The Xillian Trilogy (The Xillian Rebellion)

by Maia Tanith

  The cries get louder as I push the door open to the servant’s quarters.

  It is Faye’s voice I heard. She is pushed up against the wall, with the guard standing over her, his hand clamped on her mouth and one hand scrabbling to pull up her shirt.

  I see red behind my eyes and my claws extend. “What is going on here?”

  Faye’s eyes meet mine, wide and tearful. She’s got a fresh bruise on her cheek under her left eye.

  The guard pushes himself away with an easy motion. “Your Honor, excuse us. Your new slave took a liking to me.” He grins at me, as if to share a secret. As if he expects me to wink and give him encouragement and back out of the room to let him get on with it.

  Faye is frozen to the spot.

  “It doesn’t look much like she is liking it,” I say coolly, trying to refrain from reaching out and hitting him myself. To lie so blatantly—and he a royal guard too. My uncle’s influence is seeping into every corner of this poisoned palace.

  The guard should be quaking with fear. He should be groveling to me, to his prince, to ask for forgiveness. He should never have had the gall to act in this way in the first place, let alone in the Queen’s quarters, with a slave that belongs to the prince.

  Yet the guard knows that I know that I can’t punish him, I have so little influence here. “What is your name?” I ask, clinging on to my temper with a thread.

  “Yefrik, your Honor.” He is younger than me, but not by much. His guard’s uniform is immaculate. He has the gold stripes on the shoulders of his tunic to identify him as an almost noble—one of the kits of the lesser courtiers no doubt.

  His parents are likely allies of my uncle, for their son to be placed straight into the royal guard at this young age.

  “Yefrik, get out of here. If I see you down this part of the palace, or bothering my mother’s servants again, my uncle will see to it that you won’t have a position in the guard any longer.”

  He shrugs. “And if the Emperor doesn’t care what I do?”

  His family must be very powerful for him to be so insolent to my face. That, or they are enjoying the momentary goodwill of the Emperor right now. I flex my claws. They are razor sharp and I know how to use them to best advantage. “Then I will take care of the problem myself.”

  He looks back at me and sneers, but he holds his tongue. The dual threats of my uncle and my claws are enough for him. He walks to the door but turns back to me. “Your slave girl is very pretty, your Honor. When you are finished with her, I would like to request her for my own quarters.” He saunters out, his arrogance radiating off him in waves that heat my face with anger.

  I am shaking with rage and my claws are aching with the desire to rip out that guard’s guts and leave him bleeding on the floor.

  I turn back to Faye. “Where is Litha?”

  Faye pushes herself off the wall. “She went to get some stuff for my hand.” She is trembling but making an effort to hide it.

  “Go with her next time,” I advise her. “Don’t stay anywhere alone. Or let her be alone, either.”

  “Or this will happen again?” she asks, her whole body radiating anger. “And the next guy will get away with it, just like that shithead got away with it? And it’s up to me to protect myself from shitheads like him, and they won’t be punished? He will get off scot free even though he attacked me?” Her words are spilling out of her in a furious torrent.

  I shrug. “It’s complicated.”

  All the fight drains out of her, and the light in her eyes with it. “So, you will do nothing to protect me, then.” A statement, not a question. “Or to protect Litha. Your mother’s nurse.”

  I take her by the hand and set her down on the end of the second pallet crammed into the small room. “I am out of favor with my uncle. If I were to ask for justice, he would laugh in my face and tell me to settle such a petty squabble myself. He would paint me as a coward in front of the whole court. Were I to punish the guard myself, he would claim I am usurping his power to dispense justice and have me whipped. I know this. He has done exactly this before. It is one of the games that he loves to play.

  “So, no, I cannot protect you. My uncle does not wish to see you protected. He will destroy you without a second thought if he thinks it matters to me, even just the smallest amount. And yes, you have to protect yourself. No one else can do it for you.”

  “And Litha? What about her?”

  “She is a healer, and thus owed some respect. Most guards honor her work and leave her alone.”

