The scorched metal smell sent shivers down Fiera Molohaney’s spine. Her steps faltered and for a moment the swirling darkness of space that existed outside the station threatened to swallow her whole. Dim recollections of screams washed over her. Phantom blood mingled with bile in the back of her throat as the world exploded around her.

A rough hand caught her arm. “Keep moving, girl,” the voice growled in her ear. “Ms. Vukovic says you’re valuable but that don’t mean I can’t rough you up a bit if you misbehave.”

“I’m only valuable ‘cause I’m pretty,” Fiera grumbled back.

A hard smack on the back of her head was answered by an even harder blow to the person who’d hit her. He sprawled on the floor. “You were told to leave her with no further damage,” a cool, feminine voice said. “Her value has already been compromised by the difficulties I had in securing her debt in the first place.”

“She was dragging her feet, trying to get away.”

“I have no doubt that she was slowing down. However, I’m certain escape is the last thing on her mind,” the woman said. The man stared at both of them with a kind of slack jawed idiocy Fiera found vaguely irritating. “The girl was onboard that liner that blew up. The poor thing is an orphan with no family, no connections, and a rather significant debt to pay to several individuals.”

“Then why are we taking her back with us, Ms. Vukovic?” the man asked.

“Do you see that hair? Those eyes? This skin? Iacchus will absolutely adore her,” the woman said.

“She’s a Colonial, Ms. Vukovic,” the man said, dragging himself to his feet. “Do you really think he’ll want her? She’s probably crawling with vermin.”

Ekatarin Vukovic’s smile was pure malice. “Josip, would you like to find out firsthand what happened to my last assistant? He questioned me as well.”

Fiera took a deep breath to steady herself. She counted backwards from one hundred. It took her getting to thirty before she felt calm enough to open her eyes. The sandy haired woman assigned by the Indentured Servant Retrieval Service to collect any useful workers for the men and women of the Central Worlds Alliance was watching her closely. Her gloved fingers drummed against her thigh, the only sign of her growing impatience with Fiera’s weakness.

Fiera managed to straighten up and rejoin the line of those with large debts that had been noted by the ISRS. None of the others who were now listed among the numerous indentured servants on the Registry seemed to have any interest in her, or in what just happened.

Fiera rubbed her wrist, where the tattoo of a stylized white fox stood out against her olive skin. She’d gotten the tattoo right before leaving for the conference on Totov. It was a reminder of her family. She bowed her head and focused on walking as the same grief she’d felt eight years earlier overwhelmed her.

The medics had lied when they said she didn’t have any family left. She had her twin brother, and a younger brother as well. She supposed Phelix at least was probably also indentured by now. Herry had been a baby, only three years old, when the famine killed everyone else in their settlement. He most likely got adopted by someone and was hopefully living his best life somewhere away from all the troubles.

The line of indentured individuals moved forward slowly and were soon passed through station security as they boarded the Takahachi. Once they were on board, nine men and five women joined Ekatarin. Three women wore the same wristbands as Fiera and the other indentured.

“Ms. Vukovic, I trust you aren’t wasting our time,” one of the men said. He was tall and slender, all lines and hard angles.

“I think I have quite a good collection this time, Master Santorini,” Ekatarin said. She nodded to Josip, who pulled Fiera and a handful of the others out of the line. “These are the ones I think you, in particular, will appreciate.”

The man Ekatarin called Master Santorini started pacing around the small group she’d separated out. He prodded each of them, grasping the breasts of the women and the buttocks of the men. The man reached down and caught hold of Fiera’s chin. She met his judging gaze fearlessly. His smile was predatory. “She does have unusual eyes for her coloration. Is she native?” he asked, looking over at Ekatarin.

“Yes, though she has no living family,” Ekatarin said. He gave Ekatarin a disbelieving look. “I checked while she was in recovery, Iacchus. They died during the famine.”

“How did we acquire her?” Iacchus asked.

“She was on board the Lusitania when it blew,” Ekatarin said. “She’s one of the survivors. No family, her savings drained, and no official lines of credit to draw on because the banks on Sorus don’t consider these things as necessary. They just write little notes in the accounts and allow the people to pay off what they owe when they can.”

Iacchus snorted. “These Colonials have always been backwards. The hair color, when did she get it done?”

“She says it’s her natural color,” Ekatarin said. “We did a test on a few strands and she seems to be correct.”

