"No, I can't imagine she is," Jeera muttered. "But maybe we can help with that too?"

I murmured, because that would be nice. "Well, Kanik thinks we need to move slowly so as not to scare Ayla. He also pointed out that typically, oppressed women often need the help of other women. You both immediately came to mind."

I looked between these two pointedly. Strong didn't even begin to describe them. Jeera was her brother's equal in every way, and Brielle wasn't far behind. They were leaders, commanding, and confident. If there was anyone who could convince Ayla she didn't need to be afraid of doing what she wanted, I couldn't think of anyone better than these two.

"Okay," Jeera said softly. "I'll figure something out. I don't want to ambush this poor girl, and I have a feeling Zasen will think I'm sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong if we just come over to help out with the new guest. So I'll have to make it subtle."

"I'm sure we can find some excuse to go over there," Brielle assured her.

"Like maybe a cookout tomorrow?" I suggested. "Also, I'm not sure Ayla would understand you two are a couple. From what Kanik could tell, she's been taught marriage is only to create children. Not for love. Not for bonding, or anything else. Just children. From the sounds of it, Moles have no other relationships besides marriage. He said friendships weren't even encouraged in her life."

"Damn," Brielle breathed. "How repressed is this girl?"

"Keep in mind she's only just learning Vestrian, and she still has quite the accent," I told them, "so Kanik was the one getting all of the information and updating me, but all signs point to 'very.'"

"Which means that as soon as she realizes she's allowed to, Ayla will most likely swing the other way," Jeera said. "No different than kids who get away from their strict parents, right? All she needs is to have the people around her slowly but surely assuring her she's allowed to do what sounds interesting. Or at least to try it."

"In other words," Brielle told me, "we need to start corrupting her. You too, Rymar. Don't force her to do anything. Just make it clear there's nothing wrong with the fact that she might want to. Give her chances, and set her up to succeed - even if she thinks it would be considered failing. Make it clear it's okay for her to have her own opinions, and then do everything possible to enable her to follow through."

Which actually sounded like a decent idea to me. One way or another, I would figure out how to empower this poor girl, because someone had to. And if that convinced her to tell us even more of her little Mole secrets, then we all would win out in the end. Not even Zasen could complain about that.

Thirty-SevenAyla

The day after I was attacked in the street, Rymar came home with a smile on his face and flowers in his hand. I was sitting sideways on the couch, doing my best to finish the book about Peter, and looked up in confusion. Rymar simply smiled, held them out, and bowed over them.

"Fa yu," he tried in English. "For you," he then said in Vestrian.

"I understood you," I admitted, replying in Vestrian, but I didn't reach for the flowers.

He pushed them at me a little more, the gesture making it clear I should take them. "Purple cone flowers."

"Why?" I asked, pulling my legs closer.

"Because I thought you liked flowers," he said, letting his arm finally drop.

"I don't want to marry you," I explained, looking at the few pages of my book I had left. "I will tell Zasen everything I know, but please don't make me marry you?"

"What?" he asked. "Ayla, are you sure you translated that to Vestrian right?"

"Huh?" The words were the same. That was why I'd been doing so well. It was just the way they were pronounced that was different.

"They're flowers," he explained slowly, enunciating his Vestrian too much. "I don't want to get married. I just saw flowers and I thought you would like them, so I bought them."

"Why?" I asked again right as Zasen came into the room.

"Ayla, take the flowers," he told me. "Rymar, find a vase. We can put them on the coffee table." Then he tossed himself down into his favorite chair. "And I'm curious to hear why flowers make you think marriage."

"The hunters would often bring them to girls," I explained as I accepted the massive bouquet. "Not as many as this. Just one or two. Something colorful, and girls would be excited. Gideon did that once for Meri. A white one. And she thought it was so sweet, but he only did it to get her to marry him, so I thought..."

"No marrying!" Rymar assured me. "None." He waved his hands in an X across his body. "Just flowers because my friend likes them." Pointing at me to make it clear who he meant, the brightly-colored man smiled and headed for the kitchen.

And now I looked at the flowers in a whole new way. Rymar had gotten these for me because we were friends? But I'd barely even talked to him since he'd started spending his days at his work. Or at his job? I wasn't sure which phrase was correct.

Plus, they really were pretty. The colors of the petals reminded me of the darker shade on Kanik's chest. It was much lighter than his neck, though. The centers were dark, similar to Zasen, and the petals folded backwards, reminding me of a picture I'd once seen of a ballerina.

"They're pretty," I said softly, smiling down at the bouquet.

"Mhm," Zasen agreed. "That's the point of flowers. So are you willing to tell me why you're smiling now when you refused them before?"

"He said we were friends," I admitted shyly.

A smile cracked Zasen's face just as Rymar returned with a large clear container filled halfway with water. "You can put them in here to make them live longer," Rymar explained. "They'll still die in a few days, but I walk past a woman who sells them on my way home."

"You walk past the entire market," Zasen pointed out.

Rymar murmured at that, clearly not concerned about the details of his explanation. Then he claimed the other chair in the room. Leaning back, he kicked his feet up on the coffee table between him and Zasen.

"So..." Rymar smiled slyly. "Guess who came to the cafe today?"

"Who?" I asked.

Not that it would matter because I didn't know anyone but the three of them. It still seemed like it was what he wanted someone to ask. When he glanced over at me and grinned, I knew I was right.

"Zasen's little sister and her girlfriend," he explained. "The nurses who helped you with your feet when you got here. They asked how you were doing. I decided we should have a cookout tomorrow."

"A what?" I asked.

"No," Zasen said a second later.

"A cookout," Rymar went on, completely ignoring Zasen. "It's all arranged already. Jeera - she's Zasen's sister - is going to get some samples of meat so we can see what you like. Brielle thought she'd bring a selection of different fruits. I'm going to cook, because we have a firepit out back. Zasen is going to grump about it, but I think he should go invite Saveah and Tamin."

"They won't come," Zasen said.

"They will if Jeera and Brielle are here," Rymar countered.

But I had a question, and one they'd skipped right over. "What's a cookout?"

"A cookout?" Kanik asked as he trotted down the stairs, clearly catching the last part of that. "Who?"

"Us," Rymar said. "Tomorrow. Jeera and Brielle are coming for sure. Zasen's going to invite Saveah and Tamin. That means Taris will be there."

"Oh, she has to be getting so big," Kanik murmured.

Confused, I was looking between the three of them. I'd gotten really good at understanding Vestrian. If I stopped thinking so hard, it was like they talked with a heavy accent, and one I was getting used to. Considering their English was almost as accented, that actually made it even easier.

And yet none of this made sense. The nurses from the hospital were coming. Tamin's mom wouldn't. I'd heard what she said about me being a Mole. But why? What was the point? And who was Taris?

"I'm confused," I admitted sheepishly.