  Her face is pale. “Most?”

  “The two of you will be safer together. And safer still if you stick with me as much as possible. Though I am not always able to leave my rooms, and Litha must complete her studies as well as carry out her duties towards my mother. I will do what I can. But I am warning you now, it will not be enough. It can never be enough.”

  Faye

  I never thought I would be grateful to see my captor, but I was definitely glad to see him come barreling in.

  He saved me from being raped by that beast of a guard. The guard was so strong that there was little I could do against him. He could hold me immobile with one hand. And I only had one good hand to fight him off with.

  Not that it mattered. Even if I had had two hands, he was simply too strong for me.

  I tried to knee him in the groin, but he merely angled his body away and laughed in my face. I bit him, and he backhanded me and covered my mouth with the palm of his hand so I couldn’t do it again.

  I was helpless. Utterly helpless. And I hated it.

  I wish I had a knife. Even just a pen knife. Something sharp I could ram into the stomach of the next guard who tries to play me such a trick.

  I will keep my eyes peeled. There is bound to be something I can steal. A knife from dinner. Maybe Litha has one that she uses to mix up her medicines. She seems to act as both a doctor and a pharmacist.

  Because there will be a next time. The prince just made that clear.

  He’s made it clear that while I have to call him ‘Your Majesty,’ he has nearly as little power as I do.

  I’m grateful for being rescued, but I still hate him, in his royal robes and his halfhearted kindness. He’s made it clear he’s different to me.

  I would never have slaves, no matter what my position was. If I was him, the nephew of the ruler, I’d do something. Something to make sure there were no slaves and no innocent people were kidnapped and imprisoned and made to work. And to make sure that all women felt safe, were safe, walking around the palace on their own.

  The rest of the day I stick close to Litha. Her sweet innocence is almost too much for me after barely half an hour. As we walk through the palace and she shows me the passages to the kitchens, to the healers quarters, to the great dining hall, to the council chambers where the Emperor spends a lot of his time, she smiles at all the guards and curtseys to any of the claw men and women that walk past decked in robes that identify them as people of importance. The sweet stupid smile never leaves her face, even when the guards leer at us or the courtiers ignore us.

  “How are you so happy?” I ask over lunch, a meagre spread of bread and something similar to cheese. It’s dry and tough but goes down well. The lack of taste is probably good for my stomach right now.

  “It’s not so bad here,” she replies. “Here we are fed, looked after. As a healer I am trained on the very latest technologies and have access to any medicines I need, and I am free to wander the palace and the palace grounds when I like, as long as I do my duties.”

  I take another bite of bread, chew, and swallow. We’re sitting in the kitchens, a huge labyrinth of food stores and shelves and benches and open fire ovens, and stacks of what look like microwaves, but have no buttons. I watch with interest as one of the servants (or slaves, who knows really?) places a bowl of mush in the machine and walks away. I can’t see her push an ON button, or do anything, yet the bowl of mush starts to rise.

  It’s like a futuristic micro
wave. The smell coming from it is a mix of chocolate and orange. I wonder what she’s cooking. “But what about outside the palace? I mean, why stay here as a servant when you don’t have to? Don’t you want to be free?”

  Her wide eyes meet mine. “I am free to go, but why would I? The palace is where I’m safest. I have no family outside of my friends here, and little money of my own. Here we have all the latest and greatest medical technology available, and I can study to be healer and save lives. Why would I want to go anywhere else?” She leans closer and lowers her voice, and her smile falters for the first time since I have met her. “It’s not so nice outside the palace any longer. People starve in the city if they cannot work, and they do not enjoy any protection from the Emperor. I am grateful that here I have food. And I am safe.”

  Then she leans back and raises her voice again. “The queen always looks after me. I love her like family. I’ll continue to nurse her as long as I can. Then, if I am lucky, I’ll be moved to another area of the palace.” She shrugs, a delicate little movement.

  “But the guards,” I protest. “They’re brutes. How can you feel safe?”

