by C F Rabbiosi
“What I do to you, what I make you do,” says Vaerynn, “know that it is to make you better. To make you worthy, though you might find it barbaric.” Vaerynn stares at the rising full moon as she speaks, mystified by it.
“Did you have a moon and a sun, where you’re from?” I ask.
She squints and waves a flying insect away. “Wandering the depths of space for so many years has made me appreciate this atmosphere with its soft warmth—” she breathes in deeply, “clear waters and bright celestials.” She lowers her head, and though she doesn’t say it, I sense her sadness for all the hope that was presented on this planet, then taken away. I can understand her situation, but I will never forgive how they’ve chosen to treat the native people here. I sigh, remembering how they’d come to us for help so many years ago, and a war broke out to eliminate them instead. Now look at us—we are all so truly damaged.
Inside the great double doors, the banquet hall is lit with candles, sending dancing flickers across the room. The stairs wind endlessly up to the sunroom, every step a conscious effort, and once there, I am left to wash the blood from my skin.
* * *
The banquet table sits full of fresh vegetables and meats, but as the steam swirls about Commander Drakon and his brood of beasts, my stomach turns. I sit beside blond Alice and look up to find Brekter across from me.
“We are pleased to be joined in dinner tonight with our two brightest stars in the sky,” says Drakon and brings a chalice to his lips. Several females sit beside me, Efaelty included, her injuries no longer apparent after she was shot at my mating ceremony to her husband. She must despise me, but all I want to do is embrace her. She was kind to me even though it must have killed her, knowing why Kassien needed to do it. Like the other females, she’s tall, sleek bodied and wrapped in black silk, her sharp supernatural features so beautiful it’s almost haunting.
“You two have already shown yourselves to be of superior quality,” Drakon continues, but his attention quickly averts as a servant woman places a plate in front of him. Her gold-flecked brown eyes are nothing like Jonah’s, but the terror and pain flashing behind the dead servant’s tears are all I can imagine. Strange how young and virile she seems compared to the women I’ve seen working here. There’s an aura of confidence and contentment around her, and a slight smile on her pretty lips. Not a mark on her. She meets Drakon’s gaze as she sets another plate down and something sizzles in the air between them. He sinks his teeth into a golden turkey leg and the rest of his heathen lot follow suit.
“What is it you prefer amongst your people as a show of appreciation?” Drakon asks through half-eaten meat clinging to his many sharp canines. He sets the leg down and brings his hands together. “This?” He claps and encourages the others to do the same.
“The word superior is subjective, its power only opinion,” I say, the applause stopping dead. I meet Drakon’s emotionless stare, his expression as hard as his rock-like exterior.
He sits still as death, and though it hurts, I don’t turn away. “So you are not superior then?” he asks, his tongue swiping over his lips. “Is that your meaning?”
“No. I’m saying that you aren’t.” I don’t know what’s come over me—perhaps nearly dying, my friends suffering, just… everything, and I don’t care anymore!
Brekter raises a brow at me, a warning I ignore and allow a defiant grin to kiss my lips.
After a tense focus, Drakon takes a chunk of red meat and shoves it into his mouth. He chews and spits out a bone, which clatters off my plate. “Small human,” he says, “I could crush your skull to pieces in my bare hand. Do not ever speak as though—”
“Great! Do it then, so you can die out along with the rest of your race!” I jump up and take joy in the way Arek’s chair flies backward as he gets up so quickly. Kraetorr and the two males beside him freeze with nearly identical expressions of confusion splashing their faces.
“Sit down, little bitch,” Drakon says.
I kick the chair backward, sending a loud crash echoing through the banquet hall. Scarlet and Glenda touch upon my heart, their laughter, their singing that could bring me from the blackness of despair to the light of day no matter how misty the morning. “Those ladies you refer to as being lesser beings carry with them all the beauty of this world you love so much.” I look at Vaerynn and my words shut her up as poison words manifest at the tip of her tongue. “Did you know that each one of us can sew clothing, cook an array of foods you’ve never imagined, breed livestock, care for and medically treat their ailments? We all know what soil to plant seeds and how to fertilize it when it won’t grow any longer. We sing, we dance, we perform out of our old leather-bound books at such lengths the entire village is engulfed in laughter and excitement!” Tears spill down my cheeks, and I tremble. “What can you do?”
