by Poppy Rhys
His hide, his hands, his mind, his spirit—they bore the marks of a long-running con.
Humiliation and grief coursed through his blood like acid, burning him up from the inside out.
Melancholy swept through him like the sharp tip of a blade etching his skin—he had no son.
How many nights had he lain awake wondering what the youngling was like? If his features favored his Therran mother or his Melier father. Was he a fast learner like his cousins? Was he crawling or walking yet? What did his cries sound like? What were his first words or favorite foods?
Would he ever ask about his father and, if he did, would Dania tell him? She didn’t even know his name. Didn’t know he risked his neck every time he stepped into the arena—that he fought for them.
His trembling hand rubbed against his chest; the slight scars raised underneath his fingertips. In his distress, he squeezed his eyes shut, a quiet whimper yielding from him before he could swallow it.
Get up.
His muscles clenched, and he didn’t think he could do it. His chest was heavy, his limbs cumbersome, nearly immovable. He wanted to give up.
Get up.
The desperate echo of his own voice in his head urged him.
She is alive.
Dania was here now. He’d scared her. The fear in her eyes, the way her body trembled as he’d gripped her, was clear.
She is still here, alive, because of you.
This wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t known who he was, what enemies he had. He’d been stupid to put her in danger that single night on Dor Nye.
Get up, his mind echoed a last time.
Val’Koy gripped the wall, attempting to pull himself up. Inch by inch, he lifted his heavy frame until he stood on his own.
His breathing slowed, and his grip on reality solidified.
A time for vengeance would come.
EIGHTEEN
DANIA
The bird man stepped into her line of sight and Dania resumed covering herself. As much as she didn’t want to be near the businessman while he was angry, she didn’t want to be left alone with the alien who’d haunted her for days.
Dr. Ullem’s word had been true: she hadn’t seen the bird man since the injection he’d given her. One of the syringes did have the replacement nanos.
“Wear this,” he uttered, his voice pleasantly rasped. Hoarse, as if he had a sore throat, but Dania thought it might be natural for him. It surprised her. She didn’t know what she expected him to sound like. Squeaky or screechy—more birdlike maybe?
He pressed a folded item of fabric against her chest, gently, again surprising her. She closed her fingers over it as he let go and pulled another bundle of fabric from a locker.
Dania’s hands clenched the scratchy bundle to her skin as she watched the alien curl his toe-talons and step into a pair of harem pants, one leg at a time. When he pulled them to his waist, the bottoms cinched around his high ankle, leaving his feet exposed.
His feathers didn’t have a drop of water on them, as if he hadn’t been standing under the spraying liquid just moments ago.
When he stared at her, she quickly snapped out of it and unfolded the bundle. It looked like an industrial sized burlap sack with holes cut out for arms, and a neck.
But it was clothing. She yanked it on, relieved to be covered. The straggly hem scratched against her calves. She wondered if it belonged to one of the two aliens since it was loose, even on her chubby frame.
After weeks on the ship, she couldn’t see any noticeable physical changes to her body. As tasteless as the hard food bars had been, they had been plentiful and she surmised they held a high fat content. The Trepnils didn’t want their stock to wither away.
Dania cringed thinking about aliens paying high amounts of money to eat her. She supposed it made sense. Even humans loved the crispy fat on slabs of meat from animals.
The bird man sank to his haunches before her and Dania froze in place, startled out of her sickening thoughts. Slowly, as if not to spook her, he reached out and gripped her hem, tearing off a strip.
“What is your name?” he inquired. Dania’s eyes widened as he reached his arms around her waist, body so close to hers she could feel his heat. He pulled back, tying the strip around her middle to cinch the fabric and keep it in place.
“Dania,” she mumbled. The rough tunic felt a little more secure with the belt, and her brow pinched as she wondered why he would care if she felt comfortable.
“I am Jruviin.”
Jruviin.
Her ghost had a name.
“Where did the businessman go?”
