SABINA

Her neck was killing her, her feet ached, and every inch of her was dragging. Still, she kept her smile on and maintained her center, even if she would have rather gone back to bed the second she’d waked up that morning.

Stupid, arrogant Draivarya with his stupid, handsome face. Not only had she been out far too late, which was probably his fault, but then she’d slept absolutely rottenly, and that was certainly his fault.

Because she’d dreamt of him. And not in the way she usually did, when Norcia sent her a message. No, these dreams she found herself hoping her goddess had stayed far away from and didn’t even know about, though that was a vain hope. Far too embarrassing otherwise, for a goddess to know Her priestess was having inappropriate sexual dreams about Her chosen.

That was not the relationship they were supposed to have.

Of course, the relationship they did have—dislike, bordering on hatred—wasn’t any good either.

As soon as her shift ended, she’d seek him out and apologize. She’d already decided she was going to do so, even if the idea made her feel violent. He should be apologizing to her—in a fair galaxy.

But the galaxy wasn’t, and she was the priestess. She had to be the bigger person. Metaphorically. He towered over her by more than a foot.

She shifted her feet and stretched them. Perhaps not right after her shift. Maybe she’d soak her feet first. Or all of her. It had been far too long since she’d indulged in a bath—an indulgence it was, as it cost her extra water rations to fill her tub.

But maybe it would be worth it today, to put her in a better mood and smooth out her rough edges before she sought out the man who was so like a pebble in her shoe.

She nodded once to herself. That was just what she’d do.

***

Every time Sabina took a bath, she counted her blessings for her short stature. The shower-bath combo in her apartment was relatively tiny, and she didn’t know how anyone tall could fit in the tub. As it was, she barely fit, and had to do some gymnastics to get all of her body and hair clean.

But it was worth it, and the extra water rations—getting some of her aching muscles into standing, almost-too-hot water, for any length of time was pure bliss.

Yet another reason for her to be grateful she was able to get an apartment on the station, so she wasn’t stuck in the Abbey with the other priestesses. Having a bathtub hadn’t been on her original list of reasons to move, but it would have been a good one.

Her bliss lasted too short a time before it was interrupted by the sound of the door chime, ringing throughout her apartment.

Sabina’s eyes opened and she pulled her head up, ears coming fully out of the water. Would the chime repeat?

She waited a few seconds, and, satisfied it would not, rested her head back on the tub ledge, letting the hot water swirl her hair around her.

Chime.

She snarled in frustration, then forced herself to take a deep breath. Whoever it was would go away. No one ever called on her, so it was probably just bored teenagers. She just had to breathe deep and….

Chime.

Chime.

Chime.

Sabina sat up in the tub too fast, and precious water splashed over the edge. She made fists in the water and took a deep breath, then stood—slowly—and let herself drip as much as she could before she stepped gingerly out. She wouldn’t drain it. It might still be warm by the time she dealt with whoever was at the door. Goddesses, please.

Twenty seconds later had her pushing the button to the front door, ready to put the fear of Ereshkigal into the teens still hitting her door chime button.

Instead, a tall, silver-skinned Prani man stood before her, a box in his hand and his finger hitting the chime button again.

Sabina slapped his hand away before she knew what she was doing. “Congratulations. You discovered the button works.”

And on cue, her temper had flared and her sarcasm had spilled over, taking over her interaction with him.

So much for making amends.

***

DRAIVARYA

Dark amusement threaded through him at Sabina’s sarcastic comment. Her words had a heavy, exasperated undertone he could practically hear: “and could you stop pushing MY buttons.”

Unfortunately for her, he didn’t think he could stop pushing her buttons.

But the amusement gave way to an even darker feeling of desire as he took her in.

He’d interrupted her bathing, and while he probably should have felt bad about that, he couldn’t—not when she stood before him in a thin robe, plastered to her still-wet body, the décolletage giving him a far better view than her modest priestess robes of the day before. There was a hint of ink peeking out above where the fabric of the robe crossed on her chest; a sternum tattoo, the design a mystery.

Her hair was up in a towel, but he could see some of it peeking out, a few wet tendrils hanging by her forehead. Finally, confirmation of her colour: a red as fiery as her temper.

She folded her arms in front of her, almost protectively, and he realized he was staring. He made himself look her in the face, and something in him was pleased to see she was just as mad at him as before.

No, that’s wrong. Not pleased. I’m here to make amends.

He cleared his throat. “I came to apologize.”

Her brows knit together and her lips parted in surprise, and now he was staring at her mouth and wondering if it was as soft as it looked.

For fuck’s sake. Focus.

“It’s been brought to my attention that I was rude to you, and that I need to make that right. Make amends. So I brought you this.” He thrust the box at her, and she took it, confusion dancing across her face.

“What is it?”

“A box of candied eels.”

Sabina went very still. “Candied eels.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. No one had told him this would be so hard. “It’s my apology.”

She looked up at him, then, and instead of looking confused, she seemed to be studying him.

“Have you ever apologized before?”