Drakon wipes his mouth and crouches, his palms against the table top. “Let us see it then.” He signals to Kjartonn, whom I’ve somehow forgotten about amidst all the chaos. Now that candlelight illuminates him, I see the scar that digs through his forehead and down the right side of his face, making the damaged eye look grotesque. I can almost smell his breath again against my face. “Go get the small one,” Drakon commands his first born, then sits back and runs a hand through his long, black locks. “Let us all see how she dances.”
My heart drops. “You do this out of cruelness, not to really see, so you won’t. It’s exactly as I’ve said.” Brekter lifts my chair and sets me down beside him. I dig into his arm and his skin splits, warm red painting my nails in response to his little power play.
He bites my ear and whispers, “Stop resisting the commander, you foolish child. I do not know if I can save you.”
“Making us feel helpless, that is your great power I suppose,” I push Brekter’s face away. It’s as though everything I say is the most meaningless thing ever spoken in the world. What I find so much beauty in is disregarded as the grayest of skies, and lost on the hopelessly blind anyhow.
Kjartonn enters, dragging Glenda by the hair, her body unclothed, and I silently dare Kraetorr to do nothing while they torture the girl he has fixated on. Her face pales with unresolved blood loss and new terror, the slash marks across her chest closed but still an angry pink. She whimpers as she’s dragged to her bruised feet.
“What a perfectly bestial thing to do,” I growl and smack my plate into Kraetorr’s. He jumps, panic welling in places he once thought himself heartless and soulless as Glenda falls again. “Let me dance or Alice, if you truly wish to see what I speak of!” Blond Alice’s sparkling blues flash with warning, but she is beautiful and could enchant them if she chose to, not poor Glenda, who can barely stand.
Drakon tells Kjartonn, “Bring her close.” Glenda’s pushed forward and Drakon kneads her breast and breathes in the scent of her neck. “Your dear friend tells us you are quite the superior girl,” He touches the nakedness between her legs, and her body shakes furiously, “and that you can show us things we have never experienced before.”
She lifts her chin and finds me where I sit, and though inside I’m screaming, I give her a confident, wicked smile. With everything I am, I silently beg her to realize her worth as a woman. They can strip you bare, they can frighten and torture you, but you are so much more than they ever could expect…
Her weak legs give and she hits the floor.
“Sing! Dance!” cries Drakon. “Show us what a superior creature you are!” Laughter bursts through the room.
“See the stone set in your eyes…” Glenda’s soft voice drifts into the air and my breath catches. “See the thorn twist in your side. I will wait for you…” She pulls herself up to her feet. “Sleight of hand and twist of fate, on a bed of nails she makes me wait. And I wait, without you.” Satin pink lips part and from them, a storm holding all the pent-up emotion of a thousand lamenting souls comes forth. “With or without you, with or without you I—I can’t live, with or without you…” Shattering beauty comes to life in the atmos
phere around us, her magic realized, and Drakon’s emotionless demeanor wavers.
Everyone in the room becomes motionless, connected to an intangible joy tingling in their spirit, though I doubt the Koridons understand what they’re feeling at all. The servant girl with the gold-flecked irises wipes tears away, probably having first heard this well-known passed-down song by her father. Gerakon’s stoic expression doesn’t change, but he watches her in such a way that it would surely hurt him were his attention forced away.
Drakon touches his throat and the perfect composure he displays falters in the clenching of his jaw and his subtle, quick blink. “Impressive, young one,” Drakon says, his teeth on edge. Glenda holds her head high, and I want to hear more of her enchanting, powerful voice more than any sound in the world. But the commander tells her, “No more, please. You may take your seat alongside us.”