Jruviin canted his head, eyes narrowing as if he were confused. “Business man?”
“Your friend.” She shivered as her hair grew cool and dripped chilled droplets of water down her back. He noticed this, his eyes flicking down her body, and opened another locker, pulling out a large, misshapen rag.
“Is that what you call him?” Jruviin’s voice maintained a calm, whispery tone, yet a hint of curiosity lingered there.
“I don’t know his name,” Dania admitted.
Jruviin paused, and then gestured. “Turn around.”
Instantly suspicious, she blurted, “Why?”
“Your hair is wet.”
He offered to dry her hair? The act seemed too... familiar. “I can do it,” she stated, but he didn’t offer her the rag and, after a handful of seconds, she slowly turned.
The air charged, and her hair stood up on her damp skin when she felt him draw closer. Deliberately, he gathered her wet tresses and dabbed at the back of her neck, behind her ears, and along her temples. After, he gently squeezed the wet strands with the rag. Her eyelids fluttered closed when the smooth backs of his claws grazed her skin. They were warm, matching the heat of the toasty waves his body emitted.
To her surprise, he dropped the rag to the floor, and attentively dragged his claws through the mats in her curls.
Her heart raced. One slip and a painful accident could occur. She could lose her ear, he could nick a vein, or lop off a chunk of her hair.
She didn’t dare move.
“His name is Val’Koy,” Jruviin supplied.
As if summoned, Val’Koy reappeared, scowl back in place as he finished wrapping fabric around his waist, forming a sarong around his bottom half and tying off the ends below his flat, veined abdomen.
Val’Koy didn’t say anything as he took in the scene. His eyes weren’t entirely black anymore, green slivers could be seen at the corners, and anger didn’t waft off him like it did before.
“Are you ready?” he asked Jruviin, who made a noncommittal sound.
The blue giant turned and disappeared again.
Jruviin let go of her hair and walked around her. He gave a single coaxing nod, holding out his hand, palm up. The tips of his claws gleamed in the faint light. His palm had no feathers, but callused, pale skin.
“You have nothing to fear from me.”
When she still didn’t move, he extended his other hand, gently gripping her wrist and placing it in his rough palm.
Warmth seeped through her skin, and she shivered, the rest of her damp body suddenly cold compared to that hand wrapped in the feathered paw.
Her eyes traveled his chest where the feathers lay flat against his muscles, accentuated by the light. Her gaze climbed, reaching his dark, consuming focus. Jruviin and Val’Koy shared that trait.
“It is safer this way,” he assured.
****
JRUVIIN
Puzzled didn’t begin to describe the bewilderment he felt at the exchange between the female and Val’Koy. He must be missing vital information to be this confused. Many questions pummeled his brain.
Had this female tricked Val’Koy into believing she mothered his offspring? So long ago, in their first battle to survive, the prince had knelt before him to beg that he fight for them.
Now he knew who his partner spoke of: this female and their son. Jruviin assumed it was a mat
e of some kind, or family, that spurred his participation to stay alive after Vu’Mal’Su’s threat, but he’d never pried.
What would his partner do now that she revealed they had no fledgling? Why had this been a surprise?
Jruviin had experienced that disappointment in the past. His one and only mating had ended in failure. His egg had never taken to her womb and, instead, dissolved. It wasn’t uncommon. Most eggs dissolved, but he’d been young. The failed attempt had only added to his shortcomings in Piktiin’s eyes.
He was pulled back to the present when her delicate fingers gripped his hand. He choked down air. Her pheromones—so mouthwatering it was hard to keep his feathers from puffing up—laced the oxygen like the finest of scents. Now that she was clean, it was stronger. Nothing else masked it.
His hands, his forearms, his feathers were covered in her fragrance after he’d dried and detangled her strange filaments that curled and twisted; he’d never seen the like on another being. Their softness lingered on his fingertips.
How were they a mated pair, yet she didn’t know the Melier’s name?
