The Raiders

by Angelique Anjou

  The teller looked both confused and sad. “Alas, there are almost as many tales of why and how that came about as there were survivors of those times.” He shrugged. “I assume there is some truth to pretty much all of them, as well. It wasn’t one thing that brought it about unless one counts the great cataclysm as that single thing. And that certainly set events in motion.

  “One tale was that it was so long before the men returned everyone on the sister world had made a new life without them and refused to return. There was even a tale that they warred over it—that may or may not have happened.

  “It is true, however, that for a time no attempt was made to connect with the people of that world and then, after many of the women who’d elected to stay here with their men died from illness or injury or just the hard life, the men decided to take what they needed and they began to raid.

  “They are well aware, however, that this is no life for the very young and the weak. They take them back come spring when they’re certain they have impregnated the women and the children are born on K’naiper.”

  He hesitated. “Well, mostly that is the way of things now. Drak the Dark broke with that tradition, but it ended very badly and I think it unlikely anyone would consider trying it again.” He sighed. “I do not even have a son to pass my tales to. I was blinded in my first battle and I’ve never had the chance to breed a son. When I die, there will be none to carry on the history … and none to care, I don’t suppose. Almost no one comes to listen anymore.”

  “I come!” Jules piped up for the first time. He frowned. “I would remember your stories for you, but I’ve decided that I want to learn about the machines with Noelle.” He smiled after a moment. “Maybe I could do both?”

  “Or maybe we could find a recording machine among the treasures and get it working?” Noelle suggested. “I saw something that made me think it might be that. And if it is and he recorded his stories then they would never be lost as long as the recordings were protected. And we could make many copies and keep them in different places to make sure they’d be safe.”

  They left then and headed to the vault to search although Noelle was intrigued by the last comments the teller had made. She was certain he must have been talking about Drak’s father or maybe his grandfather, but she itched to hear what it was all about … because it was Drak’s personal history, she was sure. And it might help her to understand him better.

  She was vastly relieved when they managed to make it back to the vault without anyone, apparently, realizing that there had been a good hour delay between the time she’d left the Prince’s suite and the time she’d arrived to work on the treasures.

  She wrestled, briefly, with her conscience over trying to pry into the Prince’s personal business, or considering trying, but once her imagination had been fired with the possibility of learning about his past she couldn’t put the fire out.

  She wasn’t even sure of why it seemed so vital to her. She’d learned what she needed to, discovered that what little Jules had told her was absolutely true. The men brought the women here to breed them and once they had they returned them and waited until their sons were old enough to be trained in war and then they took them.

  No way in hell was she going to let that happen to her son!

  Supposing she got pregnant and supposing she had a son.

  They were definitely male prejudicial—firmly entrenched in the belief that only men could do certain things.

  Women just weren’t equipped to do them!

  She was just surprised he’d allowed her into his precious treasure room to touch his precious mechanical treasures!

  And to taint the young men he’d sent to learn from her with knowledge learned from a female!

  Unfortunately, although she had a clear enough picture now to realize that she didn’t want to chance getting pregnant by the Prince even if it was possible, there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it. According to the teller, they returned their brood mares in the spring and she had a bad feeling that that was still months away—with lots of opportunities for Drak to breed her if he was of a mind to.

  And he certainly didn’t seem to be against the idea!

  Nearly a week passed before she got another opportunity to visit the teller and had an excuse to make it seem reasonable.

  “We found a recorder!” Jules announced before Noelle could, having led the way.

  The man seemed shocked but excited. “You did? And it’s working?”

  Noelle and Jules exchanged an unhappy glanced. “Not at the moment,” Noelle answered, “but it’s actually in surprisingly good shape. I’m fairly confident that I can get it to work. I just hope I can locate the recording medium.”

  The teller frowned. “I don’t think I understand.”

  Noelle considered it, but she didn’t know what the device was called by the people who’d built it or the recording medium either. “Imagine it as the device being the pen that records words to the book. The medium it would record on would be the history books of the people of Aiper.”

  The teller looked vastly disappointed although he tried hard to look hopeful. “Oh. What are the chances, you think, of being able to locate a book to record on?”

  “Well, there’s one in it. I just don’t know if it’s still any good or if it’s already used. So I at least think I know what it looks like … which will help. And the one that’s in it might have valuable information on it—or it might be blank and ready to record. Or it’s possible that we would be able to record on it even if it has been used if the information isn’t important enough to save.”

  He nodded and offered them refreshment as he had before. “Will you stay a bit? Or did you only come to give me good news?” he asked, smiling.

  His voice was even but there was a wistful note that made Noelle feel guilty for seeking him out for her own ends.

  Of course, she was giving him company—which he clearly missed having—and Jules was, but she still felt bad about her motives.

  “I wanted to ask you about something you mentioned when we came before.”

  “Yes?”