“A dark cherry red is natural?” Iacchus asked.

“Family trait,” Fiera said, drawing both of their attention back onto her. “My da had it.”

Iacchus nodded. “I’ll take her,” he said after walking around Fiera a few more times. “I’ll take these others too, but not those three. They’re not worth my time.”

“All right,” Ekatarin said. The next man stepped forward.

Iacchus beckoned one of the women over, a dark and sleek creature that reminded Fiera of a hunting cat. “Intira, take them to our rooms. Clean them up and see to it that they’re dressed appropriately. I want a good idea of what we’re working with.”

“As you wish, Iacchus,” the woman named Intira all but purred. Her piercing gold eyes were hungry for something Fiera didn’t quite understand. “You, come with me.”

Fiera heard a small sniff and looked around. Another one of the indentured – a too thin, pretty brown-haired girl Iacchus singled out after choosing Fiera – stared at Intira as if she were very much the cat Fiera saw her as and the girl was her dinner. Fiera slid her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Come on,” Fiera said. “Best t’do as we’re told. Keeps us out of trouble.”

The girl nodded, clinging to Fiera as they walked through the corridors. No one paid any notice to the string of six men and women being led to an unknown fate by the graceful woman in front of them. A couple of the porters took note only because they needed to move some baggage out of the way.

Intira led them into a large suite of rooms. A group of oddly uniformed people milled around in one corner. “All right, come get your new charges,” Intira said, addressing them. A man approached Fiera. Intira pushed him away. “Not you. Xenon, you and your sisters will deal with this one. Clean her up, dress her well, and grow her hair.”

“How long, Mistress Intira?” the man called Xenon asked.

“Grow it to mid-thigh,” Intira said. “Do it as quickly as is safe. I don’t want Iacchus to have to wait too long for this.”

“Of course, Mistress Intira,” Xenon said, bowing sinuously. He led Fiera into a side room. “Strip and let me see what we’re working with.”

Fiera pulled off the simple shirt and pants she’d been wearing. “All of it,” one of the twin women said. “We cannot fully understand the creation we are required to make if you are not bare.”

Fiera’s hands shook as she pulled off her underclothes. She hunched over, covering her private parts with as much of her body as she could. The other twin reached over and jabbed her in the back. The blow forced Fiera to stand up straight.

“Not much in the chest region,” one of the sisters said. She was lean, like Iacchus and Intira, with long black hair streaked with amethyst.

“No, but those hips are quite nicely shaped,” the second sister said. Her hair was black and sapphire and while she was slim her curves were a bit more pronounced.

“Her ass is good too,” Xenon said. “Calixtra, Cambria, look at her eyes. We need to highlight those as well as her better assets.”

“She isn’t very soft,” Calixtra said. She prodded Fiera’s stomach and squeezed her arms. “We won’t be able to change that.”

“Soft isn’t always the preferred trait,” Xenon said. “But we will have to do something about those hands of hers. They look like she’s spent her life doing hard labor of some kind.”

“I did,” Fiera said, pulling her hands away. “I’m a farmhand. Been one since I was seventeen.”

“So, you are physically strong,” Xenon said. “Are you intelligent?”

Fiera shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve been readin’ a lot. Never did finish my schoolin’. Didn’t have the time once my da and ma died. It was work or go t’the detention center. Had enough of that in my life t’want t’avoid it.”

“Speech lessons,” Xenon said. “Cambria, make a note. We’ll have to let Master Iacchus know she needs them.”

“Yes Xenon,” Cambria said. She tucked a few strands of sapphire behind her ear and noted something on a tablet. “She’s already going to need to learn so much.”

“Yes, well, if she can’t speak properly, it won’t matter what her other skills are,” Xenon said. He grabbed a soft terry cloth robe and draped it over Fiera. “All right. Calixtra, start figuring out what kind of dress you can use to highlight her best features. Cambria, take her into the bathroom and get her properly cleaned up. Scrub her hair thoroughly. Any kind of contaminant will slow the speed growth process.”

“We know that, Xenon.” Cambria rolled her eyes. “You tell us this every time.”

“That’s more for her than you.” Xenon went over and started sorting through a basket filled with containers of chemicals.

Cambria took her into the bathroom. “You seem fairly clean,” she said with a frown.

