by Marie Dry
“You will sleep now without walking and bathing.” He vanished and she fell over onto the floor in the grip of a full panic attack.
The next morning, she sat down at the table that was stacked with a very alien breakfast. Zaar had woken her to eat what he called first meal. Her stomach protested. It was odd to see a table with food she didn’t know, and yesterday she’d instinctively assigned taste according to the looks of the food. That hadn’t worked out well for her. Her stomach still remembered how uneasy that alien food had settled in it. Still, she wasn’t about to go hungry. She stared at the selection in front of her. Something on this table had to taste good and agree with her stomach.
Zaar sat on the other side of the table, tearing into his meat.
She’d love to have some of the courage she’d had the previous day, but she felt fragile and alienated, and on top of that her stomach churned at the thought of more alien food. At the same time, the thought of not eating made her so anxious, she wanted to head for the corner again. You really are a mess, Sarah. She put a fruit on her plate. It looked like a miniature cactus without thorns. Not very appetising, but neither were rats and she’d eaten those.
“Don’t you have a synthesizer? I’d love an apple.”
“No. You will eat Zyrgin food and become strong. It is time you forget about Earth and concentrate on becoming a good breeder.”
He’d find out soon enough that she’d never be a proper breeder. “I promise I’ll eat Zyrgin food too, but I’d kill for an apple.”
She cast her gaze around, looking for something to say to take his mind off her eating. “Why me? I know you said I carry the mark, but you could’ve given any woman on your own planet such a mark.”
He made a noise through his teeth. “I do not rely on prophecies made by excitable Wise Ones.” He said it with an arrogant assurance she envied. No religious type would ever sell him like he was a thing.
“Wise Ones?”
“On your planet you have religious leaders. The Wise One is the leader of our religion.”
“Then why did you want me to come here?” She made a vague motion with her hand, indicating the space around them.
“The mark on your neck was seen and commented on. The planets belonging to the empire might be spread light years apart, but the news that a woman with the mark was found, spread instantly to the farthest reaches of my empire.”
“How did they know it was me?”
“Zurian’s breeder had a likeness of you and she appeared to have shown it to every warrior on Earth.” So that was probably why the warriors were so willing to search the camps for her. She’d always assumed it was to please Natalie and Julia. It was disheartening to think that the only reason the Zyrgins searched and kept searching for her was because they believed in some prophecy. His growl sounded like that of a tiger. “I was going to put a stop to it, but then I saw your picture.”
She frowned at him. “What does my picture have to do with it? Did you see my birthmark? Did that convince you the prophecy was real?”
“You are the most beautiful female in my empire; as parenadorz, I am entitled to the best.”
“I see.” Sarah supposed she should’ve been flattered. That was some kind of compliment, but she didn’t want to be appreciated because she looked a certain way. Her disappointment made her ask a question she normally would’ve been too polite to voice. “How did you lose your honor?”
The silence from the other side of the table was fraught with danger. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see icicles drip from every surface of the room. Slowly, his red, piercing gaze never leaving hers, he put his bloody meat back on his plate.
7
“Never again question my honor,” he said softly, his voice sounding like velvet stroking over steel. The atmosphere in the room dropped and phantom hands clutched at her throat.
Sarah clenched her trembling hands together under the table. “But you said—”
“My people may think I have lost my honor; I assure you I have not.”
“Fine, though I’d think if we’re going to build a life together, we should be honest with each other.”
Not a muscle moved in his implacable face. “You will not interfere in warrior business.”
Sarah forced her pressed lips to open and asked, “What exactly will my role here be? I thought I’d meet with the other women, maybe start a business, and assist you with state functions or in any other matters you desire?” She should’ve asked a lot more questions when she was back on Earth and had some bargaining power. She pushed down the fear. This was not the camps; one thing she did know with absolute certainty was that no Zyrgin would lift a hand to a woman. But what if he wanted to take her and won’t accept no from her?
“You will remain in our dwelling as is proper. When you have proved I can trust you, you will be allowed to meet the other breeders.”
“Allowed?” It came out as a screech and she had no control over it. She jumped up and paced away from the table. Then stormed toward him, but checked herself when he rose. Instead she made sure she kept the table between them. “You have lied to me. I came here in good faith, expecting to start a new life and all you want to do is to keep me prisoner. What’s the difference between this and the camps?” She swept her arm around, indicating the room. “The overdone furniture and stuff in this room doesn’t make it less of a prison if you expect me to stay in here for the rest of my natural life.” She’d become mad.
“You will be allowed to leave in my company,” he said as if that was the most reasonable thing in the world.
“What? You think that’s any better. I’d still be a prisoner. Do you really think we could have any kind of relationship, build a life together, if you treat me like that?”
He stood with his feet braced apart, his dark, unblinking gaze on her. “It is our custom.”
“That is no excuse. You rule the whole da…d… blessed universe—you can change these stupid customs like that.” She snapped her fingers.
