“Even if she were in need of sanctuary,” Ar’ar said sharply, “you do not have the authority to grant it.”
“But his father does, doesn’t he? So let me ask him myself.” Summer put her hands on her hips. “Unless me speaking to outsiders is a problem for you, Ar’ar? Unless you have something to hide?”
“I do not know why you thought you had need to flee me, my mate. I do not understand your anger. Tell me what distresses you when we have returned to the safety of our enclosure,” Ar’ar said, reaching for her. “I vow I will set it right.”
Summer stepped back quickly, her gaze narrowed at Ar’ar. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Ar’ar’s glance flicked to Ke’lar. “I think our enemy has poisoned your mind to me, my mate.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t need to, would he? So are you going to let me speak to the Erah clanfather? Or are you going to drag me out of here kicking and screaming and show everybody what a good mate you are?”
Their little show had drawn quite a crowd of Erah clanbrothers, grumbling among themselves about how this female was being treated, something that Ar’ar and his father couldn’t help but notice. There were even a couple of richly dressed female g’hir in the crowd. One, a young woman with the Erah black hair and blue eyes, seemed riveted by the exchange but the woman beside her, a little older, a blonde, had a look of haughty disdain to her, as if these goings-on were beneath her notice.
“My father would be pleased to speak with your mate,” Ra’kur offered. “Since she has requested it.”
Ar’ar’s jaw tightened. “And since your father has not troubled himself to step outside,” he pointed out with a caustic look at Ra’kur, “he makes it necessary that my mate enter the clanhall in order to speak with him.”
“My apologies.” Ra’kur spread his hands. “Our father is elderly.”
“But wily as ever,” Mirak muttered.
“Are you going let me speak to their clanfather?” Summer demanded. “Or are you afraid to?”
Ar’ar’s rippled brow furrowed. “I do not fear—”
“Summer of the Betari,” Ke’lar broke in, formally indicating the entrance, “in our clanfather’s name, we bid you welcome to our hall.”
“Hey, since you asked, yes,” Summer trilled loudly, already striding past Ar’ar and his father, “I’d love to come in, thanks!”
The entrance to the Erah clanhall was brighter, simpler, less ornate than the Betari’s, but lovely too and probably just as ancient.
“This way, please,” Ra’kur said, leading them into the dining hall.
An elderly g’hir seated there stood as they entered.
“A pity you were not up to joining us outside,” Mirak commented. “Feeling rested now, Rotin?”
“Yes, thank you,” the clanfather of the Erah said smoothly. His glowing, pale blue eyes turned to Summer. “And who is this?”
“As if you did not know,” Ar’ar grumbled.
“I’m Summer Mills and I am, uh”—she inclined her head like the g’hir did, trying to sound formal and respectful—“seeking sanctuary in your hall.”
“For what reason?” Rotin asked.
“Well—” She really hadn’t expected to have to give an explanation. She’d just thought she’d ask and he’d grant it. “I’m human—well, obviously—” she said in response to his faint smile. “I was kidnapped—uh, captured, from my world but I don’t want to remain on Hir. I want to go back to Earth.” She took a deep breath. “Right now.”
“I see,” Rotin said gravely. “Is this your Day of Choosing?”
“My—?” Summer’s stomach clenched. “No, that’s not for another eighteen days.”
Rotin glanced at Ar’ar. “Has your mate mistreated you?”
Summer threw her hands out in frustration. “He kidnapped me!”
“To hunt—to capture—a mate is our way.”
“I know that! But he took me from my—” Summer caught herself. “From my world. Without my permission and he refuses to let me return.”
“Until your day of choosing,” Rotin pointed out. “This is by Hir law.”
“I shouldn’t have to wait!” Summer insisted, fury making her voice rise. “I’ve made my decision—I want to go back to Earth!”
“You have that right,” the clanfather agreed. “When the moon’s cycle is complete.”
Summer gritted her teeth. What was it with these people? Did they honestly think a few days was going to make any difference? “He kept me prisoner at the Betari enclosure.”
“Prisoner!” Ar’ar’s amber eyes widened. “It is your home!”
“No, it’s not! Aren’t you fucking listening?” Summer cried. “I want to go home—and home is Earth!”
“I am listening,” Rotin said with such patient dignity that Summer felt her face flush in embarrassment. “You have asked for sanctuary in my clanhall, Mata,” he reminded, using the g’hir way of addressing an honored female. “This is a very serious matter. One I must consider carefully to ascertain if there is cause to grant it.”