Dark Warriors: A Dark Lands Anthology (Darklands) (11 page)

“I tell you what,” Kynan said at her hesitation, “I’ll make it easy for you. I’m a man of rank here. I have the means to see you returned. Lie with me, and I’ll take you home. My word on it.”

Shocked, she gaped at him. He just sat there, as calm as if he hadn’t just proposed she whore for him. “No! Never! I don’t do that kind of thing.” Some friend. What would his buddy think?

He gave a tiny shrug. “Is it not the thing you want most in the world? To go home? What is lying with me to that? You can be free.”

She didn’t want to be free. Not if it meant becoming that. “No. And I really wish Dagon were here make you suffer for that.”

“Do you think he would?” Serious now, there was nonetheless a mocking look in his eyes.

Not about to be intimidated, she snapped with growing anger, “The man leaves the door open to prevent us being alone, or surrounds us with his brothers. Not a woman leaves the harem alone with a man, and partly by his orders. Yes, I do think he’d stomp you into a pile of slime if he ever heard you talk like that to me.”

A wide grin split Kynan’s face as he sat back. “I’m going to enjoy seeing you become queen. You’re more loyal to him than he deserves, but I salute you for it. I’ll be certain to tell him that you passed the test.”

Test? What test? She stared at him suspiciously, wondering if he was serious, or seriously calculating. “Did he put you up to this?”

“No.” The way he said it invited her to ask more questions.

“Would he stop you if he knew?”

His smile got wider. “No.”

“Are you really his friend?”

“Since our youth.”

Hm. Maybe she could trust him, or maybe not. Though she was still annoyed with him, he was answering her questions, so maybe she’d be bold while she had the chance. “Ellyn claimed that women aren’t allowed to practice martial arts here. Why hasn’t he said anything to me about it?”

Kynan tossed a nut in the air and swallowed it. “No doubt he expects the nonsense will stop once you get big with a child.” He laughed at her expression of outrage. “Besides, did you ever think he’d allow you to get in a situation where you would have the chance to use your meager abilities? Trust me, you pose no threat to a man who has trained since his boyhood in the art of war. In truth, he thinks your obsession is rather cute.”

“Cute,” she said, deadpan.

Baiting her, he said, “And I think he likes what it does for your body. Why would he forbid your exercise, given that?”

Grrr…Hostile now, she said through tight lips, “Since you are so knowing and all-powerful, maybe you’d like to tell me how you Beasts managed to bring us here. I’ve often wondered.” Not that he would explain, but she was so angry now that she was on autopilot, demanding answers, since she didn’t have the ability to get up and successfully attack him.

He jumped up. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll show you. Boys, come here! I have something to show your mother.”

It was like a dream. Vana couldn’t believe it as he led them deep into the Bride House, passing them through armed checkpoints as if he did it all the time. She kept expecting someone to stop them, to refuse to open the many doors, but it never happened.

At last they stopped at the head of a set of steel grate steps leading down to a busy laboratory. Technicians wandered everywhere, and several fully armored Beasts stood at the perimeters, guarding the area. More interesting, two stood before a huge oval frame. It pulsed with blue light, interspersed with white flashes of lightning.

Vana’s pulse quickened. Kynan didn’t have to tell her what it was.

Kynan looked at her and smirked, waving her ahead of him. “Go on. You wanted so badly to see it.”

Adrenaline made her shake as she slowly descended the stairs, her eyes fixed on the gate. Instinct demanded that she run and throw herself through it, but good sense kept her pace slow. They could stop her too easily. It might not even be pointed to her planet at the moment.

But oh, what if it where? Hope rose up and choked her.

No longer smiling, Kynan stopped before the portal and looked at her. Leisurely, he reached out and keyed in a code on the control panel next to it. The familiar golden arches of her neighborhood restaurant flashed into view. It stayed there, taunting her with the longing for the familiar. People came and went, cars drove by, all unaware of the drama taking place just out of sight.

Calculating male eyes fixed on her. “You want it, don’t you? You’re shaking. Step through. Go on. I’ll walk in there with you. It will only cost you what I asked before.” His voice was encouraging, softly persuasive. Kind.

Horror sickened the pit of her stomach as her eyes whipped to his. He still wanted to collect. He offered all this, and all it would cost her was her honor.

She stared through the portal…and fought to remember what that world also held: cheap apartments and unfulfilling jobs; a slow death of loneliness. And somewhere, a father who had never loved her.

Slowly, she straightened. Her sight was wavy with annoying moisture, but her vision had never been clearer. She glanced at her sons, whom she had forgotten until that moment. They stared back at her with solemn eyes.

With a hard glance for Kynan, she said with contempt, “Your price is too high.” Slinging an arm around each twin, she walked with dignity from the room, ignoring the shards of glass lodged in the region of her heart.

Dagon massaged the tension in his jaw while his council droned on. At times like this it was tempting to chuck the whole kingship and stalk off into the night. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with this newest problem.

“With the way you’ve been reassuring them that they will not come to harm, it’s natural that they would start to test their limits. Your woman has set a bad example with her freedom,” Xcallion said grimly. “Now there are others among them demanding increased rights and protesting the courting process. I say we skip this foolish testing and let Dagon make her his queen. Settling that one down will calm the rest.”

Dagon perked up. Now this was promising.

