“It isn’t annulled. And you’re not crazy.”
“Damaged, then.”
“Nothing is wrong with you.”
Vyrl opened his eyes. “Don’t look at me with blinders, Kamoj. Just because I haven’t had a drink in a few days doesn’t mean I no longer have a problem. It will be with me for the rest of my life even if I never take a drink again.”
“Everyone has problems.” She brushed her fingers over his cheek. “Yours are on the outside. Under them, you’re a good person. Jax looks good outside, but underneath he’s cruel. You’re trying to solve your problems and he doesn’t think he has any. He’s the one who is damaged, Vyrl. Not you.”
Pressing his lips against her hair, he murmured in a voice so soft, she almost didn’t hear him. It took her a moment to realize he had said thank you, not in words but in her mind. Oddly enough, it felt natural, not alarming at all.
Aloud, all he said was, “I filled out the forms to alter my visa.”
“Visa?”
“Permission to let me live on Balumil. Right now it’s a technicality, since I’m in ISC custody. But eventually I will need documents for permanent residence here.”
Kamoj stared at him, afraid to hope, afraid she had misheard. “You will live here? Always?”
His face gentled. “Yes. Of course.”
“I thought General Ashman wouldn’t let you stay.”
“I do have to leave soon, for a while.” He shifted her in his arms. “ISC is planning a mission to take my home world of Lyshriol from Earth’s forces. They need me to pull it off, not only because I know Lyshriol, but also because the Lyshrioli people will follow me.” Tightly he added, “But ISC can’t hold me for the rest of my life, controlling where I go and what I do. I will come back, Kamoj. Soon.”
She made herself ask, “What about your family? Your farm. Your children. Their children.” And on down the generations that called him patriarch. “Your life.”
He kissed her forehead. “I’ve already lived that life. Argali needs you, its governor, but my children are all grown.”
“Hai, Vyrl.” She hugged him, unable to find words to express her appreciation for the gift he had given her. Despite his attempt at nonchalance, she felt the depth of the love he shared with his family and knew how much he would miss them.
Vyrl sighed, holding her close. She turned her head up for his kiss, but he only brushed his lips over her hair. She hesitated, unsure now. Did he no longer want her because of what had happened with Ironbridge? Or because she didn’t feel ready yet to be a wife to him? It unsettled her how much she needed to believe he would still want her when her emotions had healed.
He kissed her forehead. “Of course I do.” Awkwardly he said, “You are just so young.”
Dryly she said, “You, who married at fourteen, think I’m young?” She touched his cheek. “I’ve no interest in how your legal people count time. I neither think nor love like a child.”
Softly he said, “And can you?”
“Can I?”
“Love. Me.”
“Hai, Vyrl.” Raising his hands to her lips, she kissed his knuckles. “Always.”
His smile gentled his face. “I too, water sprite. Always.”
For a while she lay in his arms. Then she asked, “Your people take longer to grow up, yes?”
He nodded. “Apparently your bodies pass through childhood faster than ours do. Your brains establish neural connections at a quicker rate, so your minds mature faster.”
She could tell he was leaving out something. “But?”
He spoke quietly. “You lose a child’s mental flexibility and learning capacity sooner. It limits your intellectual development. Which was probably the intent. It’s why your people have so much trouble with education, why you struggle with complex concepts, and why you had trouble maintaining a more advanced civilization here.”
Disappointment flooded her. “You mean I can never learn to read?”
His voice gentled, “Kamoj, I think you could learn anything you set your mind to.”
“I hope so.” She laid her head against his and closed her eyes. Thunder rumbled again, more distant now, less threatening…
She awoke alone in the dark. Then she heard a splash in the bath chamber. Going to investigate, she found Vyrl swimming laps in the pool. Moonlight poured through the stained glass window, filling the room with ghostly gem colors. The radiance reflected off the water and made patterns on the tiled walls.
Kamoj was struck again by his athletic grace. She recalled his question: it is accepted for men to dance here? And Dazza had referred to his “artistic temperament.” Watching him, it finally made sense. Of course. Vyrl liked to dance. She had no doubt he did it well. Yet for whatever reason, it wasn’t accepted for men where he came from. Such a simple matter, but it was something she could offer in return for his leaving his home to live on Balumil. Here he could dance if he wanted.
She imagined him at the harvest festivals, swinging her around in the central square of the village, or in the Dance of The Skylions, surrounded by the rest of Argali’s people, everyone whirling beneath the aurora borealis. No more cowl and cloak, no more metal mask. Perhaps he would always have to wear a shimmer that sheathed his body, but once her people knew him, knew the good man beneath it all, they could accept his differences.
As Kamoj knelt by the pool, Vyrl swam over to her.
“We have skylions in the mountains,” she told him. With a grin, she added, “I’ve heard it said they don’t like getting wet,” and gave him a hearty splash.
He caught her hand. “Ah, but nothing is so beautiful as a rose covered with dew.” Then he yanked her into the pool.
She thrashed to the surface, spluttering. “Hai!”
He grinned. “I get clumsy sometimes.”
“Clumsy, hah!” She splashed him again, then took off like an ottermock, arrowing under his body as she blew bubbles at him.
They played in the pool for a while. Then they held each other as they drifted around the fountain, passing in and out of the moonlight. When they nudged against the stairs, they settled on a step, their bodies submerged in the water.
So they sat in each other’s arms, their healing begun.