by Sue Lyndon
Safe. She felt safe with him.
Betsy’s expression softened. “So… what are your true intentions with Layla?”
Commander Edek shot her another sharp look, then sighed.
Zamek caught Layla’s eyes. “As I said, I wish to keep her safe. And one day, if I can convince the stubborn human to say yes, as well as convince the Sumlin District council to approve the license, I intend to make her my wife.”
All the air rushed from Layla’s lungs. His wife. His wife. Happiness swelled inside her, knowing that her time as his slave might not last forever. But frustration soon followed, because he ought to have mentioned his entire plan to her earlier. She might not have argued so much about becoming his mistress. Knowing he wished to eventually make her his wife changed everything.
“Wife?” Betsy said, her eyes going wide. A smile soon overtook her features and Layla found herself grinning back, even if she was still reeling from the shock of this news.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this while we were aboard the Tammusha, General Zamek?” she muttered under her breath.
Zamek opened his mouth to reply, but approaching voices apparently made him think twice. “We must leave now,” he whispered, “but I will contact you soon, Commander Edek. There’s something I wish to discuss with you, and I’m sure Betsy and Layla would like to spend time together.”
“Of course, General,” the commander replied with a nod. He glanced over his shoulder at the approaching Kall, a group of five warriors, and started to guide Betsy away.
Betsy looked back and mouthed goodbye with a brief smile before turning around to disappear down the street with her husband.
Before Layla could finish processing all that had just happened, Zamek grasped her hair and dug his fingers into the back of her neck as he roughly urged her up the ramp of the airship. The warriors passed by just as they reached the door. While she didn’t appreciate all the manhandling, she knew Zamek didn’t have much of a choice.
Once they found their seats in the airship, it took all her self-control not to smile at him—he wanted to marry her!—or pepper him with questions. Conscious of the pilot, she kept her gaze low and took on the appearance of a miserable slave. When she shifted her hands in her lap, she winced at the pain of the manacles digging into her flesh. She hoped it didn’t take long to reach Zamek’s house, as she yearned to rub the soreness out of her wrists.
The airship ascended into the sky and they were off, passing over the town and eventually, farms and vineyards.
Sumlin District. I’m in Sumlin District.
And General Zamek wants to marry me and Betsy’s here and I saw her and ohmygodohmygod this feels like the moons and the stars are all trying to shine at once.
Happy thoughts rushed her, and she lowered her head farther, allowing her hair to conceal her face in case she accidentally smiled.
Her pulse quickened when the airship landed with a soft thud, and she peeked up to see a huge stone house that looked like something out of a fairytale. Well, to be more specific, it looked like a medieval castle, complete with four towers and several parapet walks. All it was missing was a drawbridge and a moat.
Zamek exchanged a few pleasantries with the pilot before guiding Layla off the airship, though his grip on her neck this time was much gentler. His expression darkened as the cargo hatch lifted, and he paused as two huge Kall males rushed out of the house.
Shessema’s body. She’d been in the airship all along.
Zamek uttered an ancient Kall prayer as the servants disappeared into the cargo area. Moments later, they exited the ship holding a coffin draped with a colorful blanket that was embroidered with the Sumlin District logo. Layla swallowed hard and wished she knew the right thing to say.
“She gave me her blessing,” Zamek said.
“What do you mean?” Layla asked.
“The last time I prayed over her body, I felt her acceptance of you. I know that might sound strange, but I also heard her voice in my head and saw a vision of her in the afterlife.” A distant yet peaceful look overcame him.
“Th-that’s… in-incredible,” Layla replied, her voice cracking.
Zamek nodded and then turned his attention to the servants carrying the coffin. “Please bring her to the formal sitting room. We’ll bury her here on the mountainside tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, General,” the Kall servants said in unison, then carried the coffin into the house.
She heard the airship taking off and breathed a sigh of relief that they no longer had to worry about the pilot, who Zamek clearly didn’t trust.