“I was in the medical station until they came and got us today,” Fiera said.

“What kind of injuries?” Cambria asked.

“Burns, head trauma, broken bones, internal bleeding, ruined organs,” Fiera said. “They’re surprised I didn’t die. That’s why the debt’s so high. It’s not cheap gettin’ whole new organs out here.”

“I should say not,” Cambria said. “Well, climb into the shower.” Fiera shed the robe and did as she was told. “Have you ever worn perfume?”

“I do for Himostava and the Summer Festival.”

“That’s good to hear. What do you usually pick?” Cambria was looking over some buttons on the wall next to the shower.

“Something spicy. I’m not into flowers. Don’t like roses, or lilies or whatever. Cinnamon, maybe the stuff you see put in the cookies you put into the sugar domes for littles at Himostava, things like that. Those suit me,” Fiera said.

“We don’t want you to smell like food,” Cambria said. “Or to remind someone of their mother.” She stared at the panel for several seconds. “Perhaps something with citrus would flatter you.” She pressed a few buttons and then turned on the water.

Fiera squawked as a blast of ice-cold water struck her before it warmed up. The smell strongly reminded her of the industrial cleaner they used on the farms. Her stomach heaved and she staggered out, vomiting into the nearby toilet.

“What’s going on in here?” Xenon asked as he entered the room.

“I chose a scent I thought would favor her and she threw up,” Cambria said. She sounded almost offended.

“Did she tell you what she liked?” Xenon watched as Fiera wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

“Well, yes,” Cambria said. “But she likes things that make her smell like cookies.”

“Then use that. Iacchus will be here soon and you’re delaying things again, Cambria. Remember what happened the last time you kept him waiting?” Xenon asked.

Cambria shuddered. “Yes Xenon.” She turned off the water, changed a few things, and turned it back on.

Xenon walked over to the sink and filled a glass with water. He gave it to Fiera. “Rinse your mouth out, blow your nose, and get back in the shower. I need all the time I can get to work on your hair.”

“Okay.” Fiera took the water. He left the bathroom. Fiera rinsed out her mouth and blew her nose. She climbed back in the shower and was struck by the scent of the spice cookies she’d loved as a child.

Once Fiera was clean, she stepped out onto a panel. Jets of hot air blew around her, drying her quickly. Cambria wrapped her in the robe again and led her out of the bathroom.

“Sit in this chair,” Xenon said. Fiera sat down. He poured a mix of chemicals on her head. It stung Fiera’s nose. She sneezed. “Please do not move so abruptly.”

“How’m I supposed t’stop a sneeze?” Fiera asked.

“Hold it in,” Xenon said.

“That’s dangerous. ‘Specially for someone who’s had a brain injury like me.”

Xenon sighed and settled a metal ring around her head. “Don’t move.” He walked away to help Cambria and Calixtra with whatever they were doing.

Fiera’s head started to itch intensely. She gritted her teeth, hands clutching the arms of the chair. There was a distinct creak as her rather significant strength put some strain on them. “Try not to break the chair,” Calixtra called. “Iacchus won’t like it and those chairs aren’t cheap. He’ll add it to your debt.”

“It itches,” Fiera hissed.

“Of course it does. We’re forcing the growth of your hair. What would normally take years I’m doing in minutes.” Xenon beamed. “It’s one of the wonders of technology you’ll find available to you on Bouarus. For a fee, of course.”

It took an hour before Xenon finally came back over and released her from her torment. Cambria took her back into the bathroom. “I’ll use the same settings,” she said, poking the panel. “Get in, wash your hair, get out. Fast.”

Fiera jumped in as soon as the water was on. She scratched her head, scouring it until the itching stopped. She gasped as she realized the ends of her hair were brushing the middle of her thighs. It felt wrong, itchy, and unpleasant.

Fiera stepped out and the dryers activated. She was surrounded by a mass of cherry red strands blown every direction, some getting in her eyes and mouth. She hacked and spat the hair out of her mouth. “That’s not right,” she said, looking at her hair.

“Have you never had long hair?” Cambria asked as she handed Fiera a clean robe.

“No.” Fiera shook her head, cringing as she felt the pull of the tangling strands. “Short hair’s easier t’manage on the farms.”

“Well, you’re not a farmhand anymore,” Cambria said. “You’re a Pleasure Seeker.”

