by Hope Hart
As an adult, I can admit that it made me strong. This is just another difficult situation that I need to figure my way out of.
First step? Convincing this guard to give me a tour of the camp.
When I finally peeked my head out of the long piece of material that’s used as a door, there was only one guard standing outside.
He’s younger than any of the other Braxian warriors I’ve seen since I arrived, and I half expect his voice to crack. While he’s huge and no doubt deadly in a fight, his face lacks the hardness that most warriors seem to have.
“I just have no idea what time it is, you know? I need some fresh air. Maybe you could…show me around?”
My hand rises on his chest as he sucks in a breath, and I barely suppress a grin as the tips of his ears turn red.
“Tavis,” a deep voice says, and I turn as another guard walks toward me.
I drop back down from my tiptoes and size up the guy.
Not ideal.
This guard gives my new friend, Tavis, a hard look, and Tavis steps back to his spot by the wall.
“Can I help you with something, qatal?”
I frown at that, and the guard seems to catch himself.
“What would you like us to call you?” he asks.
“Alexis.”
He hesitates, and I smile. I’ve got his number. This guard is going to be trouble for me. He’s one of those brownnosers who could probably quote from the employee handbook if he were on Earth. Plus, I can almost picture him yelling at me to take off my shoes as I make my way through security at an airport.
He chooses not to repeat my name, and I feel my smile widen.
“And your name?” I ask.
“Rowax.”
“Rowax,” I purr, and his face stays blank. “I’d really like to go outside. I was wondering if Tavis here could show me around. I’d really…appreciate it.”
I’m laying it on way too thick, and Rowax raises one eyebrow, obviously not impressed. Tavis, however, blushes so deeply that I could probably cook an egg on his face.
Aw.
“I will take you outside,” Rowax says, and I smile brightly, although I’m mentally cursing. This guy is a hard-ass.
“Sounds lovely.”
All the dresses in the huge wooden trunk were similar. Thin, gauzy, and mostly brightly colored. The aqua-colored dress I’m currently in is embroidered with the same gold thread that decorates the door to my room. I’ve paired it with a light cloak and matching slippers, but one thing became clear as I rummaged through the clothes. There are no clothes that would protect me from the elements if I decided to take off.
I’m obviously expected to be an inside pet.
Good fucking luck with that, Dexar.
I don’t know why he wants me here, especially since I made it clear that sex was off the table. Sure, this tribe may be lacking in women, but I fail to see how one human woman is going to turn the tide.
Then there’s Yari’s strange proclamation from last night.
“We’ve been waiting for you for such a long time.”
Just what exactly does that mean? When I pressed her, she clammed up and left the room, while Nara stood white-faced and clearly upset in the corner.
This place is a mystery on top of a mystery, with a heaping helping of confusion on top.
I mull this over while Rowax leaves Tavis on the door and leads me out of the kradi. I attempt to memorize the way out, but after a few long minutes of walking and multiple twists and turns, I give up.
“What do you guys do if there’s a fire or something?” I ask.
“There are many hidden exits.”
Hope sparks in my chest. “Feel like showing me some of those in case I need to get out of here in a hurry?”
One look at Rowax’s craggy face and that hope dies.
“You will always be guarded by trusted warriors who know where to find the exits.”
I grind my teeth but stay silent as we reach another pair of guards, and Rowax nods to them. One of them pushes open a flap of the kradi that looks exactly like the rest of the material walls, and we’re suddenly outside.
We didn’t go through the massive room where I first met Dexar. I wonder how many rooms and exits there are in this place. I need some kind of map.
The sun has only recently risen, and while it’s warm on my face, I’m grateful for the cloak. Rowax leads me down a long path, and I attempt to ignore the staring. While it’s early, much of the camp is already up and going about their lives, and I’m obviously the hot new topic of conversation.
We pass the training arena, which looks similar to the one in Rakiz’s camp, only larger. For a moment, I expect to see Nevada taking lessons from Asroz, her sword in her hand and a fierce look of concentration on her face.
In Rakiz’s camp, the weapons kradi was located close to the training arena, although not right next to it. I keep my eyes peeled as we wander and Rowax points out crap I couldn’t care less about—like the seamstress and food kradis.
Cool story, but where are the weapons at?
“Where are the mishua?” I ask.
Rowax tilts his head and points toward the other side of camp. Just like the last camp, this one is located next to a river, and the mishua are kept close to the water, with the training arena on the opposite side. Dexar’s kradi is located smack-dab in the middle of the camp, which is bad news for me if I need to haul ass out of here.
I can’t ask about the weapons. If there’s one thing I learned at the last camp, when Nevada almost started a riot, it’s that females don’t walk around armed on this planet.
Rowax is already looking at me with suspicion in his eyes.
“Can we walk around the outside of the camp?” I ask. “I’d like some exercise.”
He shakes his head, and I sigh.
“What about a loop inside the camp walls?”