But then she spotted several Kall males and females exiting the house and her heart sank. More servants. Lots of them. How would Zamek treat her in front of them? Her eyes misted at the thought of his cruelty, pretend though it may be, continuing within his household.
He said I would be safe here. Did he lie?
But to her great relief, Zamek guided her to a nearby bench, where he helped her take a seat and immediately removed the heavy manacles. He growled at the sight of her reddened wrists and gently rubbed her sore flesh.
“After I introduce you to my servants, as well as my cousin and his wife, I will take you to my chambers and use a dermal regenerator on you.”
“Thank you, General.”
“It’s Zamek,” he said, raising his voice, as if he intended the entire household to hear him. “You will call me Zamek. Even in front of the servants. They will keep my secrets. You are completely safe here.”
Her heart lifted with hope. “Zamek,” she breathed.
He grasped her hand and helped her to her feet, his eyes brimming with affection. Stroking her hair, he gathered her close to his chest for a tight embrace. When he finally pulled back, he placed a lingering kiss to her forehead, heedless of the watching servants.
“Come, let’s go inside. Your new home is waiting.”
Before they entered the house, quick introductions were made. Layla strove to remember all the servants’ names. To her surprise, they all offered her a warm greeting. A few even shook her hand and said ‘hello’ in English, though it appeared that one word was the extent of their knowledge of her native tongue.
A tall Kall male dressed in fine clothing emerged from the house, a beautiful blue-haired Flourishian female at his side, and Layla surmised this must be Zamek’s cousin and his wife.
“Xazzok and Fallonn, this is Layla,” Zamek said, wrapping a possessive arm around her. “Layla, this is Xazzok and Fallonn.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Layla said, forcing a polite smile, even though smiling felt a bit wrong after watching Shessema’s coffin being carried into the house. When her smile wasn’t returned, she allowed it to fade, but didn’t take their serious expressions personally.
Xazzok gave Layla a solemn nod, as did Fallonn. No doubt they were conflicted by the circumstances of Zamek’s homecoming. She wondered how close they’d been to Shessema.
“I look forward to getting to know you, Layla,” Fallonn said in a stilted version of the Sumlin Dialect, her face brightening for a brief instant.
“I feel the same way about you,” Layla said, meaning it.
Xazzok cleared his throat and peered at Zamek. “I am sorry, cousin, for what happened to Shessema. She was beloved by us all.”
Layla’s stomach clenched and she felt a stab of guilt. Michael. Her late husband had taken Shessema’s life. But did Xazzok, Fallonn, and the servants know that? She had no idea what sort of messages Zamek might’ve sent ahead to his household. But surely they must have an idea who she was. Would they think badly of her?
“No one here blames you or thinks badly of you,” Fallonn said. “Knowing what you’ve come to mean to Zamek—he sent a message ahead explaining your presence, and it’s quite clear by his actions that he cares for you—we all welcome you with open arms. Please relax and know how welcome you truly are here.”
Layla sputtered. “How, um, how did you know what I was thinking?�
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Fallonn displayed a gentle smile. “I’m an empath, as most Flourishians are. I cannot precisely read your mind, but I’m skilled at reading emotions.” Her smile faded. “Forgive me if you think this is intrusive. If I could help it, I would stop, but I cannot turn my empathic abilities off and—”
“It’s all right, wife,” Xazzok said, patting his wife’s hand. “In this circumstance, I imagine your words must be a comfort to Layla.”
“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” Layla insisted. “I was worrying over something and you made me feel better.”
Relief spread over Fallonn’s face and she nodded. “Good. I try to keep my mouth shut most of the time,” she said with a sudden mischievous look, “but when I think someone might benefit from my abilities, I often cannot help but speak out.”
Xazzok peered at his wife with a look of mild exasperation, and Layla thought perhaps Fallonn had a tendency to speak out more often than not. But the look that passed between husband and wife was also affectionate, and she sensed Fallonn possessed a kind heart.
