I tried to silence my nerves as I followed Erastra into their dwelling. Unlike Krada, the Tulma village wasn’t enclosed by a mountain, but surrounded by water. We crossed a wide bridge to the diamond-shaped island. Most of the residences were waterfront properties. Built mainly of stone and wood, they all possessed immense reflective windows that prevented people outside from spying on the residents within.
As with Szaro’s home, his father’s dwelling clearly established his status in the Tulma tribe. It was massive and highly ornate on the outside. Delicate patterns had been carved in bas-relief on both the stone and wood shaping the building. I’d seen similar carvings in Krada. But there, like here, not many dwellings had them. Life companions didn’t sculpt their façade, only bonded mates. The extent and complexity of the decorations revealed how long a married couple had occupied the house. It was the male’s homage to his wife. For each year of their union, each birth of a child, and any great event related to their family, more sculpting went up on the wall.
I knew Szaro wanted to start sculpting the façade of his cave in Krada. According to Salha, my first meeting with Szaro by the border, then me rescuing her and Eicu would be the first things going up in a stylized fashion. But before I could dwell on how I felt about it, Erastra opened the door to the house and ushered me in. My jaw dropped at the beauty that greeted me inside.
As I’d come to expect in an Ordosian dwelling, ‘comfort’ furniture was scarce. No couches, chairs, or cushiony surfaces, nothing that would traditionally translate as a living room or dining room. And yet, the large room we entered into qualified as both. On one side, a massive table with exquisitely sculpted edges and legs sat in front of a series of shelves that were just as ornate. Some boxes that looked like board games were shelved there. On the other side, a number of circular heating plates surrounded a low table in a half-circle. And a wall-mounted giant screen hung in front of them.
But what held my attention were the immense statues of an Ordosian female at each end of the room, each one framed by massive windows. They acted almost like a column, their hoods touching the ceiling as their beautiful faces looked down into the room, and only the tips of their tails touching the floor. Arms spread wide, they held the ribbons the females had danced with during our wedding. In this sculpted version, the ribbons ran along the ceiling like crown moldings.
Speechless, I followed Erastra as she took me to Szaro’s old room. That, too, stunned me. Where his room in his own dwelling had been completely bare, the walls of this one were decorated with weapons, bones, scales, and dried plants or branches, each of them linked by a pattern carved on the wall. It took me less than a second to realize this was his journey as a hunter—from the child-sized wooden practice bow, to the fearsome skull of a creature I’d never seen before.
“As is his duty, Leshu records the history of each of our offspring,” Erastra said proudly as she gazed at the wall. She went to the last object at the end of the sculpted thread. It looked like the head of a spear made of stone. “My mate made this to mark the day Szaro became the Great Hunter of Krada—the rock mountain village. Leshu is eager to prolong the thread. But since Szaro refuses to sire an offspring with a life companion, the next addition to this wall will likely be to mark his bonding.”
The uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at me since I first entered the village, which had intensified the moment I met Szaro’s parents, only went up another notch.
“If he’s so eager, why hasn’t he started yet?” I challenged.
Erastra turned to face me, a hard glimmer in her golden eyes as she stared at me defiantly. “Because there’s nothing to add. Szaro isn’t bonded.”
A part of me had known this was coming, but it still felt like a slap in the face. I clenched my teeth and took a deep breath to keep my cool. I held her gaze unwaveringly, refusing to be bullied.
“You really don’t like me much, do you?” I said in a clipped tone.
“I do not dislike you,” Erastra refuted, in a casual tone. “Or rather, I no longer dislike you since meeting you. But I have yet to decide if I like you.”
“You don’t dislike me? Yet you and everyone else in the village looked at me with contempt the minute we arrived. And now you insult Szaro and me by dismissing our bond like it doesn’t exist?” I snapped.
“Because it doesn’t!” she hissed, before advancing towards me. It felt menacing, but she remained at a respectable distance, although I’d be unable to escape if she decided to attack.
“It sure as hell does!” I said, keeping my voice barely below a shout. “Szaro and I were married twice. First according to human laws, and then through an elaborate Ordosian ritual. We were bound before all of Krada and your Goddess.”
“Szaro bound himself to you. You did not bind to him !” Erastra shouted, anger twisting her pretty features.
I recoiled, utterly confused. I replayed the ceremony in my head, trying to figure out what I had failed to accomplish.
