by Hope Hart
“What do you want?” I ask him, and he tilts his head.
“I assume you’ve heard of the prophecy?”
I scowl at him. “Yeah, I was recently introduced to it.”
“Some say that you are destined to be the qatal of Dexar’s tribe. However, if you examine the wording of the prophecy, it doesn’t say this at all. Dexar’s tribe is not the only tribe to use the word qatai. This is just another term for tribe king. That means that any tribe king can mate with you and be rewarded with one hundred years of peace and prosperity.”
Oh boy. “And you think I’m just going to go along with this?”
His eyes are blank as he shrugs. “Your agreement is not required.”
Varic turns to Tavis. “Does anyone know you took her?”
“No, qatai. I was trusted.”
I grind my teeth. Damn fucking right he was.
“Did you do as I asked?”
“Yes, qatai. Rowax is dead.”
I freeze. Tavis told me Rowax was on his side and ready to kill Beth at a moment’s notice. Why would he kill him?
Varic nods. Then his hand is a blur as he swipes out with a long knife, slashing Tavis’s throat.
I scream, backing away as his blood gushes out, and Tavis slumps to the ground, choking. It’s over in moments, and I feel the blood drain from my face as I stare at Varic, who raises his eyebrow at me.
“Why?” My voice is a croak, and I wipe at my face, swallowing bile when my hand comes away red with Tavis’s blood.
“He spent too long in Dexar’s tribe. I can no longer trust his loyalties.”
“He kidnapped me. He can never show his face there again.”
Varic laughs. “He has betrayed you and you still would not kill him?”
“No.”
“Well, as my mate, you will be treated well. I will be happy to indulge you in certain things if you behave. You feel the need to spare the lives of traitors? It will be done.”
He has a twinkle in his eye that tells me those traitors would rather be dead.
I ignore his mate talk. No point indulging his insanity. “And Rowax?”
“Rowax also grew up in Lafa’s tribe. He was encouraged to provide us with information about Dexar and chose not to."
I stare at him, stunned. This guy is a pure psychopath. I glance around at the other warriors encircling me, and not one of them seems surprised by this turn of events.
“Dexar is going to make you pay for this,” I say.
Varic laughs and gestures to one of the warriors, who grabs my arm, pulling me away.
I don’t struggle, allowing him to haul me through their camp. It’s much smaller than Dexar’s camp, and I crane my neck, scanning my surroundings. Like every other Braxian camp I’ve seen, this camp is located next to the river. While it’s dark, I can hear the water rushing over the rocks.
Worst-case scenario, I can take a page out of Beth’s book, jump into the river, and hope for the best.
I shiver at the thought. None of my foster parents were real concerned about teaching me how to swim. I picked up the basics as a teenager, but I’m definitely not a strong swimmer.
“So,” I murmur to the warrior as he pulls me to a kradi close to the river. “You want to help me get out of here? Dexar will make it worth your while.”
He snorts, pushing me into the kradi.
“Tall, dark, and silent, huh? All I’m saying is that this is not gonna end well for you guys. If you want to guarantee you’ll live, I suggest you let me go.”
“Do you want me to gag you?”
I’m immediately shaking my head, and I pretend to zip my lips, although he obviously doesn’t get the reference. The kradi is completely empty of all furniture, but a long metal pole is buried deep within the ground.
“Sit,” he says warningly.
I sit.
He pulls out more rope, and I sigh. This time, I push my elbows back against my ribs as I hold out my hands—the picture of submissiveness. He walks out of the kradi, leaving me tied to the long metal pole, and I stare at it while I wiggle my wrists.
Yup. More than enough slack to get free. But I’m not going to risk sneaking out of here in the dark while those warriors celebrate with their sociopathic leader. With my luck, I’d probably trip and break an ankle or end up falling into the river.
My best bet is to wait until these guys go to sleep and the sun begins to rise. Then I’m hauling ass out of here.
I have no idea how to get back to Dexar’s camp, but all I have to do is get away from these assholes. He’ll find me.
I know he will.
Dexar
“There are two possible locations for Varic’s tribe,” Andon says, pointing to the large map spread over the table. “Here and here.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“These are the most sheltered locations, close to running water and removed enough from territory held by either Rakiz or yourself, qatai.”
I wrestle with my impatience. Alexis has been gone for hours now. I must choose correctly.
“If I were Varic, I would choose this one.” Brix points to the location furthest from our tribe. “It’s out of the way but close enough to the Seinex Forest for him to pick up stragglers who fled Lafa’s attack.”
Andon nods. “I agree. However, we can’t underestimate him. He may be aware that we would determine that this is his most likely location. And in that case, he will choose the location that is closer to your tribe but further west—unlikely to be discovered by Rakiz’s hunters.”
I contemplate the map for long moments, finally giving in and pacing as I think it over. Alexis’s face continues to appear in front of my eyes, her expression haunted as she pleads with me to find her.
I snort. Alexis is more likely to demand that I “hurry up and slap some motherfuckers around.” I know my Lexi, and she’ll be taking this in stride. My biggest fear is her smart mouth. I would bet my favorite knife that she is mocking Varic, likely pushing him and pushing him as she searches for any weaknesses that she can use.
