The Savage King

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Ulyssa frowned. Great! Here come the ‘you’re worse than a man’ jokes. Kick a little male behind, never call them back after you have your way with them, and you get branded a heartless bitch.

  “Ugh,” she groaned. “I so need to get some action. This is getting bad.”

  “What was that, 596?” Franklin asked.

  “Nothing, sir.” Ulyssa fought the urge to laugh.

  “How are your supplies?”

  She glanced in the direction of her cloaked camp. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know, Agent.” Silence came over the intercom, but she knew he was still there. Very quietly, Frank said, “You take care of yourself, kid.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Frank. I’m just like a cat, always landing on my feet.”

  “I know, Agent, I know. It’s not the landing I’m worried about. It’s those nine lives of yours. Don’t use ’em up. You owe me a date when you get back.”

  “Dream on, sunshine.” Ulyssa laughed, eyeing her rustic surroundings in displeasure. She kept the irritation from her voice. She knew if Franklin could get her off the floating rock sooner, he would. “But I will let you buy me a drink. You owe me at least that.”

  “Done,” Franklin agreed. “Contact only if there is trouble, otherwise call in eleven weeks.”

  “Know the drill, 596 out.”

  “Command out.”

  Ulyssa pressed the button to the communicator and watched it turn off before moving to latch it onto her belt.

  “Three months,” Ulyssa began with a dark frown. “Just gre—”

  Suddenly, she froze. The birds weren’t singing, and the forest had gone quiet, too quiet. She slowly reached for her leg, blindly feeling for her gun. Her thumb hooked around the leather strap, flicking in the dried mud caked over it.

  A loud roar resounded from the trees, as she drew her weapon. She frantically pulled the gun, falling on her back as she turned toward the noise. She was too late. Two thick paws pressed into her shoulders. Fangs snarled at her from a hot mouth.

  “Oh,” she gasped, nervous. From her place on the ground, it looked like an overgrown mountain lion. “Nice kitty. Easy, big fella. Take it easy.”

  The cat snarled at her soft words and lifted a meaty paw to the side of her head striking her. As the paw made contact, it wasn’t claws and fur that smacked her, but a very human feeling fist. Her vision swam. Pain shot across her face from her cheek. Blood trickled into her mouth, spilling over her skin in little rivers. When she looked back up, she gasped. It was no longer an animal that pinned her down but a naked man. His bright blue eyes glared at her with lethal intent.

  “Look what I found wandering around in my kingdom,” the man said with a dark laugh that left her cold. “A dirty little gwobr.”

  Without warning, he jumped to standing, hauling Ulyssa up by her wrist. Her feet flailed in the air before landing awkwardly on the ground. On reflex, she kicked. Her foot hit the man’s very muscular waist. He dropped her wrist with a grunt but did not double over. Ulyssa smiled, but her victory was small and short-lived.

  Right as her foot landed back on the ground, a dozen half-dressed warriors poured out from the treetops as if falling from the sky. She squared off to defend herself but was outmanned by the gathering of blond Vars. They fought back with a liquid grace she’d rarely seen in a species, sleek and smooth of motion like ancient Old Earth ninjas. She tried to fight back, kicking and punching as she found her mark on steely flesh. But, within seconds, she was subdued.

  Ulyssa screeched, showing the proper amount of feminine anger that a barbaric people would expect. Her heart raced with adrenaline, but she never lost her cool. Heathenishly strong hands clasped hold of her struggling body, lifting her high. She was bound and gagged with swift precision. She’d been caught unprepared, and in the end she was no match for their brute force. Panting through the gag, she fell limp.

  One of the large warriors lifted her over his broad shoulder. In the Var tongue, the warrior said, “King Attor, what shall we do with her?”

  Ulyssa was suddenly very grateful for her intergalactic translator chip. She’d been wary when the Agency implanted the little device into her ear. It couldn’t translate every foreign word, but usually it was enough to understand what was going on. And, since it was a smart chip, it learned and widened its vocabulary.