Draivarya bristled. Before today he would have told the truth—no, he hadn’t—and not thought anything of it. He’d never cared before.

But something in the way she asked the question made him feel too seen, like a worm under a microscope. He wanted to squirm away from her attention.

“Does it matter?” His voice was too brusque.

She looked at him for another moment, then down to the box in her hands again. A small sigh came from her, and then it turned into what sounded like a snort of laughter. Then she was laughing, and—he ducked his head to see better, to confirm—yes, she was smiling. A small one, compared to the smile she’d had yesterday, but it was a smile.

He breathed a sigh of relief. The bartender had said if he got a smile, he was in the clear.

“So. Are we okay?” He had to get a yes, so he could leave—because he didn’t want to leave, he wanted to stay, and that was unlikely to be anything other than a terrible idea.

Abruptly her laughter stopped and she looked at him, again making him feel like a creature under glass. “Not even close, S’madhara.”

“But I apologized!”

Somehow she managed to raise just one eyebrow, and the gesture made him feel that he was the shorter one. “No. You showed up and said you had to apologize, and then gave me…this.” She shook the box lightly. “Something I don’t want, can’t use, and honestly am confused as to how you even got the idea for it. That’s not an apology.”

Draivarya wanted to yell in frustration. Had the barkeep lied to him?

Something in his face obviously made her take pity on him, because a moment later she was stepping back from the door and gesturing inside her apartment.

“Come in. I’ll get you a drink and teach you how to apologize.”

He shouldn’t, he knew. He really shouldn’t take a step into her apartment—and it was too late. He stood just inside the door, heard it whoosh closed behind him, and took in the priestess’ home.

It was certainly hers. There weren’t many personal touches, but it didn’t need them—he could sense her here, the way a place took on a person’s essence once they’d lived in it for a while. The same sense of her he got whenever he reached out with his mind permeated every inch of the space he was in.

It was intoxicating, and made him want to get as close to her as possible, to see if that psychic sense of her translated to the physical, to the feel of her, or a scent. The brief brushes of her fingers against his skin yesterday had not been enough.

He joined her in the small kitchen, stepping up to the island and bracing his hands on it so he wouldn’t lose control and touch her.

Sabina slid an already-open bottle of beer across to him. He would have preferred water, as his headache from yesterday kept threatening to come back—he was beginning to think it was just this entire station causing it, not a hangover.

Her lips quirked, just a touch. “No water for you,” she said, as if she’d read his thoughts—maybe just his face. “You’ve already wasted all my extra rations by disturbing me in the middle of my bath.”

There was humour in her tone, but he felt something hot in his chest, some unpleasant emotion he couldn’t name. He hadn’t thought about that.

“So. Apologies.” She took a drink of her own bottle and leaned on the counter, arms spread wide. “You don’t apologize by giving a gift to someone. First, you need to know what you did wrong. Then you need to feel remorse for it. And then you demonstrate that to the other party.”

He set his beer down and frowned. “When do you give them the candied eels?”

“What is with you and the candied eels? Forget the eels. Eels have nothing to do with this.” She waved a hand, dismissing the box that rested scant inches away.

“It’s not eels in particular, but any gift?” He still wasn’t sure he understood.

Sabina shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Some apologies include a gesture, but that’s different from a gift. A gift should never be given as a substitute for a real apology.”

She peered at him over the top of her beer bottle, and he fidgeted and looked away.

“Still not sure I understand,” he muttered. His feeling of being in control of the

situation was rapidly dwindling the longer he spent in the priestess’ apartment, and he didn’t like it.

“Maybe a demonstration is needed, then.” Sabina set her drink down on the counter and looked up at him directly, squaring her shoulders.

“Mantr S’madhara, I’m very sorry I lost my temper with you yesterday and was so rude. Provoked or not, I shouldn’t have said those things. I hope you can forgive me, and I will try to keep a better rein on my temper in the future.”

This wasn’t right. He hadn’t come here for her to apologize to him. In fact, he didn’t want it.

But he didn’t know how to say that.

“That’s all an apology entails?” he asked instead.

“That, and real remorse. I also have a box of candied eels I could give you,” she said with a sly smile.

A chuckle tumbled out of him at that. “No, thank you. They sound disgusting.”

“They truly are.” She shuddered and gagged.

“I’m very sorry I brought them to you, then.”

“Why, I believe that was a real apology.” Her smile spread, turning into a bright grin. “Good job. I’m proud of you.”

Her tone walked the line between teasing and sincere so well he couldn’t even find it in himself to bristle. He shrugged and dropped his eyes, focusing on the beads of condensation dripping down his half-empty bottle of beer.

“I’m also sorry for how I treated you yesterday,” he said at length. “I’d mistook you for….”

“A hetaira. I know.” Her tone was so neutral it betrayed nothing, and when he reached out his extra senses to get a feel for her emotions he hit a wall. She was locked down again.

“Why didn’t you correct me?”

Again, she gave him that look that made him feel exposed and vulnerable.

“Because there’s nothing wrong with being one.”

He scoffed. “You’ll never get me to agree to that.”