Varic is ruthless. He could hurt her. Perhaps even damage her permanently.
My stomach clenches at the thought, and I force myself to concentrate.
“Split our warriors into two groups.” I point to the second location. “I will go here with Brix and five hundred of our most experienced fighters. Send another five hundred to the location furthest away, just in case.”
Andon nods. “Yes, qatai.” He moves away to relay my orders, and I turn to Brix.
“How is Rowax?”
“He is still alive, qatai. He lost a lot of blood.”
“Tell me when he is conscious. I want to speak to him.”
Alexis
I doze. When I open my eyes, Varic is standing in the kradi, staring at me like a creeper.
“What?” I growl, and he tilts his head again, as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with me. I snort. He thinks mating with me will guarantee that this little tribe of outlaws will have prosperity?
When I’m through with him, he’ll be begging Dexar to take me away.
“You don’t seem to be afraid of me,” he says finally. “Why is this? Are you brave or merely stupid?”
I lick my dry lips, desperate for water at this point. “You can’t kill me if you want me to fulfill your stupid prophecy.”
“I may not be able to kill you, but you don’t have to be in perfect health when I take you as my mate.”
I smile at him. “You know what’s interesting about humans?” He stays silent, and I bare my teeth at him as I widen my smile. “We’re much, much more fragile than Braxians. In fact, it’s a wonder I’m alive at all after so long without water. If you’re not careful, I may end up dying just to spite you.”
He growls, but I see his eyes widen as he whirls, stepping out of the kradi. A few moments later, he hands me a cup of water. I gulp it down before handing it back to him.
“So,” I say. “Since you’re planning to be
my sugar woogums, how about you tell me why you’re doing this?”
Varic raises his eyebrow but finally shrugs. “Some people are born with everything they could ever want, while others are born to take it.”
“I’m guessing you’re firmly in the second category.”
He ignores me. “Take Dexar, for example. Our fathers were friends. Did you know?”
I shake my head, clamping down on the urge to inform him that absolutely no one talks about him or his father.
“Dexar’s father was the qatai. The most respected tribe king. My father was nothing but his underling.”
“I thought they were friends?”
“Silence.” His voice is suddenly harsh, a weird light entering his eyes, and I shut my mouth.
“Eventually,” he says, “my father realized he would never know true power while he was a member of Dexar’s tribe. He left to join Lafa’s tribe, working his way up the ranks until he was once again second only to the qatai.”
I sigh. It doesn’t take a psychologist to see where this is going.
Varic is almost unrecognizable right now, his face a dark red, his hands clenched into fists. He looks nothing like the composed, logical man who murdered Tavis in cold blood just a few hours ago. He steps forward, and my hands itch to grab the jeweled knife attached to his belt.
“I’m guessing you weren’t a fan of that,” I offer, and he ignores me.
“Both my father and Lafa died while battling Tecar’s tribe. I saw my chance and took it. Most Braxians would never willingly partner with the Voildi. As soon as Lafa was dead, I learned how he had died.” He smiles, and I shiver.
“He tried to kill my friends.”
Varic nods. “Your human friends. ‘The ones from the stars,’” he quotes, and I grind my teeth.
“I knew of the prophecy. Anyone who had spoken to Dexar’s father for more than a few moments had heard of it,” Varic sneers. “He was so proud, assuming his son would mate with the one who would guarantee peace and prosperity.”
He nods toward my light-blonde hair, and for the tenth time in the past few days, I wish I’d dyed it dark when I was on Earth.
“It only took a few days to learn of you and of your deal with Dexar,” he says.
“So now what? You think you’ll mate with me and somehow secure prosperity for your sad band of misfits?”
The deranged light leaves his eyes, and he looks less like a raving lunatic and more like the sociopath I met last night.
The sociopath is scarier.
“It doesn’t matter if the prophecy is true,” he says. “It matters that Braxians believe it is true. I have already gathered more people than I could have imagined, all of them ready for a new world order. Why should those of us equipped to rule be left out in the cold simply because others were born to royalty?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Dexar’s father built his tribe from nothing. What makes you think you’d be able to do any better? What makes you qualified to rule?”
“I know what is best for our people. And it is not joining with the Voildi or bowing to Dexar’s tribe simply because it is larger and wealthier. I will kill Dexar, and his tribe will become mine.”
I ignore the panic that clutches at my chest and roll my eyes. “So you’ll share your power equally amongst each of your tribe members, then?”
He instantly shakes his head, and I laugh.
“This would not work,” he begins, and I snort.
“You can’t put a cherry on a pile of shit and call it a sundae.” He frowns, and I clarify, “This isn’t about creating democracy or taking down a ruthless dictator. This is about you clawing your way to power, however you can.”
“Think what you will. Your future will remain the same regardless.” His voice is remote, as if he’s reading from a script, and he turns away, obviously bored of our conversation.
“I’ll have food sent to you,” he says as he walks out.
Chapter Fourteen
Alexis
I’m given a small meal of bread and some waxy cheese, and then the warrior who tied me up appears. My window of opportunity has disappeared. Do these people not sleep at all?