  “Take her and have her cleaned so that I may examine her,” the Var king, who had first trapped her to the ground, said. She glared as he forcibly grabbed her chin to better study her dirty face. His strong body was completely naked and he moved as if unconcerned by it. The others were dressed in tighter pants and loose fitting tunic shirts that fell open at the chest. Ulyssa assumed they stripped as they shifted. “If she is anything like her sweet smell, I will enjoy her immensely at the victory celebration, just as soon as we send those Draig cowards into the ground where they belong.”

  The warriors cheered, their heated eyes lit with battle and bloodlust. Ulyssa tore her chin away from King Attor’s grip. The king only laughed at her defiance.

  “Oh, I’ll take pleasure breaking you in, briallen. You’ll make a nice little addition to my harem. If you’re lucky, I might even breed you,” the king laughed harder, prompting his men to do the same. The beefy shoulder beneath her stomach jolted with movement. Her hands tingled from the tightness of the binds.

  One of the warriors handed the king a loincloth, and he wrapped it around his waist, leaving his chest bare. With a look of severe consideration, the king didn’t take his eyes from her, as he ordered his men, “If she gives you any problems, throw her in the dungeons until I return. I’ll be more than willing to teach her the Var penalty for defying the king’s order.”

  Ulyssa grunted against her gag, glaring and cussing at her captors until her face turned red. King Attor leaned over and plucked a green plant with a yellow center from the ground. Squeezing it between his fingers, he rubbed the pollen beneath her nose. Instantly, her vision darkened. She fell completely limp and was fast asleep.

  2

  One week later

  “We can’t make peace with the Draig. They are our enemies!”

  At the sound of his brother’s harsh voice, Prince Kirill of the Var looked up from where he’d been studying his hands. The stresses of the last several days lined his eyes, eyes that were so dark brown people often mistook them for black. He held still, not moving from the chair he rested in.

  The old council hall was empty, except for Kirill and three of his brothers. Deep-set, antique, cushioned chairs had been set around a large, intricately carved fireplace. A fire burned brightly, giving the tomblike room light and warmth. Long pillows lined the red-carpeted floor. There were no windows in the old section of the castle, not even a little slit. As young boys, they had made the room their private fort. Now that they were older, they continued to convene there to relax and talk in private. The air was stuffy and unmoving, but the four princes were too preoccupied to notice such things.

  Falke, the Commander of the Guards, sat to Kirill’s left. His stiff body was unmoving in its rigid discipline. Falke commanded the warriors at the castle and was in charge of the military. After half a century of command, he’d become rigid and unforgiving.

  Falke’s counterpart and their younger brother, Reid, was Commander of the Outlands. Reid spent his days away from the palace, watching over the northern borders. Reid had a twin brother, Jarek, whom they hadn’t heard from in some time. Jarek was off gallivanting around the galaxies. The twins were the only princes with the same mother.

  On the floor lounged Quinn, the youngest, and sleekest of the princes. His smaller stature had come in handy on many occasions. As boys, they’d fitted him into tight spaces, making him the lookout or spy, depending on what mischief they were about.

  “At least let us convene the old houses and vote,” Falke continued in his foreboding tone, breaking into Kirill’s contemplation. Kirill took a deep breath. He couldn’t blame Falke for his anger. The C
ommander had seen many battles with the Draig warriors and thus had seen the most Var deaths.

  “And you, Quinn?” Kirill asked.

  “I see the merit of both war and peace,” Quinn answered in his quiet voice.

  “Some ambassador you are,” Reid laughed, throwing the cushion from behind his back to where Quinn lay on the floor. Quinn grinned and tucked the cushion behind his head to replace his folded arms.

  Falke directed a frown to Kirill at the banter, his eyes begging for order. “I’ll send more guards to the Outlands. We should make sure the borders are well guarded. If there is to be a battle, let it be away from our city.”

  Reid nodded. His smile faded slightly from his tanned features. “That would be wise. There has been no trouble in the shadowed marshes, not since father tried to kidnap Prince Yusef’s bride.”