Val’Koy had called her Therran. She was what a native of Dor Nye looked like? He’d never seen one before.
Piktiin had plans to spread his operation to the trade planets, and Jruviin, being part of the family business, had been tasked with sending probes and registering his mother tongue. Which was why he could understand this female’s words, and she his.
His people had no connections to the five trade planets in the past—they’d only dealt with trusted allies for commerce and goods exchange—but his father’s greed had surpassed their ingrained aversion.
Had he not been sent here, Jruviin had no doubt he would’ve eventually seen an extremely naked human.
Were all Therran’s so bald? Why did she only have covering between her legs and atop her head? The fine hairs on her arms, above her eyes, and the nearly nonexistent down on her skin would do nothing to keep her warm or protected.
It baffled him.
Did her extra layers of fat keep her warm? Did it serve a purpose of protection?
Jruviin kept note of these questions. He wanted to ask but thought it may be rude so soon after their introduction.
He led Dania from the changing room and into claims. Three long lanes stretched before them, stations at both ends, and each with a guard. Jruviin followed Val’Koy into the middle lane. Every possession from the slain fighters had been cataloged and presented off to the right for him and his teammate to pick through.
It formed a small mountain, which was to be expected from a large battle.
“Fighters,” the first guard in their lane grunted, yielding a single nod of acknowledgement before scanning the holographic screen of his station.
“Congratulations,” he offered monotonously and went on with his spiel. “To your left, you will find your weapons used in the arena, sterilized. To your right you will find all property, live and non, from your kills today. Storage can be purchased if you do not wish t—”
“Sell it all, except the live one,” Val’Koy interrupted. They’d heard the speech many times before. No need to waste time.
“Enter your identification numbers,” the guard instructed both. Val’Koy touched a series of Drinish glyphs that hovered in front of them, and Jruviin did the same.
“Very well,” the guard nodded. “Your winnings, including your subscriber commissions—after your sponsor’s cut—arrives at the sum of three hundred thousand forty-four credits.” He paused, touching the screen again. “Profits from items sold is eighty thousand three hundred one credits. Your new team total is now five million two hundred thousand nine credits.”
Dania gasped, drawing their attention.
****
DANIA
“Are you hurt?” Jruviin inquired, black eyes traveling down her body.
Five million credits?
“S-sorry,” she mumbled. “That’s just a lot of money.”
Jruviin visibly relaxed and Val’Koy briefly appeared puzzled before uttering, “Paltry.”
Dania glanced off to the side, unable to look the businessman—Val’Koy—in the eye for very long. Not after what happened, what he interrogated her about.
Who were these aliens to think five million credits was insignificant? She could comfortably live off that for the rest of her life, and then some.
“Proceed,” the armored guard declared. Dania stayed close to Jruviin as Val’Koy led them down the aisle. It reminded her of a strange checkout line.
“All live possessions must be properly tethered,” gurgled the attendant at the next station.
Huh?
He tossed a metallic cuff and a rope at Val’Koy who deftly caught them before they hit his chest. His long fingers clenched the items and something about the once-over he gave her had Dania’s brows pinching and her body angling closer to Jruviin’s side. The silky feathers along his elbow brushed against her cheek.
“Unnecessary,” she heard Val’Koy say in a low pitch she almost missed.
“Sensors won’t let you through otherwise,” the attendant claimed, yawning. “If you wish to sell the being—”
“I do not.” Val’Koy didn’t let the attendant finish, and his biting tone made her shrink into Jruviin’s side even more.
She didn’t like where this situation headed. Her teeth clenched at the rising humiliation and frustration that came flooding in.
Val’Koy turned and closed the space in half a second flat. Her limbs froze, unable to process the lightning movement quick enough. By the time Dania tried to jerk away, Val’Koy already grasped her hair, holding her captive. Held by her scruff like a puppy, the cold metal clamped around her neck.
Click.