“What… what do you mean? I did everything that I was told to do. I stood in the middle of the circle, Szaro and I embraced each other, the females danced around us, then the Elders made that circle, and we kissed. What more was I supposed to do?”
“Szaro danced for you. Did you dance for him?”
I shook my head, frowning. “No. Salha danced in my stead since I didn’t know the choreography.”
“Salha is not his mate! She cannot bind him,” Erastra grumbled. “Why would you let another female perform the most important act of your life?”
“Look, you need to get the hell off my back,” I snapped, starting to lose patience. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Ordosian.” I gestured at myself. “I don’t know your goddamn rituals because they are not documented anywhere. I was told to go to the circle, sit my ass down, and wait until someone gave me more instructions. I didn’t even know there was supposed to be any kind of freaking dancing involved. If it was so damn important, then someone should have told me. Don’t give me shit because I can’t read minds!”
I inhaled deeply and slowly breathed out, closing my eyes to try and regain control. As much as venting my frustration had been liberating, I felt horrible for raising my voice at Szaro’s mom. Whatever our current issues, she was my mother-in-law. To my surprise, instead of escalating things, my outburst seemed to dampen some of Erastra’s anger. She pursed her lips and gave me an assessing look before nodding stiffly.
“You make a valid point,” Erastra conceded. “And Elder Krathi will hear of my wrath for allowing this humiliation to befall my son. You were already in the village. They could have delayed the ceremony by a few days to allow you to learn how to handle the bands so that the bond could be done properly. The choreography doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“Hold on! Back up! What do you mean this humiliation ?” I demanded.
Erastra looked at me. This time, anger gave way to pain and shame. “The fact that you didn’t dance for him told the whole world that you are willing to take advantage of all the benefits of having a bonded mate, but that you are not ready to reciprocate because you do not deem him worthy of you.”
Shocked, I covered my mouth with my hand while staring at her in disbelief.
“My son was the most sought-after male here and in every village he’s visited. But no female ever met his approval,” Erastra said in a voice filled with pain. “And now the word is spreading that he chose an off-worlder only to be the one found lacking. He’s become a mockery.”
“That’s bullshit!” I hissed. “If they knew people would react that way, why the hell did Elder Krathi—and Szaro for that matter—allow it?”
“Because Krada prides itself on being ‘progressive’ in its ways and adaptive to ever changing situations,” Erastra said with irritation while waving a dismissive hand. “That is why most of the interactions with your Federation have been handled through them. But they forget they do not live in isolation. The other tribes still observe the old ways, and things that happen have consequences.”
“Okay, fine. But crying over spilled milk isn’t going to change anything,” I said, pissed beyond words that anyone would mock Szaro, and especially not over a miscommunication. I wanted to go out and shoot one of my bolts in the tail of any asshole who looked at my man the wrong way. “How do we fix this?”
“You must dance for him,” Erastra said forcefully.
“All right. Let’s do it,” I said.
Erastra recoiled, and her eyes widened in shock. “You… you will do it?”
“Of course!” I replied as if it was self-evident—because it was. “Why would you even doubt that? Szaro saved my life and has been nothing but wonderful to me from day one. I will not be the reason anyone humiliates him. He does not deserve this.”
Her face softened, and her eyes brimmed with gratitude. “You have affection for him,” she said with a sliver of surprise in her voice.
My face heated. “He’s a good man. Well, a good male.”
“Thank you, daughter,” Erastra replied. “We are very proud of him.”
Her acknowledging me as a daughter moved me deeply. I wasn’t very close to my mother, but I still loved and missed her.
“So, what do we do now? Can you teach me the choreography?” I asked shyly.
“The choreography isn’t important,” Erastra said dismissively. “The bands are what matter. You can dance however you want. Anyway, your anatomy isn’t suited for our choreographies. How you move the bands is what counts. For that, too, there is no specific shape or pattern to create. It’s just the complexity that marks the extent of your commitment to the bond, and the fluidity that expresses the happiness and success of your union. You are the bond that ties your family unit. The bands are but an extension of you. Come, I will show you.”
We went back to the living area where she reached for an ornate wooden book on a shelf. It contained the neatly folded pair of ribbons she called bands. She picked one up and handed it to me.
