she lost her virginity, she could never go back to her family.

But simply purchasing birth blockers didn’t mean she was going to use them. Yet. “I’ll take the hairdye and soap too,” she said in a hoarse voice.

She haggled briefly and indifferently with the vendor, as bargaining was expected, but enjoyed it less than she had expected. She was still feeling too odd. Then she fished her credits out of her pocket.

Tee’ah’s self-consciousness apparently had not been lost on the vendor. The girl pulled up her sleeve, her gaze both wise and understanding. On the underside of her slender arm was a tiny skin patch. “Wear it for one menstrual cycle, then remove,” she whispered. “Nano-meds will pass through to your bloodstream and will provide protection against pregnancy for up to a year.” Smiling, she added, “For full effectiveness, you must first wait forty-eight standard hours.”

“Yes, of course.” Tee’ah snatched the shopping bag from the young woman’s hand. She whirled away from the stall and bumped into Ian, who had come up behind her sometime during the transaction.

He caught her by the shoulders to keep her from stumbling. “Find everything you need?” he asked.

Her heart pounded a drumroll of disbelief, and she forced herself to look up at him. “Actually, a bit more than I’d intended.”

He regarded her, his expression uncomprehending. She was glad he didn’t ask what she meant, because she wasn’t sure if she could explain it herself.

“But all at a marvelous price,” she said. Then she brushed past him so that he would not see the blush she feared was making its way up her neck. “Goodthing too,” she called over her shoulder. “The wages you pay me certainly don’t go very far.” At home, such brashness would certainly have been frowned upon.

Ian only laughed. He caught up to her. “Prove your worth to me, and maybe I’ll give you more.”

“I got you here to Grüma, didn’t I?”

“Beginner’s luck.”

“Bah! Talent and skill, and don’t ever forget it, Captain Stone.” She pretended to scowl at Muffin, who watched their exchange with interest. “That means you too.”

The man raised two plate-sized hands. “Any pilot who doesn’t turn me into a smoking crater wins my thankful admiration. I’d keep her happy, Captain,” he advised.

“After all,” she continued, “a happy pilot means a happy captain.”

“Does it now?” The corners of Ian’s eyes crinkled. Although his weariness was obvious, he appeared to be enjoying the banter as much as she.

The two men took most of her packages for the trek back to the ship. Once back in the woods surrounding the city, coolness washed over Tee’ah, and a deep hush thickened the air, broken only by occasional birdsong. But the path was stained with patches of bright sunlight. Days on Grüma were a third longer than Mistraal’s, creating a noon hour that seemed to last forever.

Ian buried one hand in his coat pocket as hewalked alongside her. “If what you said was true, ‘a happy pilot means a happy captain,’ then that leaves me no choice but to ensure your job satisfaction. I’m at your service, ma’am,” he said.

She remembered the one sack she hadn’t let either of the men take; it had the birth-blockers inside. What if she told this man that her job satisfaction hinged on taking him as a lover? A slow, hot flush crept up her neck. She was far from ready to admit such a thing, let alone fully accept the idea herself. But the seeds of possibility had sprouted.

A princess should be seenand not smelled.

As Tee’ah stood in front of the mirror in her quarters, her fingers submerged knuckle-deep in gooey hair, she failed to see the humor in her joke. Nor could she decide what she liked least aboutClay-roll,the muddy stains it left on her forehead and temples, or the wretched odor.

But she needed to disguise herself, a point driven home during the disturbing encounter with the cloakedVashin the market. As long as the possibility existed that she would encounter her own kind, she had to take steps to avoid recognition.

She lathered her scalp and sneezed until her eyes watered. It was difficult to believe Earth-dwellers chose to use such disagreeable products when more advanced techniques were available. Perhaps they clung to antiquated practices to preserve their culture—not unlike theVash Nadah,she thought wryly,who insisted on safeguarding their women from the outside world as if the horrific war that drove them to do so raged yesterday, instead of eleven thousand years ago.

She peered at the viewscreen on the wall. Quin would soon be finished with his repairs to the ship. Then they would eat a quick meal before the launch. As she rinsed her hair in the sink, Tee’ah hoped the dying process was complete; she had worn the substance for barely an hour.

Bracing herself, she lifted her head. Her hair stood up in tufts, dark tufts, but not at all the shade she had expected.

“Dear heaven,” she murmured. Her hair was green.

“Tee!” Push’s voice came over the ship’s comm. “If you want to eat before we launch for Barésh, you need to do it now.”

“I am coming.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Her hair was the color of the algae-topped mud puddles that collected under the vast indoor gardens at her father’s palace. And it smelled worse. Hastily she shampooed again, but the sweet-scented cleanser was no match for the tang of residual chemicals, reminiscent of rotten eggs. Nor did it alter the brownish-green tint to her hair.

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