His gaze went to her fingers and then he rounded the table toward her, his step deliberate. For one moment, fear held her paralyzed, then she scurried around the other side of the table. He appeared right in front of her. So fast she couldn’t evade the hands he clamped gently over her upper arms. She trembled, afraid she’d embarrass herself by begging him not to hurt her. But he only pressed his forehead against her.
His breath was fresh and minty, when she would’ve thought it would smell of raw meat. “You are on Zyrgin now and you will comply.” With that he disappeared.
“Oh, will I?” she muttered.
Sarah spent most of the day sitting in her corner, alternately calling him every bad word she knew, which wasn’t much—swearing had never been her forte and she was starting to regret that—and trying to read. She couldn’t concentrate on anything. Even the TC she brought with her and that Zacar had said would work even on this planet, couldn’t keep her attention.
So much for starting a bold new life. She’d made a mistake and now there was no way out for her. A lifetime of being trapped in this room, only having company if he deigned to come and have his meals with her, loomed ahead of her. Would she become so desperate for company that eventually she’d beg him to come and eat with her? She clenched her hands until her nails gored into her palms. She’d rather die.
She was going through her things, sorting out all the sewing paraphernalia that Natalie and Julia had given her, when he appeared again. He carried a large blue pelt, he almost threw at her, and she staggered under its weight. “I killed another eduki for you.” He stood watching her, as if he expected praise for killing some unfortunate animal for no reason.
“Lucky me, I get to have two pelts while I’m in prison.”
He grunted something and two warriors entered with their food. Like that morning they placed it on the table and withdrew. “I came to have second meal with you.” He motioned to the table.
She would’ve loved to tell him where he c
ould stick his food, but she wasn’t doing anything that might give him ideas to starve her. She sat down and grabbed an orange fruit that looked like a little pig to her. It had four stubbly protrusions and round bumps that looked like ears. She poked it to make sure it was a fruit and not some unknown live animal.
“If this is second meal, how many do you have?” She would’ve kept a cold silence, but that wouldn’t help anything. At least, beyond pressing his forehead against her, Zaar didn’t touch her.
“Four. Unlike humans, when necessary, we can go for many days without food and remain strong enough to defeat any enemy.” Of course, he’d equate starvation with defeating an enemy. To her it was a very real fear she’d lived with for large parts of her life.
“But in normal times you have four meals. Do you eat anything apart from meat?”
“During conquest, warriors eat a substance like your vitamins when meat is not available.”
“So everyone on this planet subsists on meat alone?”
“Zyrgins from the other castes also eat plants like animals.” He came around the table, pressed his forehead against hers, and poofed out.
Maybe because of the tension between them, hours later, she woke in the shower, frantically scrubbing herself. Dazed, she looked up, straight into blazing, red eyes.
“The doctor is on his way.”
“Why?”
“Your skin is bleeding.”
She looked at her arm—raw skin bled small droplets of blood.
“Why do you do this?”
She was too tired and dispirited to evade. “I just want to be clean,” she whispered.
The doctor came, gave Zaar a small silver holder, and left.
Zaar picked her up and laid her down on the bed. “I will put the salve on your skin and you will not harm yourself again.”
Sarah cut off a shrill hysterical laugh. “Have you ever felt dirty right down to your soul?”
“No.”
“That’s how I feel. Dirty.”
Sarah smoothed her hands over her jean-clad hips and checked her appearance in the wall mirror. It was almost time for fourth meal; he’d be here any time now. Sarah stilled, realizing what she was doing. He was the only person she interacted with and she was reacting exactly the way the psychiatrist said people who’d been held against their will eventually became toward their captors. “No,” she said out loud. “No.” This never happened in the camps and it wouldn’t happen now.
She’d been awake most of the night, afraid of waking in the shower again. On top of that, her stomach rebelled against the foreign food it received. She’d had to break into her precious stash of canned food from Earth to settle her stomach a little.
“It is time for fourth meal.”
Sarah spun around, clutching her chest, her heart racing. “Didn’t your mother teach you to knock?” she said.
“Why would the Zyrgin’s breeder teach me to knock?” he asked in a reasonable voice, sounding like the urbane aristocrats in the historical movies.
Did he also have a stepmother, or did he call his mother the Zyrgin’s breeder? “You said this is my room. It’s rude to just poof in and not to use the door.”
He stood taller. “I do not poof.”
She waved a hand. “Whatever. I will appreciate it if you will knock before you enter.” The way he loomed over her played on her fears, reminded her of other times men loomed over her. But she was determined not to be that cowed creature anymore. She might have to fake it, but she would somehow stop being that downtrodden creature.
“I go anywhere I want in my empire.” He pointedly glanced around. “Even in this civilized room.”
She made sure the gold-and-silver upholstered couch with its jewel-encrusted arms and legs stood between them, then crossed her arms over her chest. “What does that mean? You don’t have to knock like other people?” Why did he put such emphasis on the word civilized? As if he despised it.
“Yes.”
Her heart beat so loud, it was a miracle he didn’t hear it. If only he wasn’t so big and scary looking and didn’t hold her fate in his claws. She hated talking about this. “I do not do well with sudden noises and movements.” Hester had said it would take a long time for that to get better. But eventually it would.