“We are tired after our travels,” Zamek said, “and we intend to retire to my chambers for the evening. I will see you both in the morning. The funeral is at sunrise.”
Chapter 23
The sconces cast a warm, comforting glow over Zamek’s bedroom. A fire crackled in the hearth and Layla found herself relaxing to the point of almost-sleep.
Zamek’s servant, Gaias, who’d been with him on the Tammusha, had already brought their belongings from the ship upstairs. Apparently, he’d taken a separate airship and arrived here during their visit to the slave office. She was wearing one of the sheer nightdresses Zamek had given her, but thanks to the fire she was plenty warm.
All traces of the manacles were gone from her wrists, and when she rubbed them, she didn’t feel any residual soreness. Zamek had used a dermal regenerator on her the second they reached his bedroom, and her heart swelled at the memory of the many kisses he’d placed upon her wrists once her chafed skin was repaired.
Footsteps roused her to full wakefulness, and she straightened in the oversized chair she was sitting in, gazing at the door in hopes that Zamek was returning. He’d gone downstairs to contact a Holy One on a video comm to finalize tomorrow’s funeral plans.
Shessema. Rest her sweet soul. Though Layla had never met her and Zamek hadn’t shared many details about her, she thought the Kall female must’ve been an exceptionally kind soul. After all, she’d communicated with Zamek and given her blessing for his relationship with Layla. If Zamek believed Shessema had visited him, who was Layla to question it?
The door zipped open and Zamek strode into the bedroom. He walked straight for her and knelt before her. Even while she was seated in the chair, he was still a full head taller than her while kneeling.
“How do your wrists feel, human? Any pain?” Concern reflected in his dark eyes.
“They don’t hurt at all. I promise.”
He released a long, weary sigh. “I am glad to hear it. I did not enjoy dragging you around Sumlin, knowing that the manacles were likely hurting you. I know you didn’t wish to wear them, and I will not fault you for being upset with me for how I treated you in public today, though I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Her heart raced at the sincerity in his voice. She could scarcely believe he was actually asking for her forgiveness. She wasn’t mad anymore, and she carefully extracted her hands from his, then reached out to cup his face. He stilled at her touch, appearing startled, but the warmth soon returned to his eyes and he leaned into her touch. Excited flutters rushed through her because this felt like new territory between them. A new beginning.
“I’ve already forgiven you,” she said softly.
They spent a quiet night in one another’s arms. He didn’t claim her, but she suspected his mind was on the impending funeral. Even though Shessema had allegedly given her blessing for their relationship, Zamek likely wished to wait before claiming her for the first time while in his home. She didn’t mind and she drifted to sleep in his protective embrace, feeling at peace.
The next day, they rose early for the funeral. Kall funerals were typically held during sunrise, and the entire household—including all the servants—walked to a nearby meadow, following Zamek and Xazzok as they carried Shessema’s coffin. None of Shessema’s family members were able to attend the service. Zamek had explained that she’d lost several family members in the human miners’ explosion, and her aging parents lived on the other side of planet Kall and weren’t well enough for travel.
It was a somber affair, and there was a bite to the morning air, but the service didn’t last long. The coffin was placed deep beneath the earth and everyone took turns pushing dirt atop it, then several servants rushed forward and planted flowers on the fresh mound.
A Holy One recited ancient Kall prayers and sang a haunting hymn in the oldest dialect of Kall, which Layla could recognize, even if she couldn’t understand most of what was said.
The funeral concluded at the exact moment the sun finished rising over the mountain, as if it had been perfectly choreographed. Rays of light beamed across the meadow, shining upon the newly planted flowers. The sound of nighttime insects faded, to be replaced with melodious birdsong.
The Holy One started walking down the mountain and the servants, as well as Xazzok and Fallonn, followed. Zamek lingered and his stricken expression caused her heart to lodge in her throat. Thinking that perhaps he wanted some privacy, she turned to head for the house, but his voice pulled her to a halt.