The sun is rising, brushing the ground with rosy-fingered rays as I step into the fresh air. This part of the river is wider than I imagined, the water rushing by so fast that it’s a blur.
I’m glad I didn’t jump in.
In the distance, mountains loom, impressively craggy with no snow to be seen. I wonder if we’re close to the dragon’s territory.
“Walk,” the warrior orders, and I roll my eyes but move faster. He takes me just a few kradis down from the one I was kept in, and I widen my eyes at the women who are all squeezed into the small space. There are just a few chairs in here along with a tiny bathtub, and most of the women are sitting on the floor, staring at me.
“I will be outside,” the warrior tells me, the warning clear. No funny business. He cuts the rope around my wrists, and I wince as I rub my hands over the marks on my skin. Then I’m left alone with what must be ten or twelve women.
One of them steps forward.
“We have drawn a bath for you, qatal,” she says, and I flinch at the word. I’m suddenly so homesick for Dexar’s tribe that I could cry. I want nothing more than to be sparring with him over lunch, watching him hear petitions in the Great Room, or curled up next to him in his huge bed.
“Don’t call me that.”
“As you wish, qatal.”
I roll my eyes again. “Are you guys going to help me get out of here or what? You know Dexar’s probably on his way here by now, right? And boy is he going to be pissed.”
I catch one of the women in the corner going pale, but the woman in front of me narrows her eyes. Her face is worn, but her eyes are dark and hard, reminding me of an eagle. She looks like someone who has seen some shit and doesn’t want to see any more.
“No one will help you,” Eagle Eyes tells me softly, although her tone is firm. “The people here have seen too much suffering to refuse what the fates have so generously provided.”
I stare at her. “You’re about to see more suffering. You know that, right?” I’m suddenly desperate for her to see sense. “I’ve seen Dexar’s warriors training, and they’re going to rip through this camp like a tornado until they find me. This won’t end happily for Varic.”
Another woman speaks up. This one is heavily pregnant and sitting in one of the few chairs. “We have fought battle after battle, always losing. Our warriors are few, and our qatai promised us that if we put our faith in him, we would be able to live peaceful lives.”
“You want peaceful lives? Join Dexar’s tribe.”
“Dexar is a monster,” another woman hisses, and I turn, stunned at the venom in her tone. She’s got long, gorgeous black hair, although it’s tangled and greasy. “His tribe is already large and prosperous, but it’s not enough for him. He still took you and thinks to mate with you.”
“I love Dexar,” I blurt out, and the room goes silent as the women stare at me in shock. It’s true, I realize. On a planet where it would be so easy for him to become a merciless dictator, with so much power at his fingertips, he somehow remained good.
I clear my throat, glancing around the room at the women. “If all he wanted was prosperity for his tribe, he could’ve done exactly what Varic’s doing now—forced me to mate with him as soon as we met. Instead, he protected me, giving me safety and letting me get to know him. Varic is the monster here.”
I snap the last sentence, and Eagle Eyes steps closer.
“You will respect our qatai,” she says.
“I respect those who have earned it. Your qatai is nothing more than a sad man who can’t handle being number two, without the balls to be number one.”
Eagle Eyes stares at me, her hand trembling, and I brace, well aware that she’s about to slap me. I’m not going to fight a woman who looks like she could be in her sixties or seventies.
These people are like c
ult members. Varic has brainwashed them into believing that the prophecy is all they need for prosperity. That way, he doesn’t need to do any of the work to actually create that prosperity, like, say, not pissing off the guy who practically runs this part of Agron.
The woman with the black hair steps forward, pulling Eagle Eyes away.
“You will bathe,” the black-haired woman tells me, and I open my mouth to tell her to go fuck herself, but she continues, “There are many more of us than there are of you. If we have to strip you and clean you ourselves, we will.”
I was wearing a thin blue dress when I was taken, and it’s stained with Tavis’s blood. I bet my face is also still bloody, and I’m suddenly desperate to be clean. I shrug. Fine, then.
The water is a little cooler than lukewarm, and I shiver as I cup my hands, rinsing my face. The women mostly ignore me, but they gasp and murmur amongst themselves when I flash them a glimpse of my tattoo as I reach for the towel.
One of the women gestures for me to sit on a wooden chair, and another begins working on my damp hair. From the feel of it, she’s braiding it into an intricate design, which she’s pinning on top of my head.
My stomach flutters with nerves. What if Dexar doesn’t make it in time?
I blow out a shaky breath. He will. And if he doesn’t, I’ll get out of here myself. I almost snort at that. No one could accuse me of not being an optimist.
The women use some kind of Braxian makeup on my face, but I tune it all out. They chat quietly, and I create and discard escape plans like a child attempting origami. I’m only going to have one shot at this.
Finally, the women bring forward another dress, and I roll my eyes. It’s clear to see what Varic’s going for with the color—a bright, pure white. But I can guarantee that what little cleavage I have will be lewdly on display. I grind my teeth.
The people here are living in poverty and aren’t smelling too fresh—I caught one or two of the women eyeing my bathwater longingly. And all these women—including the one who is pregnant—look like they’ve been missing more than a few meals.