Kraetorr says, “She will sit by me.” He takes her hand and she obeys him, walking beside the great beast. He pulls her chair out and adds a gracious amount of food to her plate. A tremble in her reach but with a straight posture and light hair cascading over smudged charcoal eyes, she’s a vision of inner strength. She’s everything we are, and now they see it. Kraetorr whispers in her ear and she smiles.
A Koridon female comes in and sits beside Drakon, her long raven hair fading to a lighter blue and fine lines drawing out at the sides of her lips. He squeezes her hand and they talk quietly amongst themselves. An intensity overwhelms the servant at the sight of them, and she frowns, backing into the corner. I’m too tired and hungry to think much about the strange relationship between her and Drakon. I’ll revisit this later in case there’s a way to use her against that dreadful fuck. But not now. Finally, I take a bite of my dinner. The familiarity of chicken and mashed potatoes taste like winning, and I allow myself to savor every flavor. I fill my plate again, abruptly leaning over the others if I must, and enjoy the hell out of seconds too.
I ignore Brekter and everyone else, only glancing occasionally up at Glenda, noting the intimate nuances between them. I’m curious about them but also fearful; what an odd match. What a dangerous match. What a glimmer of hope.
Once the table’s cleared and conversation has died down, I look forward to bed and the beautiful numbness of sleep. Tomorrow may be filled with new horrors, but no one can take tonight from me. I stand and brazenly offer Brekter my arm to use him to escort me to bed, in case anyone tries to stop me.
“Sit. Back. Down.” Drakon’s voice stabs me from behind the moment my foot hits the first step up to my room.
Brekter smiles at me knowingly and bows deeply, pointing me back toward the banquet hall. “But I do wish I could take you up on your offer.” It takes every ounce of self-control not to punch his face in as I begrudgingly make my way back. I’m greeted by the lady Koridon’s malicious grin at Brekter’s side.
“We still have a matter to attend to,” the commander says, cuing Arek and Brekter to rush out.
“What are they going to do?” I ask Vaerynn.
“The others have to be taught a lesson,” she replies.
“But you told them to run from it! That poor boy you turned into a tortured monster!” Gerakon clasps his hands together and rests his forehead against them. Of course he was the one to genetically alter the human. He spliced him together with a wolf and maybe something else. Hideous.
“And now they will know better.” Vaerynn stands and places her palms onto the cluttered table. “You never run, you fight. You are no longer human and afraid, you are Koridon!”
A scuffling sounds down the hall, and the girls are shoved inside the room. Scarlet growls at them and walks strongly forward, while Mary-Shelly and Sybil are white ghosts and approach timidly.
Two slaves come forward with a large black pot, and upon opening the lid, a loud sizzle releases steam. Arek and Brekter shove iron rods into the glowing orange pot.
Drakon points his finger at them. “For the crime of cowardice, you will be branded upon your backs this night. Now come, kneel before me and do not suffer yourself the indignity of having to be held down.”
Tears shine down Jane’s face and her eyes dart around the room. Black-haired Alice shakes her head and moves backward, confused and panting frantically.
“You would scar the mothers who are sacrificing all to save you?” I squeeze my nails into my palms to keep my hands from shaking, fiery gaze forward but at nobody. “And what are we to say when the youngling asks about the horrifying marks riddling their mothers’ backs?”
Drakon’s mate nods her head at Arek and he pulls his red-hot brand from the embers. Kjartonn rushes forward and holds Jane down, ripping the shirt up her back while Brekter secures Scarlet’s wrist and brings her to her knees. The thought of burning fire upon quivering flesh knocks me out of my chair.
13
“Brekter, don’t you do this!” The voice that spills from my lips is unrecognizable as I circle him. The other Koridons ready themselves to subdue me. “If you hurt her or any of them, I’ll never stop fighting you! I will never give you what you’ve always wanted!” I visualize his desperate breaths as he claws into my hips, the agony in his careful thrusts, the loud pumping of his heart that doesn’t calm for an hour after. He watches it play out behind my eyes. I know what I ask of him in front of his superiors, but if he’d just stand up for us, perhaps Gerakon would as well, or even Kraetorr.