  “You said that Drak the Dark broke the tradition of impregnating the women and returning them to the sister world?”

  The teller shifted uncomfortably. “This would not be something that the Prince—Prince Drak the Fair—would like us to discuss.”

  Disappointment turned Noelle’s hopes to bitter ashes. She heaved a great sigh of disappointment. “Oh. Well, I certainly don’t want to take a chance on getting you into trouble.” She hesitated. “This Drak the Dark was the Prince’s father?”

  “Yes. His father.” He was silent for several moments, but when Noelle started to rise and make her excuses and leave he spoke again. “It was a great tragedy and preventable if he hadn’t broke with tradition.

  “There are reasons for the traditions! And refusing to honor age old traditions is just asking for trouble! That’s what his advisors told him, anyway, and considering the way things turned out …. The advisors didn’t lose their heads for pointing that out to the Prince, but it was a near thing.

  “It was whispered that he was enamored of her—although not everyone believed that, but for whatever reason he decided to keep his woman until she delivered his son—his heir. He ignored his advisors when they pointed out that it was always possible to determine his seed from the others—a Flaxen always knew his offspring by scent—knew the scent of the woman he’d impregnated. Even if it transpired that the child favored his mother in appearance rather than his father—a rare thing!—a man would know his off-spring by scent!”

  The teller made a sound of disgust. “Pure myth—or balderdash, whichever way you want to describe it. This is a tale men have made up over the centuries because they want to believe that its true. Despite the myths, however, a man does not always know his child—sometimes, yes, but there is no absolute certainty except when the child looks like a copy of the father. It rarely matters, however, and t
hat is why most men are content to adhere to the centuries old tradition. Unless a man has valuable possessions or property that he wants to ensure is passed to his son, there’s no reason to be particularly concerned about whether the child actually belongs to them or not.”

  He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “My theory for why he broke with tradition is that he was not the true heir—and this is something that must never, never be repeated because it could bring the realm down! I think that, although Drak the Red accepted him as such when he found him and brought him to Aiper that he eventually realized it was a mistake and he’d taken another man’s son as his heir.

  “I do know that until the day he died, Drak the Red searched for other sons. I think that, once he realized that it was not his own bloodline that would inherit from him, he was determined to usurp the changeling that was his namesake and replace him with the true heir. Drak the Dark refused to take a chance that he might repeat that mistake and bring another man’s son to his throne.

  “So he kept the woman and she bore a son for him—Drak the Fair—and then a daughter—and still he would not return her to her people because she had bewitched him long before she had born his first child. By the time she became pregnant a third time, however, Drak the Dark had begun to worry about the mother’s influence on his son. He was afraid the influence of a woman would weaken him.

  “I believe he was also worried that she would bear a second son and that might lead to civil war in time between the two heirs to the throne, that it might divide the realm.

  “He decided to send her back and she tried to flee with the children.”

  Noelle struggled against the lump in her throat. “What happened?”

  “They died,” Drak growled from behind them.

  Noelle whipped a horrified look at him, wondering just how much he’d heard.

  “This is how you repay me for allowing you the freedom to roam the castle? You slip off to gossip about matters that are no concern to you?” He gave her a hard look and transferred his gaze to the teller. “And you, old man! I should charge you with treason and have the flesh flayed from your back and your tongue cut out!”

  Noelle was so horrified she felt downright faint. It was her fault! She’d convinced the poor old man to talk to her and now Drak was going to do horrible things to him!

  It was a combination of guilt, protectiveness for someone she felt was weaker than her, impulse and sheer stupidity that inspired Noelle’s next move.

  She stepped between Drak and the old man. “Don’t you even think about it, you bully! He didn’t say anything treasonous! It can’t be treasonous just because you don’t like it! I’m sorry about your mother. I’m really, really sorry that happened, but don’t blame him! It’s my fault he talked about it!”

  Drak sent her a look as if she’d grown two heads.

  “For once you and I are in complete agreement,” he growled, abruptly seizing her and tossing her across his shoulder. “And it’s pass time I taught you some respect for your monarch!”

  Jules screamed and ran at Drak, pounding on him with his fists. “Put her down! You put her down! Don’t you dare hurt her!”

  Drak did set her down—and he gave her a deadly look that took all the strength out of her knees. “You wait here. Don’t move … or you will regret it!”

  He snatched Jules up under one arm and hauled him from the room, popping the child on his butt when he continued to fight.

  He set Jules down when they reached the door to the vault. Crouching down in front of the child, he manacled his arms to his sides and pulled him against his chest until he stopped weeping so hard and fighting. When he’d calmed down, Drak held him away, forcing the child to meet his gaze. “A man who harms a woman is no man at all, son,” he growled. “A man who harms any innocent who is too weak and unskilled to defend themselves is not a man. He is a monster and I am a man. Man to man, I give you my word I will not harm her.”

