by V. K. Ludwig
“I’m glad,” I said. “He told me most didn’t know it was him who helped them.”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out.” She wrapped her arms around her belly, gaze fixed on the tray. “When I came into my first heat, it lured a lot of Jal’zar males to the brothel, so he took me to his room. He made me luplap tea and draped a pillow with warmed pits over my belly. I was scared, barely eighteen sun cycles old. All night, he played with my braids, but he didn’t touch anything else on me. The next morning, a Kokkonian came and took me away to a safehouse and, a few suns after that, to a ship that returned me to Solgad.”
My eyes filled with tears, but I blinked them away. “Would you speak up for him? Perhaps it would help the Warlord to look more favorably at him if it comes to a trial, or whatever he’s planning.”
An audible gasp escaped her lips as she took a step back, the shake of her head stiff. “I have a mate now. Kenjun is a good male, but…”
When her voice trailed off, I stated what I’d seen so many times, “He doesn’t know of your past, and you’re afraid he’ll shame you.”
“No.” She shook her head faster. “He would never do that to me. Still, if I speak up for the warden and others from our tribe find out, they might shame my mate.”
No matter how my posture stooped underneath the weight of all this, I couldn’t blame her for it. “I understand.”
“There are many females who know he helped us,” she said. “At least two more in Krevon’s tribe. He leads the largest one, and I’m sure many more know. Perhaps one of them would have the courage to speak up if it came to a trial.”
I doubted it but dipped my head anyway. “I hope so. Do you know where they keep him?”
“He’s tied to the charred trunk of a tree, his face bloodied. Death might not be able to touch the warden, but suffering can.”
“It was to be expected that they’d torture him.” And I’d sensed some of his pain through our bond. “Can you bring him a message from me?”
“Warlord Krevon is readying the warden and the entire camp for travel. Perhaps once we reach the ship in neutral territory, I could speak to him. What do you wish me to tell him?”
Twenty-Three
Zavis
Blood dripping from my nostrils, bruises blooming on my body, and several cuts gracing my skin… two weeks on Solgad had taken a toll on me, for sure.
After they’d beaten me up a little, Warlord Krevon had loaded me onto a ship and transferred me to yet another one. Now I sat on a white couch, legs propped on a white table, inside a white room. A neutral zone outside the Solgad atmosphere, undoubtedly, which meant all this would soon become very political.
For once, I was glad.
A hiss from the automated door, and a Jal’zar female with black hair stepped inside, balancing a wooden bowl on her arms. “Warlord Krevon is asking you to wash before you join him.”
“Sure, he does.” I rose, took the bowl from her, and placed it on the table. “Jal’zar do a lot of talking about honor, but they won’t hesitate in punching a male bloody while he’s tied up and can’t punch back.”
She said nothing and only wrung the rag out that had floated in the bowl, which she handed to me. “Your kunazay asked me to relay a message.”
I gripped her wrist a little too hard, given the jerk of her arm, and eased my touch. “Where is my family? Did he bring them onto this ship?”
Dark blue eyes I could have sworn looked familiar held my gaze until I released her wrist. “Yes, and they are well. Warlord Krevon is not an unkind male.”
I grabbed the rag, flinching at the pain as I wiped the crusted blood from my face. “The message?”
She backed up a few steps. “The shimid said she already misses you, and she can’t wait for you to return to her soon.”
There was a twitch on my upper lip. “If she’s trying to keep me in high spirits by pissing me off, tell her she succeeded.”
Deep down, I chuckled.
A long time ago, Naney had told me I would never hear those words from her. And I was glad for it then, scared that I might wake up one day and realize she’d just been a product of my imagination. But she was real. That tug underneath my sternum told me as much, urging me back to her.
And I would get back to her.
Back to my family.
With a bow, the female excused herself and walked toward the door, but turned to look at me when it hissed open. “I never had a chance to thank you.”
I couldn’t help but lift a brow at her. “For what?”
“Thank you,” she simply said, then turned away and disappeared behind the door.
A warrior showed up in her stead a moment later, puffing his chest as he waved me over to him. “Warlord Krevon wants to see you now.”
I dropped the rag back into the bowl, wiped my hands on my dusty jeans, and followed behind him. “This ship is in neutral space, I take it?”
He didn’t answer as he led me along brightly lit hallways, the escape hatches carrying opening instructions in at least five different languages. That in itself answered my question, but it solidified when he guided me into a round chamber, where Torin already waited.
He stood beside the round table underneath a glass cupola, hands clasped behind his back. Beside him, Warlord Krevon had changed from loincloth into the black uniform of the Jal’zar, tailclaw leisurely scraping along the edge of the glass table.
With a sigh, Torin sat across from him and kicked the chair beside himself in a not-so-subtle invitation to park myself there. I did, glancing around the chamber in search of Naney, but she wasn’t there.
Torin leaned into me. “Remember when I said don’t get caught on Solgad? I meant that.”
“Remember when I said if I got caught, then to just let me deal with it? I meant that, too.” When something akin to a smile tugged on his upper lip, I added, “But I’m glad you’re here to save my sorry ass once again.”