While the Braxian people are mostly nomadic, this camp seems to be more permanent than Rakiz’s camp. The walls around it look like stone, for one thing, and I can’t imagine them being rebuilt every few months if the tribe is on the move.
But what do I know about a barbaric alien tribe?
Rowax pauses. “I don’t suggest you attempt to escape, qa-Alexis,” he finishes, looking slightly flustered. Then his face hardens again. “You agreed to stay here for one revolution.”
I grind my teeth and look away while I try to keep my cool. “I did.” I smile. “And I have no intention of leaving. I just want to get to know my new home.”
Rowax doesn’t look convinced. He better not be a permanent fixture outside my door. If so, the first thing I’ll need to do is somehow arrange for him to be replaced.
Sure, I agreed to stay here. But everyone knows that deals made under duress don’t count. For now, I’ll stay put, but as soon as the other women are found, I need to get my fine ass to that ship.
There’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to fix it, of course. Sure, I may be an astronautical engineer on Earth, but as we learned when the Arcav invaded, our technology is laughable compared to what they take for granted.
One thing I noticed when we were on that ship? It was practically falling apart. So, even if it could theoretically be fixed, the chances aren’t great that I would be able to get my hands on the right parts.
I lock that conjecture away in my Vault of Unpleasant Thoughts. No point worrying about it until I can actually see what I’m working with.
“Alexis?”
“Sorry, I was daydreaming. As I said, I really just want to look around.”
“It will have to wait,” Rowax replies, nodding at another warrior, who has approached while I was woolgathering. “The qatai has asked you to join him for the midday meal.”
Alexis
Yari is waiting for me when I arrive back in my rooms, slightly annoyed by Rowax’s refusal to show me the things I need to see.
The annoyance is warring with the weird feeling in my chest at the thought of seeing Dexar
again. I don’t know what he wants with me, but I’m fixated on the confident way he declared that females beg him for a “tumble.”
Challenge accepted.
No, Alexis. Think with your brain and not with your pussy.
One thing I’ve learned about sexy, arrogant men? While they can be fun in bed—if they can put their money where their mouths are—they’re rarely worth the experience. That arrogance quickly translates into smug self-importance, and before you know it, they’re bossing you around, all while standing you up and engaging in some good old-fashioned gaslighting.
No, thanks.
Not to mention, this guy is a king. You know what that means? He’s never had to work to please a woman. Sure, he may have women falling over themselves to climb into his bed, but once there, I bet they quickly realize that the cake just ain’t worth the bake.
I snigger as I imagine him lying on his back, hands folded behind his head as a faceless woman does all the work in bed.
My mind replaces the woman’s face with my own, and I shut that thought down.
Nope, nope, nope.
“Did you say something?”
I blink at Yari, who has insisted I change into another dress. I attempted to explain to her that I’d been wearing this one for approximately thirty minutes, but she declared that it wasn’t elegant enough for a meal with the king.
The more I learn about this guy, the less I like.
“Tell me about yourself, Yari,” I say, desperate to think about anything except sitting across a table from Dexar.
She smiles at me, the lines around her eyes deepening. “What would you like to know? No, not that way. Let me do it.”
She brushes my hands aside and ties the new dress at the back. This one is a deep purple, but other than a little more gold sewn into the fabric and slightly longer sleeves, it’s almost identical to the one I was just wearing.
“Do you have kids? Children,” I clear up when she frowns in confusion.
Her frown disappears. “I do. Three sons, all of them with sons of their own. Unfortunately, none of them have been blessed with daughters.”
“I’ve heard it seems to be a problem on this planet.”
She nods sadly. “I don’t know if my sons’ sons will have a chance to find mates. Their generation is the worst yet, with so few females born that our people seem destined to disappear from this planet.”
“I’m sorry.”
Not for the first time, I wonder what could’ve led to such a relatively sudden decrease in female babies. Since I’m going to be here for at least a few weeks, maybe I can do some research and leave it with the tribe when I move on. My ego isn’t large enough that I imagine I’ll be able to solve such a massive problem, but maybe my background in science can help in some small way.
Sometimes, the best breakthroughs come from getting a slightly different point of view.
“I will show you to the qatai’s rooms,” Yari says.
I nod, and then I’m frowning as Yari heads into my bedroom instead of moving back toward the entrance. I follow her like a lost lamb, and my mouth falls open as she moves her hand, revealing yet another hidden doorway.
This tiny corridor is smaller and more dimly lit than any of the others I’ve walked down so far. It only takes us a few steps before Yari is showing me another doorway, gesturing for me to step inside.
“I will return to your rooms. Enjoy your meal.”
I almost beg her not to leave me as my hands begin to shake. I scowl. Why am I suddenly as nervous as a bride on her wedding night?
I shake off the nerves and stride through the doorway and into a large room. A long table sits in the middle of the room, with enough space to seat eight people. To the left, Dexar is slouched on a chair that sits low to the ground. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he studies a long piece of paper before rolling it up as his green gaze meets mine.