  At the mention of King Attor, the princes grew silent. Their father had harbored no love for the Draig and each knew he’d been the main cause of war in the past. Solemn eyes turned to the fire, as each prince remembered watching their father’s body burn at the burial rite.

  King Attor had not been a loving man, but he was still their father. They were royalty and royalty had no time for love or weaknesses. As the late king was fond of saying, Kingdoms are only as strong as their rulers. The Draig are weak, and so the Var Empire will rise.

  “Have you contacted Jarek and told him?” Kirill asked Reid.

  “No, but I have sent messages through secure lines. It’s difficult to tell where he has gone off to. Last I heard he was on Tragon, but that was about six months ago.” Reid shrugged. Then, to break the somber mood, he teased, “So brother, when you are crowned king, will you be keeping the lovely women in the harem for yourself?”

  Kirill frowned, closing his eyes. “Father collected women as Falke here collects weaponry. I have no idea what to do with them all. I have no wish for a life-mate, let alone several half-mates.”

  All princes nodded in firm agreement. None of them envisioned committing themselves to a woman, ever. Why bond to one when you could have many?

  “According to our law, they are your responsibility,” Quinn said softly, chuckling.

  Kirill shot him a defiant glare and growled. Quinn laughed harder, unconcerned. Sighing, Kirill gave up his feigned anger, lounged back in his chair, and threw a leg over the side. “I tried to give them freedom, but half of them didn’t want to leave the palace. The other half has nowhere to go. And the crazy one, Taura, wanted me to bind her to father’s corpse so that she may burn with him.”

  “It’s the Roane way,” Falke said, in defense of his birth mother. The other princes just laughed. Taura was partly the reason Falke was so serious. Whereas all the others had the blood of Var and human in them, Falke was half Roane. The Roane were a naturally bold, hard people with strict discipline and rigid ideals. Taura had passed those traits to her son. As children, when the boys were playing and getting into mischief, Falke had been training to be a warrior.

  “Ah, I suppose I’ll have to at least meet with them all. How many could there be? Fifty?” Kirill asked.

  “A hundred and sixty-three, brother, by my last count,” Quinn laughed. “Give or take a few dozen.”

  “It almost makes you respect our father, doesn’t it?” Reid stood from his chair and stretched, prompting the others to do the same.

  “The late king always had respect. It was the other emotions he had little use for,” Kirill answered. With a thoughtful look upon his face, he strode from the old council hall, leaving his brothers to watch after him in wonder.

  3

  Ulyssa grimaced, furiously shaking her head at the woman who tried to hand her a near transparent gown of black and silver. She looked warily over the line of young women already dressed in similar outfits. It had been nearly a week since her capture and the barbaric king had yet to keep his word and come back for her. It was really too bad. She had a few punches she’d like to give to him, right before she ripped off his precious manhood.

  Ulyssa sighed. She knew it was actually better that he hadn’t come for her. Killing a king would not look good on her resume, and it might hamper her escape. She highly doubted the barbaric Var would give her a fair trial, or that she could win if they did. She grinned. Murder was murder, after all, and no crime would be more premeditated than the death of King Attor by her hand, for that was all she thought about while trapped in her silken prison.

  “I am not dressing up like a doll for any man,” Ulyssa said to the woman, enunciating her words.

  When Attor said he had a harem, he hadn’t been lying. She could only hope he’d forget about her long enough for her to break out of the lush prison. Scratching behind her ear, she again shook her head, widening her blue eyes at the persistent woman. She turned her back in dismissal. The woman finally gave up and left her alone.

  Ulyssa wore tight black pants and a black tank top. They were both hers, thankfully salvaged from when she’d arrived. They’d taken everything else, including her communicator and gun. At least they’d let her use a decontaminator. That was something, even if they had been checking her for diseases.