Giving him a wide berth, she walked over to the door and rapped her knuckles against the metal. It made satisfying knocking sounds. “It’s called knocking and you should do it before you enter someone else’s room. Knock three times so I know it is you.”
He folded his arms across his chest, echoing her earlier stance, and settled with his feet apart, like a conqueror surveying all he owned. “Are you instructing me? A breeder?” In spite of his short answer, she had the strangest feeling that he was enjoying himself. Like a lion playing with a mouse. What happened if the lion got tired of the game?
She might as well go all the way now. “I’d also like you to make some noise when you move, so I can hear you coming, and you have to move at a reasonable speed. No more appearing and disappearing.” She casually put more space between them. Her stupid mouth just wouldn’t stop talking.
“You do not have the order of me, breeder.” In spite of his words, she had the feeling he didn’t know what to make of her demands. The room literally chilled. It was a neat trick, something she’d love to be able to do.
“I want to feel safe in this room. If you appear and disappear at will and move so fast I can’t follow you, I don’t feel safe. What if I was in the middle of dressing?” She hated the cajoling tone in her voice.
“Then I will observe you,” he said it as if it was the most reasonable thing to do. His eyes flashed red so fast, she doubted she saw them change color.
“No.” She stumbled back, toward her corner. She felt hot then cold.
“You will cease this argument.” He motioned toward the table. “First meal is ready.”
A vicious cramp tore through her stomach. She doubled over, bile in her throat. He grated something in his language she barely heard above the roaring in her ears. She became airborne and he gently laid her down. Another groan escaped her. It hurt so much, she didn’t even care that she lay on a bed with a large male standing over her.
The doctor was there, and he and Zaar grunted at each other for a long time. Sarah lay curled into a miserable ball. What if her body never learn to process the alien food? She’d starved enough. How long would the stash of tinned food last if she had to eat some of it every day?
“Be calm, my breeder, the doctor will heal your stomach.” There was a definite or else in his words. She pitied the poor doctor if her stomach didn’t get better.
The doctor handed Zaar an injection and left, and Zaar pressed it against her neck. “Is the pain gone? The injection should give instant relief.” He reached out to put his hand on her aching stomach. His touch was warm and it relaxed her bunched muscles. It was also unbearably intimate.
Sarah jumped up and away from him, ignoring the faint echoes of pain that remained. “I’m much better—we can have our meal now.” It took all her willpower not to cringe at the thought of consuming more alien food.
With his eyes narrowed, he stood, and giving her plenty of space, went to the table. It was strange—he held all the power, but in that moment, he looked lonelier than she’d ever felt these last few weeks. She shrugged off that thought—she wouldn’t feel sorry for him. They sat down and he said, “The doctor tells me our food does not agree with you. That is why your stomach ached.” He said it the same way he’d say, “I heard you committed murder.”
“The synthesizers on Earth can make Earth food. Surely you can change the settings to make the synthesizers here produce Earth food. I’d love to taste an apple.” She’d never synthesized one when she was in the guesthouse. She’d had this exotic idea of asking Natalie if she could find her an apple tree to plant, so that she could eat one fresh off the tree. She sighed at the thought of biting into a juicy, red apple. She should’ve synthesized one whi
le she had the chance.
He motioned to the covered dish in front of her. “First you will try different Zyrgin foods until you find something that agrees with you.” He took a bloody bite of his meat and chewed before he said, “I will only consent to foreign food on Zyrgin if you cannot digest any of our food.”
She clutched her hands over her delicate stomach. “Why are you so set on me not having contact with my home or even eating familiar food?” She still smarted over his refusal to let her talk to Julia and Natalie.
“I will not have a breeder insisting on foreign ways.” Sometimes she had the feeling she was being punished for another’s sins. “The doctor will observe and cure you if you have pain again.”
Taking a deep breath for courage, she lifted the lid hiding some Zyrgin dish. Why did her stomach refuse to accept Zyrgin food? She’d always eaten anything put in front of her. She’d eaten rats and bugs without such violent consequences. A heavy aroma assaulted her nose and she suppressed a moan of pure pleasure. Six, white, perfectly round balls lay in a yellowish sauce. It reminded her of some of the puddings Natalie made.
Resigned to another bout of stomach ache, she found a fork-like utensil in front of her plate and used that to break off a miniscule piece of the white ball. It took a lot of willpower to put it in her mouth. Delicious flavors exploded on her tongue. Sarah closed her eyes and moaned, a long, hard moan she couldn’t suppress. She tasted heaven on her tongue.
She opened her eyes and blinked. Zaar crouched in front of her. The doctor stood behind him. He lifted a silver object in front of her, scanning her?
Sarah felt her eyes widen; she’d seen Zaar move, so she knew he could get anywhere he wanted in an instant. “How did the doctor get here so fast?”
“I instructed him to wait outside the door in case you have problems. He will prepare another injection for you.”