  She blushes. “Not all of them are brutes.”

  She doesn’t need to say anything else. “You’re in love with one of them, aren’t you?”

  She glances around quickly. No one is in earshot. All the rest of the people in this giant kitchen look busy, washing dishes, or chopping what look like vegetables, although I’ve not seen rainbow colored sprouts on Earth. “Shhh. Please don’t tell anyone. It’s not allowed.”

  “So you’re free, but not free to have a boyfriend?” I’m incredulous. How can she think she is free if she can’t even openly love someone?

  “It’s not allowed until the senior guards have their pick of available mates. He has to get a blessing from the Emperor to mate with one of the palace servants. He is waiting until he is promoted to ask to marry me. Then he’ll have a better chance that the Emperor will say yes.” She speaks this as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, to have your employer decide on your love life.

  “And what if the Emperor says no?”

  She pales slightly and shakes her head. “He only says no if he wants me himself, which he doesn’t. He doesn’t like me much because I am so close to the Queen. Or if someone close to him wants to mate with me. It won’t happen to me, I hope. The queen will make sure of it.”

  I have little doubt in my mind as to what the Emperor does if he wants someone. I don’t want to point out to the hopeful claw girl in front of me what I think is obvious—the queen is going to die very soon, and she won’t have any sway over her brother then. If she even has much now. I hope Litha’s guard is promoted soon so she can stay safe.

  And, selfishly, I hope she’s not moved to another part of the castle. Then I’ll be on my own.

  Litha’s sweetness still annoys me, but by the end of the day I have begun to hold a little respect for her. She’s younger than me, and doing what she can to survive, just like I am. She’s respected among the healers, and I can tell by the way they treat her when we stop by the healers’ common room for an additional power pack for her scanner and some more of the opioid paste for the Queen, that she is good at what she does.

  Maybe her sweet exterior hides a girl who’s stronger than she looks.

  That night, I stay in her room in the Queen’s quarters on a hastily made bed on the floor. It is close enough to the Queen’s bedroom that Litha can hear her if she needs anything in the night.

  Restless, I cannot sleep. I lie awake and gaze out of the window. Where are Delia and Hannah now? Are they safe and well? Sold to someone who treats them well? I hope so. I have to think so or I will cry, and that will not help them anyway.

  And the rest of the creatures who were presented to the Emperor alongside me? I have not seen any of them since I was carried out of the dining hall. I will have to ask Prince Khan in the morning if he knows where they are. I don’t so much care about the nasty, snouty things, but I would like to see the tentacley thing who was kind to me.

  How will I ever escape from this place and make it back to Earth?

  Tears prick my eyelids as I think about home. I will never see my village again, or my aunt and cousins who were so kind to me. They will think that I died on the journey to America and they will blame themselves for helping me leave.

  I pull the skimpy blanket up to my neck as silent tears roll down my face.

  Litha rolls over onto one elbow. “Sleep, Faye,” she murmurs. “It’s no use staying awake and fretting over what you can’t change.”

  It’s like she’s read my mind. I decide to take her advice. I curl up on the lumpy mattress, shut my eyes and eventually go to sleep.

  The next morning, I seize my chance when we go by the kitchens. A small knife sits unattended on the chopping board. I palm it with my good hand, keeping it hidden until we are out in the kitchen garden.

  Litha almost faints with terror when I show her what I have stolen. “What possessed you to take that?” she almost hisses at me. “You are a slave. You are not allowed a weapon. If someone finds it on you, you will be whipped.”

  I shrug. It seems like I will be punished whatever I do. “And if I am cornered again by one of the guards, I will be raped. I would rather be whipped.”

  Less than a day goes by before I am grateful I stole it.

  That morning, Litha tearfully informs me that her lover was not promoted in the latest round. He will be asking the Emperor to marry her anyway, in the hopes he asks before anyone else can express an interest. However, his standing is not that high, and a yes is not guaranteed. She is devastated at the thought that he may be refused.