“Wait, human. I will walk you back.”
She paused and watched as he knelt before the mound. There was no grave marker, and she recalled that Kall rarely used grave markers. Sometimes plain stones or even boulders were placed near a grave, but even in those cases a name was never included. This heralded back to the Kalls’ belief that souls lived on in the afterlife and were sometimes reincarnated, but an extravagant grave marker was a worldly weight that might hold their soul in place, in a purgatory of sorts.
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven,” she whispered to herself, and continued reciting the verses from Ecclesiastes that she’d always found comforting. When she’d finally managed to visit Aunt Colleen’s grave after the war, she’d stood in the backyard of the destroyed house and recited these verses, holding her own private ceremony for the beloved woman who’d been like a mother to her.
Her throat burned when she reached verse eight.
“A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace…”
She stopped whispering when Zamek finally rose to his feet and ambled toward her. His posture was tall and confident as always, though his eyes remained clouded with grief. He blinked rapidly and met her gaze, and when a light breeze ruffled her hair, she suddenly felt the wetness of her tears rolling down her cheeks. She hadn’t realized she was crying until now.
Zamek approached her and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. Then he grasped her hand and led her down the mountain, back to his house to join the others on the huge front porch, where a continental breakfast was set out.
Layla had never attended a Kall funeral before, but she found it similar enough to a human one. Burial, prayers, songs, and fellowship.
Zamek picked at his food but urged her to eat her fill, and Xazzok and Fallonn stood with them, each taking turns sharing heartwarming or funny stories about Shessema. The whole experience was surreal, that she would be attending Shessema’s funeral after what Michael had done. But she was here, and she was alive, by the grace of Zamek’s mercy.
After the outdoor breakfast was concluded, Fallonn offered to show Layla around while Xazzok and Zamak visited the nearby vineyards. The house was huge—three stories and a basement with dozens of rooms on each floor—and Layla paid attention during the tour, not wishing to become lost.
Though the house looked like a medieval castle from the outside, the interior was much more moder
n and not very different from that to which Layla was already accustomed, though some of the appliances and technology in the house would take some getting used to.
“This is my favorite room,” Fallonn said as they entered a massive library with an arching ceiling on the top floor. “It has books, a huge fireplace, a bar, and plenty of comfortable chairs and sofas. Oh, and you can walk straight out onto the roof from that sliding door right there.” She pointed at a glass door.
“Wow, this place is amazing.” Layla grinned. “I think this is my favorite room too.”
“Do you enjoy reading?” Fallonn asked, a hopeful look in her eyes.
“Oh, reading is most definitely my favorite pastime,” Layla replied. “And if you add drinking and a warm fireplace to it, I like it even better.” She stood in the center of the room and spun in a slow circle. “Zamek might have to drag me away from here every night.”
Fallonn laughed. “Well, I’m glad you like it. I actually decorated this room myself and selected most of the books. Most are written in Common Kall, though there are a few written in Flourishian. Please do feel free to add any books of your own to this collection.”
“Thanks,” Layla said, not wishing to admit that she didn’t own many physical books, as all her belongings had been left behind on Earth. Another reason why Zamek’s gift of the electronic library had been so thoughtful, as well as the few hardback books he’d given her, most of them compilations of ancient Kall war songs.
“Perhaps now isn’t the best time to say this,” Fallonn said, “but I hope you and Zamek find happiness together, despite the unusual beginning you had. You must have been terrified of him when he carried you out of that courtroom.”
“I was frightened of him,” Layla admitted, finding Fallonn easy to talk to. “But I’m not afraid of him anymore.”
“I know he hurt you and came close to killing you at some point,” Fallonn said, her expression drawing with compassion. “I sense the residual bloodlust inside him when he looks at you, but also his deep regret. I also sense his affection for you. But it goes beyond affection. He’s possessive of you, and very protective. He would kill anyone who tried to harm you, and he wouldn’t just kill them, he would make them suffer.”
