Rexei could see how that would be a good deal. Before she could say anything, however, her stomach gurgled. Alonnen smiled wryly.
“We don’t get more than one meal a day for free, but the food’s worth paying for. Let’s order a Nutty Chicken and a Creamed Salmon,” he proposed, squeezing and releasing her hand. “That way, if you don’t like the one, you can try the other. They serve a really good barley soup, too, and there’s a greenhouse on the roof so they have fresh greens to go with it. Big Momma swears by fresh greens for reinvigorating the libido in winter.”
Rexei narrowed her eyes, watching him rise and head for what she realized was a small, wire-connected talker-box by the front door. Just like that, he had gone from being labeled nearly sexless to being very male once again in her mind. “And just how would you know what Grandmaster Bertha claims about . . . you know?”
Swinging around to face her, Alonnen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. The movement ruffled the curls tied into a short tail at his nape. “You know, Longshanks, I’ve seen this in other female mages, and I can understand why so many think this way, but I was hoping you were smart enough to think past the fear. Rexei . . . there is a whole spectrum between gelded asexual male on the violet side of the rainbow, and bestial, brutal rapist on the red side.
“Most men are somewhere between yellow and blue. I’m about as green as they come—I have a libido, I have an interest in sex, and I find many women to be attractive. My brother happens to find both women and men attractive, but he’s green in hue, too,” Alonnen explained. “Neither of us are going to grab and violate any partner, but neither are we going to castrate ourselves, literally or otherwise, just to pretend our need to be touched, held, and pleasured doesn’t exist. It does.
“Your needs exist, too,” he said, pointing at her, wanting her to understand that, and that they weren’t anything worth fearing. “They might be smothered by the many problems you have seen so far, but you have every right to know what it feels like to be hugged and held, to be kissed and . . . and so forth.”
This time, he blushed, trailing off for a moment. Rexei didn’t look very feminine, but then again, a lot of women around the Heias Dam tended to downplay their femininity, simply because it meant less hassle for them in the public areas whenever the priests came by to collect mandatory tithes and such. But there was something about her that . . . Sighing, he dragged his mind firmly back into safe territory.
“Unfortunately, this conversation is heading in a direction I don’t believe you’re ready to discuss in a calm state of mind,” Alonnen said. “I do think you are cute as a button and as smart as a piston engine, but unless and until you should feel the same, whether it’s with me or with anyone else, that’s as far as it should go. I will repeat that you’re as safe in my company as if . . . as if one of us were a pet dog, worthy of a few pats and a cuddle-hug and some positive attention, but that’s it. And if you fear anything more than that, just say so. As it is, as soon as Gabria gets free of the Consulate and comes over, she’ll swap places with me, and I’ll share a room with one of the other lads.”
Turning back to the door, he moved up to the talker-box and began turning the crank-handle to charge it.
Rexei watched him place their dinner order, face warm and mind racing over his words. She could not remember the last time she had been complimented by someone who knew she was female. A couple of times her gender had been uncovered, but the comments made during those moments of discovery had been insults, not compliments. Multiple times someone had complimented her as a male . . . but some of those had been just as awful in their own way. The rest of the time, she had ignored the good ones, since underneath her attitude and her disguises, she was still very much a female at the end of each day.
And here I am in a brothel with . . . with the first man I’ve been interested in, as a man, woman to man, since . . .
A knock on the door startled both of them. Caught in the act of hanging up the cone-shaped earpiece that allowed a talker-box operator to hear what the person on the other end was saying, Alonnen fumbled it onto its hook, then glanced at her. He opened his mouth to say something, then the rhythmic rapping was repeated. Relaxing, he nodded.
“I didn’t catch the pattern the first time. That’ll be Gabria.” A step to the right allowed him to grasp the doorknob and pull the solid panel open. The blonde woman smiled at him, opened her mouth to speak . . . and her gaze drifted to Rexei beyond his shoulder. She froze, eyes widening in fear.
It was the first time anyone had looked at Rexei in fear, and Rexei didn’t know what to make of it.
“Is something wrong?” Alonnen asked his assistant. He glanced over his shoulder at Rexei and the rest of the room, but he couldn’t find anything alarming in it. Looking back, he watched as Gabria shrunk in on herself, huddling in her knit tunic. “What’s wrong?”
Swallowing, Gabria looked down the hall, as if she’d rather be anywhere else.
He stepped back from the door, giving her room to enter, guessing that she didn’t want to talk about it in public. “Come inside.”
That only made her eyes widen further. She shook her head and moved back. “Uh . . . I’ll . . . just go find another room . . .”
Frowning, Alonnen stepped into the hall, letting the door almost close behind him. Mindful of the potential for eavesdroppers, he spoke under his breath. “Gabria, what’s wrong? You’re acting like you’re afraid of Longshanks. You’re supposed to be sharing this room with her tonight.”
“She . . . she’s with one of them,” Gabria hissed, eyes still wide and wary.
On the other side of the door, inside the room, Rexei ghosted up to the panel as quietly as she could. She had seen the other woman’s fearful stare and wanted to know why she was upset.
“What do you mean, one of them?” Alonnen asked.
“A God,” Gabria hissed, shuddering inside her coat. “I can’t even think about . . . about Him, and you want me to . . . to spend the night in a room with her?”
“Gabria . . .”
“No! I’m going to Marta’s,” his part-time assistant asserted. “I’ll spend the night with her. Where I’ll be safe!”
Movement by the stairwell resolved itself into the faces of two familiar men. Alonnen lifted his chin in brief greeting, but he kept most of his attention on the woman in front of him. “Gabria, Guildra isn’t the same as Mekha.”
“You don’t know that. And frankly, I don’t want to know. I’m going to Marta’s, and that’s that.”
“Then at least let me and Ohso walk you there,” Alonnen compromised, meaning one of the other men who had accompanied them to town. Hearing his name, the fellow raised his brows and headed their way.
“I don’t need a keeper,” Gabria retorted, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s not that far to her tenement on the west side of town, and once I get there, her building is . . . you know. I’m not a sheep, needing to be shepherded every step of the way.”
“I know you’re not, but if you slip and fall in the snow, you could lie there all night with a broken leg, and nobody would know,” he countered. “I’ll not have you die of exposure. And he and I can keep an eye on each other on the way back.”