The Taming: Book 3 in the Tribe Warrior Series by Imogen Keeper (romantic novels in english TXT) 📕

them, didn’t he? Poor bastard. I’ve just got you, and it’s a full-time job.”

She absolutely hated how much that hurt. He barely saw her except for at dinner. She refused to rise to the bait though. If she pushed, he’d only push back harder. “Please.”

Evidently, he found whatever he was looking for, because he slammed the door shut, and rose with a comm in his hand, which he held out toward her. “Look, I’ll take you in myself, with a household guard, and every fucking felana you want in a few hours. I have to get out to the farms now. I don’t have time for this. Bu—”

He was going to brush her off again. He thought it was all about the clothes. But it wasn’t. This was the first thing she’d asked from him since they’d come, the first time she’d hoped he’d be on her side. And instead he was busy, always busy.

“Don’t bother with any more of your lies.” She turned over her heel and left the room.

28

Migane, indeed.

THE FELANAS, apparently, had access to a collection of personal hovers. Klym found the group of them gathered around them in front of the cassia. Three women with dark hair, shining around their shoulders, boldly colored pants and tops, glittering like tropical flowers.

Staria waved when she saw her. “Are you ready?”

Klym shook her head. “He said no.”

Staria laughed, her nose wrinkling. “Why?

Klym shrugged. “He says it isn’t safe.”

One of the other felanas—Klym was struggling to keep track of all their names—she thought this one was Sylese, came up, with her button-round eyes and pointy chin. “At the tailor’s? What is he afraid of? You’ll be stuck by a stray pin?”

Even Monna, who had avoided Klym since the first night at the banquet, tilted her head back and laughed, her curly hair blowing in the wind. “He’s got it bad for you? What is your secret?”

“Secret?”

“Well, we know you don’t le—”

Staria elbowed her and she broke off. “Do you want us to pick something out for you?”

Sylese made a rude noise. “Don’t trust Staria—she has horrible taste in clothes. She’ll have you dressed drag as a servant.”

“I do not have bad taste! It’s just that you always want to look like a cake.”

“You always insist on wearing yellow. It’s horrible with your complexion.”

While they carried on their argument, Monna, the previous selissa, touched Klym’s elbow. “Do you want me to talk to him? Dillan wasn’t nearly so possessive.”

Klym wrung her hands together. If it were just possession making Tor behave this way, she’d be more understanding, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t possession at all. He just didn’t want to be bothered with her. He hadn’t even listened to understand why it mattered. It wasn’t about clothes. It was about these women accepting her.

She shook her head. “Did Dillan really let you go in alone?”

Monna nodded. “Yes, but admittedly, the city was safer then. There’s been some unrest lately. It’s rare, but…”

Klym blew out a breath and shook her head.

Staria and Sylese finished their argument and with sympathetic noises at Klym, climbed into the hover. Just before they shut the door, Staria raised one of her black brows. “Are you sure? Last chance?”

Klym stared at her. It was so unfair, watching them go. It reminded her of the Institute all over again. How she and Malina snuck out, and nothing bad happened until they came back. Tor had no right to lock her up. He’d said so himself that she wasn’t a prisoner here.

Before she could give herself a minute to change her mind, she climbed in. Her hands shook. Maybe he’d spank her later. Fine. It would be worth it, to feel for a moment as if she belonged with these bright, laughing women. “Y-y-you can fly one of these?”

Staria gave her a strange look. “A hover? A little one like this? Of course.”

Klym frowned, watching with interest as Staria touched a clear screen and the hover buzzed to life. Tor had said she should do whatever she wanted, but he’d also told her not to trust anyone and not to leave without permission. She studied Staria, her slim shoulders, her long nose, and her deft hands on the controls. Maybe he meant she shouldn’t leave Vesta, not just the Roq?

“Do the women of Argentus not know how to fly?” asked Monna, her eyes wide.

Klym buckled her harness. “They used to. I know my mother did. But, after the sickness, they wanted to keep the remaining women safe, so... I was never taught. I don’t think it’s a rule or anything.” She’d never considered asking. She would now. Whether she ended up on Argentus or Vesta, she wanted to fly one of these things.

Staria cocked her head, her fingers moving over the clear panel of the control system. The hover lifted smoothly. “Watch me. I’ll let you fly home. It’s not hard.”

She pointed out the controls as she flew, and Klym watched with interest, listening to the other ladies’ happy chatter. “Is it safe in the city? Should we tell anyone where we are going?”

“Kiava knows,” said Sylese.

“I’d worry less about the city and more about what the regio is going to do to you when we get back,” Monna said, laughing. “I never dared disobey a direct order.”

“Did he spank you?”

Silence reigned in the car for a long moment, and Klym worried she’d said something terribly rude.

Then Staria burst out laughing, and Sylese and Monna joined.

“Oh, Vaniiya. The first time I was so scared.” Staria was the first to answer coherently.

“He had those huge hands, right?” said Monna. “I figured I wouldn’t sit for a week, but it was like being stroked by a baby.”

“I hated being spanked, even if he was too gentle to make it hurt much. Made me feel like a child,” said Sylese.

“That was the point though, right?” Monna sent a knowing glance at Klym. “I don’t think you can expect the new regio to be as soft hearted as his brother was.”

“No,”