  That afternoon Lila asks me to gather some plants from the small garden outside the healers’ quarters to start my new training as a healer’s assistant. “The more useful you are, the better you are likely to be treated,” she says prosaically, as she gives me detailed instructions on the plants I need to find and how I must harvest them.

  I slip the knife into my sleeve, worried already to be on my own in these hallways for a few minutes. No one disturbs me on my way to the healers’ garden, and no one interrupts me as I painstakingly gather eight small jars full of different colored plants.

  Litha has taught me the basics of some of these plants. They are a good substitute for when the supply ships are late, and stocks of mass-produced medicines run low and are available only to the Emperor and his cronies. One is brewed into tea to help sleep. One is ground into a paste and put in food to help stop stomach bugs. One is chewed to help relieve pain and gives a tingling feeling in the mouth. I know this as I’d slipped a leaf and chewed it myself to see if it helped the pain from my hand. It did—but the tingly feeling was overwhelming, like pins and needles in my mouth. And it wasn’t so much that it dulled the pain as it made me forget about it.

  I carry the jars back to the Queen’s apartments carefully. When I get there, the door is wide open.

  Litha never leaves it open when she is here alone with the Queen. The Queen must have a guest. I step inside hesitantly and scurry off to the room we share, hoping to avoid running into whatever visitor the Queen may be entertaining. I am scared that it may be the Emperor, come to visit his sick sister, and I am anxious to avoid his further notice.

  When I push open the door to our room quietly, the jars fall from my hands, shattering on the ground at my feet. The knife I’d slid into my sleeve is in my hand in seconds. The guard, the same one who’d tried to attack me, is on top of a squirming, crying Litha. She’s pinned to the bed and he has one hand on her throat to stop her from making any noise.

  He’s startled at the sound of breaking glass, but he doesn’t move fast enough.

  My knife is at his throat. It’s small, but it’s sharp. I dig it in a little, to draw blood. “Get off her,” I spit.

  He grins, and whirls around to face me. He moves so fast I jump, but I keep the knife at his throat.

  “I’ll h
ave you whipped for this, slave,” he says. “Once I’ve finished with the both of you. If there is anything left of you to whip, that is.”

  Then he swings his arm at me, his claws starting to extend. I know he’s going to hit me before he does it, and I move away, but the knife has a mind of its own, and as I jump back, it slices his cheek open.

  I freeze, horrified. The cut is deep, and the blood is pouring from it. For one terrible second his eyes meet mine and I know he means to kill me.

  “You little bitch,” he hisses, and he’s on his feet, stepping towards me as I back away. His pants are still on, and I breathe a sigh of relief for Litha even as I stare him down, scared I’m going to die. His claws are fully extended now, and I know one swipe of those, and I’ll be a goner. My little knife is pathetic in comparison.

  “Get away from us,” I scream, my voice wavering now that he has the upper hand. I remember how much stronger he was than me. “Get away from us, you stupid shitty piece of shit. Leave us alone.”

  Litha is crying now, loud wrenching sobs.

  Footsteps, then, hurrying towards the noise and the shouting. Another guard stomps into the apartments and stares at the three of us: Litha curled up on the bed bruised and sobbing, and me facing down an angry, bleeding claw man with a small knife.

  “Yefrik, what’s this?” His voice is tight with anger. “I’ve been looking for you all over the damn palace. You’re supposed to be on watch at the walls.”

  Yefrik’s claws retract. Not fully, but enough to make me feel less scared. “Captain, I was called away on an emergency. On my way back I was attacked by these two.”

  The captain looks at me, standing with a small knife held in front of me, wide-eyed and panting, and then looks to Litha, who is cowering in the corner, her hair mussed, and eyes red with tears.

  “Get out of the Queen’s apartments, Yefrik,” he says. “You have no business here, and you know it. And two lashes for disobeying an order and lying to your superior.”

  A smile creeps over my face as Yefrik stalks out, his face black with fury. Two lashes is little enough, but maybe it will be enough to make him think twice about cornering either of us again.