She panted, her limbs flailing angrily against the aliens when the collar chilled her skin. Her lungs burned with every inhalation and she frantically yanked at the collar, clawing at her neck as the suffocating sensation of being trapped gripped her.
“Dania,” Val’Koy warned, and Jruviin’s hands came up to encircle her wrists.
“No!” she cried, attempting, and failing, to jerk out of the feathered alien’s solid hold.
She had been naked and crated. Now they collared her like—like an animal!
“It is for your safety,” Jruviin whispered, stepping closer to block the sight of the nosy attendant.
“Without this,” Val’Koy flicked the collar’s loop and then leashed her with the rope lead, “it is too easy, too tempting, for another fighter to take you from us.”
NINETEEN
DANIA
Dania flinched when, unbidden, Val’Koy curled a knuckle and gently brushed one of her curls away from her face.
The only sound among them was her frustrated breaths. Jruviin’s rough thumbs softly grazed the creases at her wrists that were caught in his hands. The sensation tickled her delicately thin skin.
The touches jarred her. These aliens, capable of such violence, caressed her in a moment that had her brimming with unease.
Just as quickly as it had started, the spell broke.
The metal warmed against her throat as she settled her panicking mind. Still breathing heavy, she let Jruviin guide her, Val’Koy moving at her back.
The sensors let them through, and shame simmered beneath her skin as the attendant tittered ugly laughter.
Within a few strides, they exited through a dented and scuffed metal door, and were swiftly standing upon a wide, gray brick footpath in a drab city. Her sight rose high, following the tall, blocky black buildings that nearly scraped the ceiling of the massive clear dome above it all.
Black veins of metal held the dome in place while swirling clouds of apricot and crimson rushed over the transparent structure, like a storm. Magnificent golden light burst and crackled through the rushing atmosphere, the display beautiful and dangerous at once. The dome was so massive that she couldn’t even see where it began or ended.
What planet was she on? She’d never
been in a domed city before.
“I must let go of your hand now,” Jruviin cautioned, peering down at her, feathered brows raised as he drove the statement home.
Dania nodded, understanding what was coming.
Her hand dropped to her side and Jruviin grasped her leash. They merged with the mass of people—alien species of every kind—that walked at various speeds to get wherever they were going.
Eyes leered at her, antennae bobbed nearby. Feelers slithered her direction but didn’t touch her, and serpent tongues tasted the air surrounding them. People maneuvered around them, some moving at fast speeds.
Dania stayed close to Jruviin and Val’Koy covered her back like a shadow, quick to direct her body left or right with a hand on her hip to avoid crashing into anyone.
The stinging scent of body odors created a musk that was worse than the hold on the Trepnil ship. At least they got hosed down every once in a while. This unfamiliar stench made her eyes water.
That would take a while to get used to.
No.
No, it wouldn’t. She refused to resign herself to being stuck wherever she was. Dania firmly believed the moment a person yielded themselves was the moment of defeat. That knowledge had kept her sane for weeks, or however long she’d been on that ship.
She wasn’t ready to give up hope yet, even if it meant never adjusting to the stench of this city.
A myriad of colors assaulted her corneas as they walked through an outdoor market. Wares were hawked, and Dania’s mind was promptly catapulted back to the unique markets of Dor Nye that were filled with the richness of various cultures.
They entered a courtyard and stepped into a lineup. When more people stacked up behind them, Dania inched closer to Jruviin. His feathers tickled her arm, but she ignored the itch.
Metal benches were strewn about where individuals huddled and ate from bowls. The line moved, and she spotted a window where food was being handed out.
Again, Dania noticed she was the only one there who was unmistakably female. As she realized this, her eyes registered more stares.
Covert stares.
Males gave her a second look when they thought the aliens caging her weren’t watching. Dania raised her hand, resting it along Jruviin’s back and sinking her fingers into his satiny quills. The glances around the courtyard may have been quick, but they went beyond the physical hunger for the slop in their bowls.