He moves the steaming brand over her pale skin, and with absolute defiance of my pleas, drives it into my friend’s shoulder. Scarlet’s agonized wail poisons the air and I attack Brekter. He shoves Scarlet aside and lifts me by my throat. “Shall I do you next?” Little squeaks move out of my constricted neck and I kick at him, the struggling only worsening the strangulation. “Yes, my brand would look stunning upon your back.”
Scarlet whimpers, holding her knees to her chest, and Brekter releases me. Sweet air enlivens my lungs and I scramble over to take Scarlet’s hand. “Never it is then,” I say to the demon holding his fiery torture tool. “I’ll never love you, and when it is found to be Kassien’s child growing inside me, you’ll never be allowed to touch me again. I can’t wait for the day!”
He smiles and spears his nasty weapon with clinging flesh back into the glowing orange. “Gerakon has not told you?”
“Told me what?” I brace myself for what already begins to sink in.
“Gerakon, why don’t you tell my betrothed of the happy findings?”
I move my head back and forth as the fresh new air coating my lungs turns to acid. “Please, please no.”
Gerakon stands and clears his throat, an uncomfortable moment he’s hesitant to continue with. He still feels guilty for abandoning his prince and now this. “The child within your belly has a heredity marker factor of 8654 towards Brekter’s line.”
“So, that means—” I say weakly. The moment Kassien mated me during the open ceremony, his cock knotted and stuck tight as he emptied his seed inside and my womb tingled with new life. It was a moment chosen for highest chance of conception, and I knew Brekter was too late when he bathed me in his seed only an hour later.
But I was wrong. I wanted so much for it to be Kassien’s, and now I’ve been utterly ruined by Brekter.
“So prepare yourself, my future mate. You will be mine after all.” He takes a handful of Sybil’s hair and yanks her to her knees. “No matter how many of your humans I mar.” She cries piteously as burned flesh infuses the air.
Careful not to hurt Scarlet, I stroke her hair and cradle her in my arms. Screams ring out, a symphony of human suffering as Jane and black-haired Alice’s skin also sears with their mark. Anger and sadness thrash around my soul and I sink lower and lower into hopelessness. “Why are they doing this?” Scarlet whispers. “Do we mean so little?”
Arek removes his iron rod from the flame and asks Mary-Shelly to kneel. I cringe, thinking of the pleasure he will take in hurting her, his distaste for us no secret. She immediately obeys and removes the shirt fro
m her back. The Koridons sit around the table so still it’s unnatural, and blond Alice and Glenda appear as small, trembling children among them. Arek pauses a moment and the branding tool’s bright orange fades. He lifts Mary-Shelly’s chin. “You are stronger than you can imagine. You will survive this.” The hint of gentleness in his voice disarms me, and I wonder if I’ve blacked out and lie dreaming on the floor.
“I’m not afraid,” says Mary-Shelly, bowing her head in respect. Arek runs his fingers along her back, brushing red hair aside. Holding the back of her neck, he aims the sizzling brand over her. Her flesh smokes as he presses it in and she buckles, but Arek pulls the fiery weapon away without a delivery of monstrous strength behind it.
She breathes heavily and places a hand on his chest, shuddering sobs escaping her throat. He drops to one knee and she wraps her arms around him. He stares straight ahead, a visage of uncertainty and more than a little discomfort.
Drakon claps his hands, a mocking of our applause, and a snake-like smile creeps upon his mouth. The torture is over, and nothing else matters. Not even the sharp pain in my heart at Gerakon’s revelation that any chance I had to be Kassien’s princess is over. Not that it matters anyway. Kassien is either dead or has abandoned me. He was never worthy of my love.
“We are almost finished,” says the commander, placing an arm around his mate’s shoulders. “But there is still one more to suffer the burning.”
Glenda tenses and slams back in her seat.
“You can’t be serious,” says blond Alice. Brekter and Arek move to her back. Snarling, Kraetorr throws himself in front of her, crouching like a hungry lion before them.
“She will not be hurt tonight. Or ever. She is my Drakarra.”