  From the looks of the preening women, they expected company. Ulyssa didn’t plan on sitting around and waiting for that company to arrive. Leisurely, she made her way across the room to a long buffet table. Picking at the food, she quickly ate. Then, grabbing up a goblet, she drank deeply of the wine. She’d have preferred hard liquor, but was happy that it was at least alcohol. No matter where she went in the galaxies, every race had some version of liquor.

  “Getting drunk, the galactic pastime of champions,” she mumbled under her breath with a small laugh of self-amusement.

  The harem was just what she would have expected one to look like—silk and satin, pillows and furs, and a water fountain in the center surrounded by fruit trees and yellow ferns. The floors were checkered gray and white tiles, constructed from a marbled stone.

  It took Ulyssa a while to place where she’d seen the like before, but it finally hit her that the palace looked much like the Moroccan architecture on Old Earth. She’d seen the ruins once as a young girl and had been fascinated by their intricate patterns. However, there was also a definite medieval castle influence at play within the basic structure.

  There was an aviary in the center of the room where a loud sofliar sang some sad song—nonstop, over and over again until Ulyssa wanted to wring its feathery little neck. She’d read historical documents about such places as harems. She’d never thought she’d live to see the setup firsthand.

  Ulyssa eyed the women in disgust as she took another bite. She was again trapped with simpering females who did nothing all day but primp and preen, as they waited for one man to come and choose them for sex. She couldn’t say they were worse than the women on the Galaxy Brides’ ship, but they were just as pathetic.

  Ugh, no thank you!

  The harem just proved once more how barbaric a planet Qurilixen really was. She was a little amazed to know they had the capability for space travel. Yet, they chose not to employ the finer technological advances in life and instead opted for a simplistic existence.

  Probably because the women would learn they didn’t have to be a man’s prisoner should they be allowed access to technology and knowledge, or at least a spaceship. Better to leave them locked up like that accursed sofliar—ugh, stop singing already bird!

  She’d been all over the galaxies and had seen many things. The Var people were still too primitive a race for her liking, but their talent for art and design had to be admired. Never one to slow down and look at the finer things in life, Ulyssa was amazed to find herself staring often at the intricate carvings over the arched doorways leading from the harem, or the particularly beautiful, symmetrical patterns of brilliantly displayed colors—blue, red, orange, gold, green—inlaid into the walls. A particular circular design was quite dizzying when stared at too closely. She blinked, reaching out to touch the bumpy surface in fascination.<
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  The imprisonment would have been bearable to Ulyssa if she still had a mission. She functioned much better when she had a purpose to occupy her thoughts and keep her busy. Now her only goal was to escape her prison and wait three months for a ship to come and pick her up. Good thing she had a backup communicator at her camp or the ship would never be able to locate her. She was deep cover, and that meant no body transmitters. They were too easy to find in a full body scan.

  Thinking about her situation, she frowned. With her camp under cloak, it might take three months just to find the site. She’d been unconscious when carted to the Var palace, and she had no idea in which direction to start walking. The dire prospect of her situation didn’t faze her. In fact, it did quite the opposite. It excited her beyond measure.

  Seeing the opening she’d been waiting for, she watched as the harem guard helped a servant carry in a large tray of what looked like roasted swine. As they grunted and strained under the heavy weight, Ulyssa slipped behind their backs and out the door without notice.

  If luck stayed with her, all the halls would be empty, and she wouldn’t be forced to fight any of the man-cats. Not that she was too scared to try. They might be able to subdue her in a group, but if it was one on one, then she was sure she could take them down.

  The long hallway walls of the Var palace were smooth and decorated with intricate tile mosaics. The hallway itself was empty. She grinned, feeling her blood stir at the hint of danger. Adrenaline pumped into her veins, electrifying her as nothing else could. Without pausing to look around, she sprinted down the hall and took the first corner she arrived at. Escape had never been easier.

  4

  Ulyssa continued down the hallways, rounding several more turns. She blindly tried to navigate her way to something that would give her a hint of how to escape the palace. The halls were like a maze, and she soon realized she was lost within them.