Always an early riser, Dizhei awoke the morning of the second day after the reception to find that Thriss, too, was up, eating breakfast before an appointment with Counselor Matthias. Oh, please let us be through the worst of it,Dizhei thought. For the first time since they’d left Andor, she felt buoyed by hope.
Her cheery mood must have hastened their pace because they arrived in the station’s hub well before Thriss’s appointment. Since she hadn’t had a chance for quality time alone with Thriss since before the arrest, Dizhei guided her away from the flow of pedestrian traffic and into a mostly deserted corridor, used primarily for service access, with the hope that they could talk.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Dizhei asked, squeezing Thriss’s hands tightly. “I can postpone my observations until later. The classrooms aren’t going anywhere.”
Thriss shook her head. “I’ll be fine. After my appointment with the counselor I’m going to do a little shopping. I saw a new variation of kal-tohon display that day we ate at the Replimat. I think Anichent would like it—he can play it solo since neither you nor I are very good at chess. And I want him to know how much I regret hurting him.”
After looking both ways in the hallway to assure that they were, indeed, alone, Dizhei sighed and leaned into her bondmate’s shoulder. “He knows, zh’yi.Despite the strife between us since we left Andor, he loves you deeply. And I think I’ve helped him see that you love him as well.”
“I do! I’m sorry you feel that you’re always caught between us. You manage your worries about Thirishar far better than we do—it becomes easy to take out our frustrations on each other, especially when Anichent’s always certain that he’s right,” Thriss said, with good humor. She leaned back against the wall. “Remember that day in sh’Dasath’s class when Anichent insisted that he knew better than sh’Dasath how to prove that theorem? Never mind that sh’Dasath had published papers on it. Anichent gets these ideas in his head…”
“I’d say between Shar, you and Anichent, it’s a miracle we find consensus on anything,” Dizhei said, taking Thriss by the hand. The feel of Thriss’s elegant fingers against her wrist soothed her worries more than words possibly could.
Suddenly Thriss turned to Dizhei, concern written on her face. “You do know that I don’t love Anichent any differently than I love you.”
“But you dolove Shar differently.”
Twisting a straying lock of hair between her fingers, Thriss blushed dark blue. “Sh’za—”
“It’s fine that you do, Shathrissía. I understand,” Dizhei reassured her. “Maybe it would be more truthful to say that I respect your feelings.” Or she hoped she did. She didn’t like what she perceived to be between Shar and Thriss because it existed outside the bond, but she tried to comprehend it because she couldn’t combat something she didn’t understand. Keeping the bond strong meant she had to work with what she’d been given, like it or not, because the bond was first. Always.
From the time she was little, Dizhei relished that she was the most rare of her species: all Andorian offspring originated from her gender. Her unique maternal role suited her own career inclinations toward taking care of and teaching children. The entire focus of who she was—of what she believed she should be—was this deeply felt longing she had to be a parent, to be a part of a bond and create a life. At an early age, she came to understand the significance of her gender identity; all her priorities, all her desires fell into line behind that role. If anything, she envied Thriss’s role as the zhavey.Their child would begin with Dizhei, but it was Thriss who would carry their offspring and give birth. Dizhei was continually astounded at how casually Thriss treated the privilege of carrying their child. What could possibly be a greater honor! Certainly not medical school or reputation. So many of their classmates had admired Thriss’ vibrant personality, her zeal for new experiences and how quick she was to question the dictates passed down by the Elders. Dizhei never found Thriss’s nonconformity as romantic as their peers did.
Since the day Thriss had been bonded to her, Dizhei had watched her zh’yi’s moods—her passions—dictate her life path. Not a commitment to principles. And for some years now, Thriss’s passions had centered on Shar; everything else was secondary. Even having a child seemed to be a means for Thriss to bind Shar closer to her instead of her life purpose.
The more she witnessed the consequences of Thriss and Shar’s decision to violate their bondgroup covenant, the more she recognized the Elders’ wisdom in establishing the boundaries of the shelthreth.Intimate acts belonged in a group context. Dizhei felt the longings, but as Thriss proved, the consequences for yielding could be dire; she refused to take the risk. Without proper guidance, Thriss might forfeit her responsibilities as zhaveyto follow Shar. Should that happen, Dizhei was prepared to do what she always had: fix whatever had broken.
Nuzzling Dizhei’s neck, Thriss sighed, bringing Dizhei back into the moment. She drew Thriss into her arms and held her close. I hope I’m wrong, zh’yi. I hope I’m wrong about many things.
“There’s nothing to understand, sh’za.I love you and Anichent the same as I love Shar,” Thriss said finally.
Dizhei pulled back, curled her hand around her bondmate’s cheek and considered the beloved and familiar face. Thriss’s words belied Dizhei’s own time-distant images of Shar, dappled in long shadows, pretending that everything was as it always was, though his darkened eyes said differently. She closed her eyes, relishing Thriss’ warmth and drawing comfort from her embrace. But as much as she might long to indulge Thriss’s romantic notions, Dizhei knew those notions threatened their greater purpose. She extracted herself from their embrace and took Thriss by both hands. “Don’t lie to me, zh’yi.”
“I don’t know what you’re—” Thriss protested, halfheartedly.
“Don’t. Lie. To. Me,” Dizhei reiterated. “We’re betrothed. I sense these things. I’ve always known. Anichent knows, too, though he doesn’t want to admit it. We both know you and Shar shared tezha.”
Thriss flinched. “We didn’t do anything wrong. We belong to each other. You and I—we could share the same.” Thriss reached up to Dizhei’s face.
Dizhei pushed Thriss’s hand away. “It was a mistake. A serious one. But it’s done.” Even as Thriss confessed, envy twisted inside Dizhei, threatening to taint her with bitterness. She would not, she could not, allow herself to become the source of conflict. I will not condone—I will not give you permission to believe that what you’ve done is acceptable when it could still destroy everything we’ve worked for.Oh, how she wanted to shake the selfishness out of Thriss! To make her understand that she didn’t have the luxury of destroying herself without destroying Dizhei, too.
Even now, all these years later, Dizhei vividly felt each moment of the first day Shar and Thriss had violated the bondgroup covenant. The panic of the night before, when Thriss and Shar had been missing, hadn’t yet subsided. Shar claimed he’d been performing research for his environmental studies class; Thriss had gone off to find him and they had spent the night away from the compound after becoming lost. Both her bondmates claimed that nothing forbidden had passed between them and Dizhei believed them. Especially Shar, who had barely contained his frustration with Thriss.
For hours, Dizhei had waited for Shar to return from his disciplinary conference, but he never appeared. She had checked with Anichent, Zhadi,and the school before discovering Thriss was gone. How long had she stood in the corridor, waiting for Thriss to come with her to dinner—the wait felt endless. When Thriss finally showed up, she had been so overcome, both physically and emotionally, that she could hardly move. Collapsed on her bed, Thriss drifted between sleep and delirious consciousness while Dizhei, numbed with jealousy, worry and fear, sat beside her, uncertain what to do next. Tell Charivretha? Tell Thriss’s zhavey?The Elders? She worried that if she did tell, it would ruin everything. That the Elders would punish Thriss and Shar, and perhaps put in jeopardy everything Dizhei lived for.