“You came to my aid when I needed you.” Now he smiled, and those wrinkles he’d developed on his forehead deepened as he eyed me up and down. “By the Three Suns, what have you done to look like this?”
That lured a small laugh from me. “Played with my son.”
“So I was told. An interesting development.” A quick pat on my aching shoulder before he turned his attention to the Warlord. “Warlord Krevon, surely we can put this… misunderstanding to rest.”
Krevon scoffed and leaned deeper into his chair. “Misunderstanding? Our peace treaty states no Vetusian or human shall step onto Solgad unless the Warlords decide otherwise or grant exceptions. Warden Zavis smuggled himself onto our planet and hid in the plains for many suns without permission.”
“And the Empire is more than eager to apologize for his transgressions by providing a generous contribution to the restoration projects on Solgad.”
“Like the reunion of mates torn apart by the Empire’s occupation,” the Warlord said. “The search of those kidnapped females still scattered across solar systems. Children orphaned by the war you waged.”
Torin cleared his throat. “Yes, all those projects.”
Krevon peeled his lips back and bared fangs. “Warden Zavis deserves to be executed for his crimes. He threw the tribes into pure chaos.”
“Chaos…” Torin tsked and leaned slightly forward. “Even before the occupation, Warlords fought against each other to absorb tribes and strengthen their positions. You slaughter each other like animals, so don’t tell me about chaos and act as if this planet had ever known peace and harmony.”
“Solgad’s harsh conditions breed harsh people. Only the strong survive, and only the best among them get to lead. It is our way and always has been, but I would not expect an overindulged Vetusian to understand such things.”
Torin took a deep breath, held it, then straightened his spine. “Execute a warden of the Empire and those overindulged Vetusians will ask for retaliation.”
The chamber cooled by an additional degree for each second we st
ared at each other, the air tingling with hostility none of us could afford to unleash.
“Neither Empire nor Jal’zar can finance another war at this point,” I said. “It’ll drive both of us into ruin. All I want is my family.”
“Family,” Krevon snarled. “What do you understand of family?”
“More and more each sun.” Torin once more eased into his chair and let his fingers form a steeple against his chest. “We were a race on the brink of extinction then, but we are no more. The Vetusian Empire is changing, Warlord Krevon. Where we only had war and domination to focus on in the past, we now long for harmony so we may enjoy our families, the same as you.”
Krevon brushed his palm over his smooth chin. “You are right. I cannot execute Warden Zavis.”
“Neither will you hold him as a political prisoner.”
“The arrogance of the Vetusian Empire seems unchanged,” Krevon said on a scoff. “Telling the Jal’zar what they can and cannot do. Good thing that I do not require him as a prisoner. I have something much better.” He gestured toward the guard who’d brought me. “Let them in.”
Behind Krevon, two massive, automated doors slid open. My heart quickened when Naney and Zerim stepped inside and approached the table, seemingly unharmed.
At least until Naney took the chair the Warlord assigned her next to him, and the nebula above the glass cast more light over her purple-streaked cheek.
My chair screeched as I jumped up. “Who struck my female?”
Torin gripped my shirt and pulled me back down just as he gestured for Zerim to sit, who lowered himself into a chair beside his mother. “Warden Zavis shares a soulbond with this female. That makes her his mate and, as a result of that, a partial subject of the Vetusian Empire who wishes to go to Earth.”
That smirk curling Krevon’s dark gray lips thickened the blood in my veins. “A bond I refuse to acknowledge.”
“A bond that can be proven once she returns to Earth with us.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Something dark came over the Warlord’s eyes. “The shimid is Jal’zar and therefore, my subject. She will not leave this planet, and neither will her son.”
“My son,” I ground out. “Zerim is my son and half Vetusian by birth!”
A faint laugh pushed from Krevon’s fangs, giving it a hissing quality as he turned his head toward Zerim. “You know, when I first saw him, he almost fooled me into believing he is Jal’zar.”
All eyes snapped to Zerim, and my pulse throbbed inside my ears, almost drowning out how he barked, “I am Jal’zar!”
The blood froze in my veins.
That didn’t help negotiations at all.
I leaned forward and let my eyes connect with the Warlord’s. “Don’t you dare make his insecurities a battleground. A soulbond might be difficult to prove, but DNA is not. Zerim is my son.”
“Which is exactly why this child will not leave this planet,” Krevon said with a self-satisfied smile I wanted to punch off his face. “Can you imagine? A Jal’zar next in line to become warden of the Vetusian Empire.”
Realization hit me in the guts with such force, nausea licked at the back of my throat. Krevon didn’t need to imprison me on Solgad. As a matter of fact, I was moments away from begging that he would allow me to stay.
I swallowed past that pain that infested my chest through the soulbond as Naney’s shoulders started to bob. “You intend to make him your ward.”
“No…” Naney’s cry distorted into a sob that clenched my heart. “Please don’t take my son from me.”
Krevon folded his hands on the table and glanced at my mate. “Nobody will take your son from you. You will join my tribe with him and remain until he comes of age. Then he may find his own way among whichever tribe he chooses. But he will not leave Solgad until the Warlords say otherwise.”