  Jules sniffed. “You promise?”

  “Yes, Jules.” He studied his son for a long moment. “As your father I could not be more proud of any child of mine than I am of you at this moment. That was a brave and noble thing that you tried to do.” He paused to allow that to sink in. “That was also a display of poor judgment that distresses me no end. I am twice your size, son. If I had been any other man you might easily have been hurt very badly, or worse … and if I see that sort of poor judgment again there will not be a lecture. You will be punished.”

  Again he paused. “As your sovereign, I am outraged at your betrayal. I expect your unwavering loyalty at all times. Is that understood?”

  Jules gaped at him, nodding.

  “Good! Because if you ever betray me again, the consequences will be five lashes across the bare buttocks—publicly. Understood?”

  Jules swallowed with an effort. “We didn’t know we wasn’t allowed to go and talk to the teller,” he said after a moment. “You wouldn’t hurt him, would you?”

  Drak shook his head. “Child! What did I just say to you?”

  Jules frowned. “But you threatened to do horrible things to both of them.”

  “Well, they both deserve to be punished—and they will be. Noelle knew she shouldn’t discuss me and so did the teller. They will not be injured, but I can guarantee they will regret discussing things they should not have.”

  * * * *

  “What did you do with Jules?” Noelle demanded angrily when Drak returned without the child, grabbed her and tossed her across his shoulder as he had before. Turning and striding swiftly along the corridor to the stairs, he began to mount the treads in a rapid ascent.

  “You should be concerned about your own hide,” he growled.

  Fear tingled along Noelle’s spine. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll let your imagination work on that.”

  OMG! Not that!

  Thankfully, the rapid ascent distracted her and made it impossible for her imagination to take over and scare her witless. She was afraid to even move once he began to mount the stairs, fearful she might fall off his shoulder and plunge headfirst into the stone floor below, or overset him and make both of them roll to the bottom of the stairs.

  She didn’t know whether feel hopeful or more frightened when, instead of leaving the stairwell at the first landing, he continued to the floor where his suite lay, strode purposefully down the corridor and into the suite before he slammed and bolted the door. He set her on her feet.

  “Strip,” he said grimly.

  Noelle gaped at him, blinking. “What?”

  “Everything.”

  “But ….”

  He took a step closer. “Don’t make me say it again—or do it for you. You won’t like it.”

  Noelle’s eyes widened. She glanced beyond him, gauging the distance to the door.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Noelle’s survival instincts warred with logic and hope. A wild idea of dashing past him and finding a place to hide vied with the certainty that she would never manage to get by him and also get the door unlatched and open, let alone outrun him and find a place to hide.

  She’d probably only succeed in pissing him off more.

  And she couldn’t accept that he would truly harm her. She might not like what he had in mind, but she couldn’t make herself believe she was in any actual danger.

  She managed to convince herself of that right up until the point when she’d removed all of her clothes and he chained her to the bed—and not by one ankle as he had before.

  This time after commanding her to lie down, he climbed on the mattress, straddled her, and then took her wrists and lifted both arms straight up over her head. She tried to resist then, but it was too late. He had no trouble at all forcing her arms to the bed over her head and manacling both wrists together.

  She tried to bring her arms down when he released them. Discovering she couldn’t, she twisted to look up at her wrists and discovered that he’d manacled her to a short chain leading f
rom the headboard.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t noticed the chain before, but she’d thought it was just the point where the other had been attached, the long chain he’d manacled around her ankle when he’d first brought her.

  She supposed she should have spent more time examining the damned thing when she had the chance. Then she would at least have had some inkling that he could chain her to the bed and do anything he wanted to her.

  While she was making that discovery and tugging at her wrists—just in case she was wrong and the chain was just snagged—Drak caught one thigh, lifted it, and fastened something around her leg just above the knee. The distinct clink of metal snapped her attention from her wrists to her leg just as he grabbed the other leg and shoved it upward and into another manacle strap.

  When he’d finished adjusting them, both legs were drawn upward and spread so wide she could feel cool air wafting all along her cleft.

  She looked down at herself and the position he’d manacled her in, too shocked to fully assimilate the fact that he’d bound her so thoroughly and in a position that left her completely open to him and vulnerable.

  Insanely, heat began to churn in her belly.

  Trying to ignore the strange mixture of warmth and uneasiness and the escalating tempo of her heart beats, she glanced at Drak after studying the parted lips of her sex for several unnerving moments. She discovered that he was slowly stripping, his gaze fixed on the dark pink, gaping—to her mind anyway—lips of her sex.

  She swallowed with an effort, wondering if it would do any good at this point to try to talk her way out of whatever he had in mind.

  She was pretty sure she had a fair idea what he had in mind, but she was afraid to trust that it was anything that simple and unthreatening.

  She supposed humiliation might be part of it.