“I’m t’be turned into a whore?” Fiera stared at the other woman, horrified.

Cambria glared at her. “Pleasure Seekers are not whores. Oh you Colonials are so stupid!”

Calixtra came into the room. “Cambria, Iacchus will be here any minute. Is she clean?”

“She’s clean, but she’s too stupid for words.” Cambria threw her hands up in the air. “She thinks Pleasure Seekers are whores.”

“Out here they are,” Calixtra said. “It doesn’t matter. We have a job to do and you’re slowing me down.” Calixtra led Fiera out of the bathroom. “I took your measurements and coloration into account and came up with this. It’s not near as fine as you’ll end up in, depending on which House you get sold to, but it’ll have to do. I’ll have some other outfits made up for you soon enough.”

Fiera stared at the dress Calixtra was holding up. “I’ve never had anythin’ that fine in my life.”

“Pull it on and let’s see how you look,” Calixtra said with a smile.

Fiera pulled on the dress. Calixtra settled the layers of silk properly and then laced it up in the back. Xenon came over and braided Fiera’s hair. He pulled out a small makeup kit and dabbed a bit here and there on her face. Calixtra helped her slip her feet into a pair of blue sandals once Xenon was finished.

“She doesn’t look half bad once she’s cleaned up,” Xenon said, stepping back to observe his work.

“She is an absolute work of art in just that simple style,” Iacchus said, walking through the door. “I can only imagine what she’ll look like with the elegance currently in style on Bouarus.”

“It seems you found a good one this time,” Xenon said.

“If you can get her properly educated,” Cambria muttered.

“I take it she said something to upset Cambria?” Iacchus asked.

“She called Pleasure Seekers whores,” Calixtra said.

Iacchus chuckled. “Cambria, my dear, in the most literal sense of the word, Pleasure Seekers are whores. They sell their bodies for the pleasure of others. Not necessarily for sex, but you know that does happen.” Cambria pressed her lips together as she looked away. Calixtra put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I know you don’t like hearing that your mother was a high-priced prostitute, Cambria. But that is just something you have to reconcile yourself to.” Iacchus took hold of Fiera’s arm and dragged her from the room.

He pointed to a chair and Fiera got the hint. She sat down, taking care not to sit on her hair. She looked around. The other indents had been cleaned up and similarly dressed. Both men and women had longer hair now, though hers was by far the longest.

Intira leaned against the door. She watched them all through narrowed eyes. “They do look very nice, Iacchus.”

“That they do. Ekatarin did very well this time. The red head is the real jewel in this lot, though they’ll all fetch a high price. I should recoup my losses quite nicely.” Iacchus looked at the gathered group of indentured servants in front of him. “Now, let me be clear on one thing. You six have cost me a great deal of money. I paid Ekatarin for your debts, and the fees the ISRS charges for early sale of a contract. Now, I have not added those to your debt. If you irritate me I will.”

“So we’re t’be grateful t’you?” one of the men spat.

“You would have either ended up with me or among those being sent to work in the mines.” Iacchus met the man’s gaze until the indent looked away. “You’d be dead before the year is out if you ended up working industrial. With me, you have a chance for survival. Those who dressed you will oversee your lessons. You’ll learn what will be expected of you, how you can best please your patrons, and how you can potentially earn your freedom. Cause any problems and I’ll increase your debt accordingly. If you become too much of a burden, I’ll turn you over to the ISRS and let them decide what to do with you whether or not you’ve hit the threshold.”

Iacchus and Intira left the room. Xenon came over to Fiera. “Come along,” he said, taking her arm. “You have a great many lessons to deal with and we only have the fifteen weeks we’ll be traveling to get you ready for your new position.”

Fiera pulled her arm free. “I’ll follow but you don’t have t’drag me around like a recalcitrant child.”

Xenon blinked. “So you won’t give me any trouble when I tell you to go somewhere?”

“I’m not stupid. I’m not gettin’ sent off with the ISRS. Threshold or not they’d probably just liquidate me,” Fiera said.

“Well, you’re smarter than I thought. Follow me.” Xenon led her back into the suite of rooms she’d started her transformation in. He sat her down in a chair. “Now, from your build and strength, am I safe to say you’re a heavyworlder?”

“Yes.”

“Can you remember the last time you ate?” Xenon watched her closely.

