Fallon’s colouring was different from Silar’s as well. He had a warm, deep, sunset-orange hue to his hide, and his long shimmery hair was a gorgeous gold-tinged white, the kind of colour that women spent hours frying their ends off to achieve. I’d even tried to get my strands that shade once myself as a teen, but I’d only ended up with hair even brighter orange than Fallon’s skin tone. Where Silar’s eyes were a deep blue with electric veins of aqua, Fallon’s were a rich dark brown, the branching bits a little lighter, like the colour of astronomically expensive Terratribe II maple syrup. Everything about him screamed warmth.

There was one thing he and my husband did have in common, though.

“So,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “I see that you and Silar both subscribe to the Doctrine of Eternal Shirtlessness.”

Fallon’s smile vanished, a fiercely thoughtful look coming over his features. His pale blond brows furrowed over his eyes.

“The Doctrine of Eternal… That last part did not translate. I do not think I read about this in the book.” He leaned forward in earnest. “Please tell me if this is a belief system my future wife adheres to. I would like to honour it.”

“Oh. No, I…”

God. It was like kicking a puppy. Not that I’d ever had a puppy on Terratribe I. But I’d seen pictures. And I had to imagine that kicking one would feel the exact same as telling Fallon I was kind of fucking with him.

“You know what?” I said as gently as I could. “You’re already honouring it just fine. Since you’re all bare-chested and whatnot. Shirtlessness just means being without a shirt.”

He gave a relieved sigh. “Good.” He paused, then gave me an astounded look. “Does this mean my wife also will not wear a shirt?”

Good job Cherry.

“She will definitely wear a shirt. The no shirt thing only applies to, erm, males. Like that whole tail around the neck greeting you were so kind to explain to me before.”

He looked bashfully down at the table, like he was guilty for the lie.

Seriously. Puppy. Foot. Face.

To break the awkward silence that had descended, I cleared my throat and asked, “So! Fallon. Who is your wife? What’s her name?” I remembered Magnolia and Darcy receiving their husband name cards when I did, but I couldn’t remember who got whom.

Fallon’s smile instantly returned.

“Her name is Dar-chee.”

“You mean Darcy?”

“Ah! Is that how you say it? Yes. Darcy.” He rolled the sounds around his mouth experimentally, then grinned. “I love the sound of it.”

“Yes. Sounds a little less…Um… Starchy.”

“Tell me,” Fallon said, his eyes suddenly blazing white. “Have you met her? What is she like?”

“She’s…”

Darcy wasn’t actually who I would have pictured for him, to be honest. With her gentle nature and sweet optimism, I actually thought Magnolia might make a better match for a friendly guy like Fallon.

“She’s… a bit quiet,” I improvised, remembering Darcy’s downright frosty demeanour. “Reserved.”

“She sounds very elegant,” Fallon said dreamily, and I let out a sigh that he seemed happy with my description of her.

“She’s taller for a human woman. With pink hair, green eyes, and freckles. She’s absolutely gorgeous,” I added, remembering Fallon’s earlier comment about her being half as beautiful as me. I gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Definitely prettier than me.”

Fallon looked like I’d just about blown his Zabrian mind. It was kind of fun seeing how absolutely banana-pants excited he was getting. So fun I almost missed Silar’s quiet, incredulous growl of, “Unlikely.”

A hot thrill caught low in my belly.

Silar thought it was unlikely that someone could be prettier than me? Seriously? I mean, I was alright. Could definitely qualify as a very solid “cute” when I made some effort. But he honestly thought, on a balance of probabilities, that I was prettier than… Everyone? Ever?

I mean the man hadn’t seen another female in the lord knew how long and there was certainly no accounting for taste, but…

I kind of fucking loved it.

“I think it is time you be leaving,” Silar said flatly to Fallon, his patience with this chat apparently running out. “Go check on your herd after everything that’s happened.”

“Sora is out there with them,” Fallon said. “And they already trampled the genka that broke through the fence and started the stampede. If there is any trouble, I will hear Sora’s barking.”

“She’s barking.”

Fallon and I both stopped to listen. Not a single bark to be heard.

“Are you quite well?” Fallon inquired, sounding genuinely concerned as Silar hauled him up and out of the chair. Kind of a bold question, considering Fallon was the one who’d almost ended up with a crushed windpipe today, not Silar.

In his usual fashion, Silar ignored the question, pushing the other man towards the door.

“I was not finished speaking to your wife!” Fallon whined as I stood up and hastened after them. “I was going to ask her more questions about Darcy!”

“It’s OK!” I said from behind Silar’s broad back as he marched Fallon towards the back door. I pulled my comms tablet from my pocket, the thing miraculously unscathed from my fall and frantic shuldu ride earlier. “Give me your information. You can call me on your-”

“No, you can’t,” Silar cut in.

“Hey! I’m allowed to talk to other people, you know!” I huffed at my husband.

“You can do whatever you want,” Silar acknowledged. “But he can’t.”

There didn’t seem to be any slowing or stopping Silar’s forward momentum. Suddenly exhausted by this entire day, I gave up on following them and let Silar shove Fallon all the way out of our house. Fallon gave me a harried-sounding shout of “Goodbye!” as Silar dragged him towards the shuldu stalls where they were soon out of sight.

23SILAR

“Icannot wait,” Fallon said from atop his shuldu on the road in front of my house, “to tell Zohro how beautiful the human females are.” A manic white gleam entered Fallon’s eyes. “He is going to eat his own hat.”

Speaking of hats…

I bent down to pick up a completely flattened, dusty, torn-up disc that had once been the hat Cherry was wearing earlier. This could have been her body…

My fingers contracted involuntarily, crushing the garment further.

“And to think,” Fallon went on, oblivious as he so often was, “that Cherry said Darcy is even prettier than she is!”

“She isn’t.”

Fallon ignored that.

“Do you know what freckles are?”

“No,” I grunted. “Stop asking me questions before I push you off your saddle.”

I needed him gone. Now. So I could be alone with Cherry and maybe do that hug thing again. Uninterrupted this time.

Sora had joined us, running circles around Fallon’s mount, clearly eager to begin herding the bracku back to their ranch.

“Alright. I will go now. But Silar, let me just say that-”

Before he could finish his sentence I had already re-entered the house and closed the door behind me.

Cherry was still in the kitchen, seated in the chair I’d made for her. Her eyes fell to my hand.

“Oh!” she said, jumping up. “Is that… Oh no. Is that your hat?”

“No. This is your hat. Or it was, anyway. I’m still wearing my hat.”

“No. I mean… It was yours from when you were a kid. Oh, no. Just look at it now.” Her eyes grew very wet and shiny, and I jolted, realizing more of her human teerz were about to spill out.

Teerz. Over a hat.

In a Zabrian, I would have considered such a show of emotion a horrific sign of weakness.

In her…

It was a sign of something precious to me. Purity. Goodness. A heart that seemed far too big to be housed in such a little human body.

“It’s just a hat,” I told her, casting a critical eye over the thing. It was thoroughly wrecked. There would be no fixing it. I tossed it into the fire. “Better it than you.”