Torin exchanged a quick glance with me, his unease visible in how his brows furrowed. As much as I’d known Zerim was my heir, all this had come so unexpectedly, I hadn’t considered that a Warlord might play this against us.
“There will be a sun when this young male will prove that he is, indeed, your son, Zavis da taigh Broknar,” the Warlord said. “Until such time, he will learn our ways, our values, our virtues.”
“You mean you are going to brainwash him,” Torin said. “Set him up against the Empire with poisonous talk before you place him as a warden, so he may destroy us from the inside.”
“I don’t want to destroy anyone,” Zerim whimpered, his head so low I couldn’t make out his neck anymore.
That lured a hiss from me. “Torin!”
Torin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “My apologies. I forgot myself for a moment.”
I leaned into him, letting my voice fall into little more than a whisper even as I spoke in our native language, which Krevon was unlikely to understand. “This is not a bad thing, Torin.”
“Not a bad thing? He wants to put a Jal’zar at the head of the Vetusian Empire.”
“He’s not any Jal’zar, but my son.”
“A son who clearly struggles to accept that he’s a hybrid, Zavis. And if he remains on Solgad with no exposure to our side of the story, how can this be a good thing?”
“It can be a good thing because it would force the Empire and Jal’zar to work more closely together,” I explained. “We’ve wronged them, Torin. Badly. This is potentially a step in the right direction.”
“Not if they won’t let him leave the planet so he can be brought up as a warden. As much as I agree that some sort of Jal’zar presence among the wardens would be a future to look forward to, it will do us no good if they indoctrinated him for several sun cycles.”
I glanced into the chamber at the many raised brows, confirming that they couldn’t understand us, then I turned toward Torin. “Change of plans, brother. My family isn’t going to Earth, and neither am I.”
He sucked in his upper lip, bit down, then let it smack. “You’re a warden of the Empire.”
“And as a warden, I need to act in the best interest of the Empire,” I said. “But above that, I need to do what is right for my family. If I stay, I will make certain they won’t dig their claws too deep into him.”
“If they let you stay,” Torin ground out before he straightened his spine again and returned his attention to the Warlord. “Very well, he will be a ward of the Warlords of Solgad, but his father will be granted an exemption, so he may remain on this planet with his family.”
“There is that arrogance again.” Krevon tapped a nail against his fang, tail flicking beside him. “You are in no position to make any demands. How does that feel, Warden Torin? To be at the mercy of a people you called savages before the entire universe?”
Torin stiffened beside me. “Let us speak plainly, Krevon. What do you want?”
There was that smirk again, creeping onto the Warlord’s lips. “An interesting development… the fact that Vetusians and Jal’zar can procreate if the circumstances are favorable, wouldn’t you agree, Torin?”
“Yes, an interesting discovery.”
“One sting of a male’s tailclaw, and he could seed a woman from Earth with his child. If he hummed, perhaps even a soulbond could be created, even if the thought alone disturbs me greatly.”
Torin took a deep breath. “Where are you going with this?”
“How many daughters do you have now?”
There was a long moment of silence before Torin said, “Two daughters. Ceangal and Claire. My wife is pregnant with our third.”
“Mmh…” Krevon rose, tail leisurely sweeping across the floor as he paced from left to right and back again. “The Empire will provide one woman per sun cycle from the moment Zavis’ son is no longer our ward. The females will become the mates of Warlords and their most-trusted advisors.”
A surreal chuckle escaped Torin’s lips. “Otherwise known on Earth as political marriages. Outdated. Archaic.”
Krevon stopped pacing and pointed his finger up. “Proven effic
ient throughout history to ensure strong ties between nations and enduring peace. Granted, the standing of a woman needs to be equal to that of the Jal’zar. With so many daughters, Torin, I am certain they can be supplied.”
He rose and planted his clenched fists on the table. “If you believe I am going to force any of my daughters into such an arrangement, then you are the one who understands nothing of family.”
“Call us savages as much as you want,” the Warlord said. “You might have forced our females into prostitution, but no Warlord would force a woman into such an agreement. Volunteers only. You make certain you find them. I would like to offer my son Katedo. Unfortunately, he is courting a female he intends to claim during her next heat.”
“And Warden Zavis?”
“Is welcome to join my tribe, live among us, and learn our ways.” He turned to face us full on. “Are we in agreement? Can I call on the other Warlords to draw the contracts?”
Torin sunk his head. “When I came to Earth, my mate was very… reluctant. One night she said to me, after she called me an asshole, no less, that karma’s a bitch. Up to that point, I was unfamiliar with the word and I could never quite grasp the concept of karma.” He lifted his gaze and nodded. “But now I do.”
Twenty-Four
Zavis
By the time we reached Krevon’s tribe, the moon cast its red hue across the many tents scattered underneath a massive mother tree. It mingled with the fires dotting several gathering areas, lending the flames a pinkish undertone.
The breeze carried the scents of grilled tendetu, spices, and mokhot, along with the chants of females and the high-pitched shrieks of children. Each paw beat of my yuleshi intensified that pinch between my guts. Zerim had questioned if there was room for him on Earth. How could this tribe possibly make room for me?