“Last night some time.” Fiera shrugged. “We were pulled up this mornin’ before breakfast was served. Didn’t get nothin’ before and once we were sold t’ISRS the station staff didn’t have any reason t’care.”

“But you do have the higher metabolism of a heavyworlder, yes?” Xenon asked. Fiera nodded. “You must be hungry.”

“I’m very hungry.”

“The chair I had you sitting in also had a medical scanner built in. It gave a readout that shows you’re rather lacking in several key nutrients. Why?” Xenon poured her some tea and filled a plate with food.

“Medics don’t care ‘bout you if you’re Colony born. You get the bare minimum and you’re lucky t’get that,” Fiera said. “The two women who got saved from the liner that came from the Core were treated like they were members of the Assembly or somethin’. They got special food, private rooms, their own personal medics, and the highest priority when somethin’ went wrong.”

She reached for her cup. Xenon stopped her. “Are you naturally left-handed?” he asked. Fiera nodded. “Very well. Show me how you’d pick that up if you were having lunch with friends.” Fiera picked up the cup the same way she always had. Xenon frowned. “That’s not a very elegant method.”

“We don’t do fancy. Even having meals with friends it’s just sit down, shove food in our mouths, and either get back t’work or inside before curfew,” Fiera said. “Dinners after curfew are shove food in your face and go t’bed ‘cause you’re up at dawn t’do it all over again.”

Xenon reached over and corrected her hold on the cup. “This is how you hold a teacup. You want to show the curve of your wrist, the strength and grace in your hand. Now, what did you do on Sorus?”

Fiera brought the cup to her lips. She closed her eyes, inhaling the steam. The ginger and what she thought might be apricot soothed her nerves a little. She took a sip, savoring the flavors as they washed over her tongue. “I was a farmhand,” she said once she’d opened her eyes again and set down the tea. “Plant, weed, harvest. Dig holes, repair equipment, put up outbuildings. Climb up on people’s houses and fix roofs. Whenever someone needed a laborer that was me.”

“The expression on your face was very pleasing,” Xenon said. “Do you like the tea?”

“It’s better’n anythin’ I’ve ever had,” Fiera said. “It reminds me a bit of a dessert ma used to make for me da, a pie made of apricots that was loaded with ginger. She only ever made it for him.”

Xenon held up one long finger. “We’ll have to work on your speech too. The proper way to say that would be ‘it reminds me of a dessert my mother used to make for my father, a pie made of apricots that she spiced heavily with ginger.’”

“Why does it matter how I talk? The Core Worlders aren’t goin’ t’want anythin’ t’do with me ‘cause I’m Colony born,” Fiera said.

“Ah, but I am here to help you learn the first steps in tricking them into believing you are just as much from the Aureliya sector as they are,” Xenon said. He smiled. “Do you think my sisters and I came from the Core Worlds?”

“You sure look and act like it,” Fiera said.

Xenon shook his head. “We’re from Zenreon. We went into business together once the twins were adults and got in over our heads. We were so far in debt there was no real way for us to get out of it. Master Iacchus bought our debt and we’ve been working for him for the past decade. We’ve almost bought ourselves free, though I doubt we’ll go anywhere. He pays well for those who stay with him and really, this isn’t a bad job.”

“Is it easy t’buy yourself free when you’re a Pleasure Seeker?” Fiera asked.

Xenon sighed. “No. Any kind of infraction increases your debt and there are so many rules that you’ll find yourself inundated with problems in the beginning.”

“Are we expected t’just know what those rules are?” Fiera asked.

“Oh, I’ll teach you the general requirements. Whatever House buys your contract from Master Iacchus will then tell you their specific rules,” Xenon said. “It isn’t an easy life, but it can be both pleasurable and profitable if you play the game correctly.”

“This is supposed t’be a game?” Fiera asked.

“Those in power see it as one,” Xenon said. He leaned forward. “You’re a rare treasure, Fiera. I’ve been out this way a number of times and I’ve never seen a woman with your combination of features. You’ll be considered exotic because genetics gave you naturally what most of the women in the Houses have to get through artificial means. There will be a lot of jealousy coming your way. You’re going to be attacked, maybe even seriously injured. The medical costs will be added to your debt.”

“Why would they be added t’mine and not the stupid ketch who attacked me?” Fiera asked.