“These are my bonding bands,” Erastra said in a wistful voice. “You can train with them while we get a pair especially made for you. It will only take a few hours, so they will be ready in time for you to perform the dance tomorrow.”
I frowned at the weight of the single band she had given me. “This is heavy,” I said with worry. It weighed at least 10 pounds. “I will not be able to dance more than a few seconds while swirling the band around with this weight on each arm. I will tire too quickly.”
Erastra’s jaw dropped. She stared at my arms for a moment, as if she could see my muscles through my hunting suit, then looked back at my face, her mind racing.
“The fabric the bands are made of is actually quite light. The seamstress applies a substance onto it to make it heavier, and for it to not fold in on itself,” Erastra said pensively. “We can ask her to make yours lighter, but it might impede your ability to make them work as intended.”
I chewed my bottom lip.
“There might be an alternative,” I said cautiously. Erastra tilted her head with curiosity. “A few years back, I used to perform a dance with a ribbon, for which I had trained intensively. I was ranked among the most skillful dancers of Earth at the time in a planet-wide sports competition we call the Olympics. The dance uses a ribbon… a band like this, but narrower, and attached to a stick,” I said nervously. “If the choreography doesn’t matter, only how we manipulate the band, would it be okay for me to do that? Since we need to create a set of bands for me, maybe we could create the ribbon wand for me instead?”
Erastra hesitated, eyeing me with an uncertain expression. “And that dance involves complex movements of the band?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, nodding vigorously. “Do you have a tablet I can borrow? I should be able to find images online.”
Sure enough, moments after she gave me a tablet, I quickly found a few pictures and videos that instantly reassured my mother-in-law.
“They are much narrower than the bands, but this seems like an acceptable compromise,” Erastra said. “Do you know the measurements?”
“Yes,” I said, excitement bubbling inside of me.
It had been more than seven years since I’d stopped rhythmic gymnastics at a competitive level—or had any further training, for that matter. But I still performed it from time to time just for fun, and my regular yoga meditation had kept me toned and flexible. This I could do with confidence. Part of me also looked forward to performing in front of an audience again.
Erastra took me to the seamstress, whose cool demeanor instantly warmed once my mother-in-law explained the purpose of our visit. She was shocked at first by my request for the ribbon wand instead of the bands. For a moment, I feared straying from their custom again would not only defeat the purpose of this dance, but also further alienate the Ordosian where my bond with Szaro was concerned. However, showing her the pictures of the gymnast fully mollified her.
“You can make this narrow band swirl like in these images?” she asked.
“More even,” I said smugly. “But only if I get a good wand.”
The impressed expression on her face tickled me pink. But seeing Erastra lift her chin proudly touched me even more. In that instant, I knew I would perform my ass off on that circle, not only to restore Szaro’s honor, but to vindicate my mother-in-law for the humiliation she and her family had endured over this misunderstanding.
“Then it will be a dance to remember,” the seamstress said. “I will start working on it right away. You will be pleased with the final result.”
I thanked the female and let Erastra lead me back outside. She then proceeded to give me a tour of the village with a stop in their atrium for me to gather something to eat. When we returned to her dwelling, she took me to the back of the house, onto the terrace I had not seen yet. The view took my breath away. While I still preferred the hidden valley behind Szaro’s house, this was amazing.
At least twenty meters by ten, the stone terrace appeared to be floating in the ocean. The edge served as a springboard to dive into the water. A small ramp on the side allowed the Ordosians to climb back up. In the left corner, a circular hole with elevated edges to avoid someone inadvertently falling in, held a series of live shrimp-like critters that had gotten trapped inside. A table stood a couple of meters away from it, including—to my great surprise—a cushioned bench, perfect for a human to sit on. And next to it, a cooking stone. I instantly knew that Mandha had warned his parents of my specific needs before our arrival.
But it was the large fish in the distance, jumping out of the water that blew my mind. From a distance they looked like a cross between a dolphin and a betta fish.
“Later, Szaro will take you to swim with them if you like,” Erastra said in a friendly tone, while bringing the cooking stone to the table. “But now, eat. I will not have my son accuse me of starving his female.”
I settled at the table and ate my fruits and veggies, while Erastra shelled the ‘shrimps’ and put them to cook on the stone for me. By the time Szaro and his father finally returned home, his mother had told me every single one of his embarrassing childhood stories.