It’s the first paper I’ve seen on this planet, and my hands itch to touch it. I want to know which material these people make their paper out of, and I’d love to examine the language they write in.
Dexar gets to his feet, and I’m struck by the smooth roll of muscles as he stands. The guy sure is built. But as much as he gives the impression of indolence with his inability to sit in a chair without sprawling in it, I’m not fooled. His body seems tightly coiled, and I have no doubt that he could strike faster than a snake if threatened.
“Welcome,” he says.
I don’t know what to say, so I shuffle my feet. Something about him turns me into an uncertain, slightly irrational mess.
We both turn as a bell sounds, and four servants begin lifting trays onto the long table.
“Are you hungry?” Dexar asks.
I nod, still watching as the food is laid out. “I can’t possibly eat all that.”
Dexar simply smiles, his eyes laughing at me, and I look away.
“Try,” he says, striding toward the table. He thanks the servants, and they bow before silently moving out of the room and leaving us alone.
I take my seat, and Dexar places a few things on my plate before doing the same to his own. I reach for a glass of water, wishing desperately for it to turn into wine.
Dexar seems to be okay with my silence, but his steady gaze is disconcerting.
“What?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
I hate it when people answer a question with a question. Dexar seems to read my mind because a dimple appears in his cheek.
“Yes,” I say, and he leans back, running his eyes over me.
I take a bite of some kind of greens. They’ve been cooked in a savory sauce, and I immediately take another bite. Yum.
“I find that I enjoy watching you eat,” he says.
As much as I know people, and as good as I am at predicting their behavior, this man is a complete mystery to me.
The scientist in me wants to figure him out.
The woman in me just wants him.
We talked about this, Alexis.
“Why am I really here?” I ask.
Dexar takes a sip of his drink, and I attempt to ignore the way the muscles in his throat move as he swallows.
“I told you. I want you where I can see you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
He shrugs again. “We’re getting to know each other now, are we not?”
I try another approach. “One of the women said, ‘We’ve been waiting a long time for you.’ What does that mean?”
The qatai stares me straight in the face. “I have no idea.”
I’m positive he’s lying, but I don’t know why.
I stare back at him. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why would I lie to you?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
I grit my teeth and then force myself to sit back and take another bite. The meat is tender and perfectly cooked, and I attempt to ignore the feel of his eyes on me as I eat it.
For some reason, I can’t seem to find the ability to pull my “butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth” flirty act with this man. Something tells me he wouldn’t believe it even if I tried.
“What do you think of this planet?”
The change of subject isn’t exactly smooth, but he’s obviously not going to give me any information about why he wants me here.
I shrug, mimicking him, and he flashes his teeth at me as he smiles.
“It’s…fine. It’s very different to Earth.”
“Different how?”
I spend the next few minutes explaining some of the ways my planet works. The qatai can’t seem to reconcile the concept of democracy, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.
I narrow my eyes at him. “How many people belong to this tribe?”
“Eighty-two thousand six hundred and seventy-one. Seventy-two,” he corrects with a smile. “Veris just welcomed a son into the world.”
I try not to be impressed with the fact that he knows
exactly how many people are in his tribe down to the last birth. “What makes you certain that you should be the one to rule so many people?”
“My father ruled, and his father ruled another tribe before him.” His tone changes at the mention of the other tribe, warning me not to press further.
“So just because you happen to have been fathered by a tribe king, you believe you’re uniquely suited to decide what’s best for so many people?”
He tilts his head. “Yes. I was raised to think about what is best for my people since I was old enough to understand who my father was. Under my rule, this tribe has strengthened, and none would dare attack us. My people are happy.”
Arrogance coats his words like honey on a knife, and I raise an eyebrow but say nothing.
This seems to frustrate him because he frowns, leaning forward. “Who makes decisions about what actions are best for the people on your planet?”
Never could I have imagined that I’d be explaining the concept of democracy to a tribe king on a barbaric planet. I pinch myself on the thigh under the table.
Ouch. Yup, definitely not dreaming.
“The people elect leaders who they trust to make these decisions for them. They vote for what they want.”
“Vote.”
I laugh as Dexar mangles the word in English. Obviously, the translator in his ear has failed. There’s no word for the concept in Braxian.
He leans closer, giving me a slow smile. “Do that again,” he murmurs.
“Do what?” My voice is hoarse. That smile of his…
“Laugh.”
I stare at him, confused, and we’re silent for a long moment.
“I want to be able to walk around the camp by myself,” I say, and his face shuts down. Any hint of humor leaves his eyes, and he becomes the ruthless qatai who negotiated for my lack of freedom.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too dangerous.”
I take a deep breath. Yelling at him will just erase any ground I’ve gained during this conversation. Dexar obviously sees me as some kind of bargaining chip. I need to make him understand that I’m a woman.
“Why would it be dangerous?” I ask, genuinely confused.