“There will never be any proof of who did it, even if there is blatant evidence.” Xenon folded his hands in his lap. “They could have a holo recording of the whole thing and not a word will be said to anyone. That’s simply the way the Houses operate. If you aren’t smart enough to protect yourself then you aren’t worth the extra effort of protecting.”

“That seems like a real bad way t’do business.” Fiera scowled. “Wouldn’t it be better t’punish the ones who damage the merchandise?”

Xenon smirked. “Oh, the assailant doesn’t come out unscathed. They are shunned by the coordinators. They are refused jobs, even with their favored clients. Those clients are told the truth even if no one else is and while there are patrons who value such ferocity in their escorts, most prefer the docile to the violent.”

“So while the victim’s debt increases the one who attacked them, their debt just doesn’t go down?” Fiera asked.

“Ah, they also get an increase in their debt. Because you see, all of your expenses are taken out of the jobs you do.” Xenon raised his hands gracefully. “If you don’t work, those expenses are added to your debt. While there will be a minimal increase in the debt of the person they’re envious of, they risk a massive increase in their own debt. For the majority it won’t be worth the risk.”

“There are still goin’ t’be some who’d rather see me dead in the street than take their favorite customers though.” Fiera took another sip of her tea.

“Death is a completely different matter.” Xenon took a drink of his own tea. “If you die from their attempts at injuring you, then they are instantly picked up by the ISRS and liquidated. There will be no pleading, no requests for clemency, no bargaining. Murder is not tolerated.”

“Well, that’s somethin’,” Fiera muttered. She reached for her cup again.

“Not like that.” Xenon adjusted her grip again and showed her how to hold the cup. “Everything you do has to be visually pleasing. You will become a living work of art, for that is first and foremost what a Pleasure Seeker is. You must present yourself as cultured, well-bred, beautiful, and above all fascinating.”

“Well, if they want t’know how t’farm or fix a thresher, I’m goin’ t’dazzle them,” Fiera said, pressing the cup to her forehead. The cold chill of her reality flooded through her and she craved the warmth of the tea in more ways than one. “‘Cause I’m too stupid for much else.”

Xenon raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how to read?”

“Yeah. I love books. Gettin’ any kind of schoolin’ when yer an orphan isn’t easy so you have t’get yer learnin’ wherever you can. Most girls doin’ my thing are just focused on bein’ farmhands. I spent my winters in the library when I wasn’t fixin’ broken equipment or patchin’ buildings.”

Xenon nodded. “So a more formal method way of teaching you would probably be harder for you to accommodate yourself to. There are some things I’ll have to teach you, or the girls will, but if I gave you a tablet and told you to read would you actually look through what I told you to?”

“I would. I’ll read anythin’ you give me,” Fiera said.

“Excellent,” Xenon said. “Now, there are things you’ll have to learn from us that you can’t learn from reading, but we should be able to create an environment that will let you learn everything you need to.”

“What do I have t’learn first?” Fiera asked.

Xenon smiled. “We will start with how to move, how to sit, and how to hold your hands. From there I’ll let you spend the rest of the afternoon reading.”

“Can I at least eat first? I’m hungry and I don’t do good with low blood sugar.” Fiera’s stomach growled as if to emphasize her point.

Xenon shook his head. “It still stuns me that they thought it wise to keep a heavyworlder from eating.”

“Yeah, but you think these vapor brained medics care ‘bout that? They got paid up by that Ekatarin woman. If we die it don’t matter.” Fiera rubbed her forehead.

“Do you think that is the proper way of saying that?” Xenon asked.

Fiera rolled her eyes. “Prob’ly not. But I’m too dizzy to figure out what the proper words are.”

“All right.” Xenon gave a small laugh. “Even I know that low blood sugar makes it difficult to retain anything you learn. Eat your snack now, and we’ll see that you get something at regular intervals going forward. You prefer something with high protein in it, correct?” Fiera nodded. “All right. I know we have quite the selection from the liner kitchen, so I’ll make sure we have that going forward.”

Fiera looked at Xenon. “You want me t’try t’practice some fancy way of eatin’?”

“No.” Xenon laughed again. “You need to eat now. Just try not to get anything on the dress. You’ll upset my sisters.” Fiera ate as delicately as she could manage. Once she was finished, Xenon rose and moved to stand in front of her. “Now that you’re finished, we will begin.”