“Absolutely not! The girl has not begun to prove herself. We have yet to receive word on the fidelity test, and there are other issues,” protested Roos, another member. He was usually against doing anything useful or helpful for his Tzar. It seemed to be his life’s mission to make things difficult for Dagon, maybe because one of Dagon’s dead half-brothers was his offspring. No doubt he resented that his son had not lived to challenge Dagon for the position.

“Oh, glue your wind-hole shut, you fool,” Grimlin, the oldest consulate, ordered. “You’re just jiggery because the young bucks get a shot at the women and you don’t. Isn’t fair to wave all those ripe young bosoms under the boy’s nose and expect him to wait forever. The girl’s willing, or willing enough. Let him get on with things.”

“Here, here!”

“Aye! Let him have her,” another voice shouted.

Dagon tried to contain his pleasure. If this kept up he might have to shake Roos’s hand.

The council door opened, and the bickering slowed as everyone turned to see the newcomer. The messenger bowed and placed a holobox on the table. At the touch of a switch, the events of the latest testing played for all to see.

“Your price is too high,” Vana said with queenly disdain as she walked away, her arms around her adopted sons.

The holobox stopped playing, leaving silence in its wake. Someone coughed.

Dagon stared at the box. No one dared to ask him what he was thinking. Finally, he rose with one hand on the hilt of his dagger. “We will wed tomorrow.” It was not negotiable.

“Tzar,” Roos foolishly began.

A killing look silenced the fool. “I have had enough,” Dagon said with quiet menace. “And so has she. Your tests have proved what I already knew. We will wed tomorrow. We have complied long enough.”

No one else was stupid enough to stop him.

Curses flew through his head as Dagon went in search of Vana. Kynan had done his job too well. He’d be lucky if Dagon didn’t eviscerate him.

He found Vana alone in the gardens, lying on a blanket beside a still pool. She was on her stomach, and she didn’t comment as he sat down beside her.

Dagon stared off into the trees.

“I don’t like your friend,” she said after a time.

“Presently, neither do I.”

Silence. Then, “You know.” When he didn’t answer, she asked, with pain in her voice, “Did you set him up to it?”

“Not I, but I put a stop to it. There will be no more of that kind of testing. Those who started it didn’t realize how cruel it would become.”

“It…hurt.”

There was so much tension in her voice. Slowly, he placed his hand on her back. She flinched.

He left his hand where it was. “I know.” Slowly, he rubbed his thumb gently over her spine while searching for some way to comfort her, to show her what she had gained without mentioning himself. He wasn’t certain she would view him as a great prize just then. “That boy you seem fond of…Roac. He found some trouble this afternoon.”

She rolled over and looked at him.

Dagon grimaced. “He and a friend of his were caught in the ducts above the women’s bathing chambers, spying on the women. More accurately, they were caught exiting. Someone had seen a loose grate and wondered about it.”

Vana laughed softly. “Boys will be boys. What did you do to them?”

He grinned, liking her reaction. “Had them stand naked in front of the women who were bathing. It seemed fair.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “I’ll bet the girls liked that. There’s a couple near his age.” She looked intently at him.

“He is too young for a wife.”

“Some might say they are too young to be wives,” she said softly.

Remembering a song he’d heard while on Earth, Dagon sang, “Strawberry wine. Seventeen. First taste of love…” and trailed off meaningfully. “You say one thing in your culture and do another. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel passion when you were their age. I saw the way they looked a Roac today; they’re ready.”

Vana looked down and traced the weave of the blanket. It was obvious that she had no answer to that. When his big hand covered hers, she looked up, startled.

“Adajah mene, do you feel passion?” he whispered, raising her hand for his kiss. His lips grazed over her soft skin, caressing, making her breathe harder.

“Adajah mene. What does that mean?” Her voice was breathy, and there was an unconscious invitation in her eyes.

His tongue flicked over her skin experimentally, making them both dizzy. “Adajah…one whom I admire, or adore. Mene is…more possessive. It intensifies the meaning, makes it personal,” he murmured, barely aware of what he was saying. The taste of her was electrifying, better than the finest adoc.

“It sounds serious,” she breathed. Her lashes fluttered down as he drew closer.

“It is.” His mouth grazed hers, toyed with the softness there. So sweet…

A horrific crash jerked him upright, ruining the moment.

“Sorry,” Devin said sheepishly, picking up the tray and dishes he’d dropped. “You didn’t eat any lunch, Vana, so we thought we’d bring you some.” He nudged Viej, who was struggling with the cups and insulated ewer he’d brought.

Viej looked at them hopefully, his eyes jumping between the two of them like Ping-Pong’s in a tie-breaking match.

Dagon’s eyes narrowed. Then he snorted and gestured for them to set their things down and join them. “Where are the twins?”

Devin shrugged. “They dropped water bladders on the head gardener. He’s making them weed his moss-trees.”

Vana rolled her eyes and sat up. “It would have been easier adopting puppies.”

“I tried to warn you,” Dagon said playfully, opening a package of sour chips that had escaped destruction. “Daughters are supposed to be easier to rear.”

She nudged him with her foot and stole a chip. “We’ll see if you say that when they turn into teenagers.” When he grinned at her, she looked away, coloring as she realized what she’d just implied.

He liked it, but chose to let the comment pass. Instead he spent the afternoon stealing kisses when the boys ran off to investigate this or that. Dagon and Vana were flushed from one such encounter when the children returned from chasing a furry gojo, a small creature with a croaking chirp who lived in trees.

Ignoring their mischievous looks and whispered giggles, Vana gazed lazily at Dagon. “How did you get your scar? It looks more like silver paint than a burn.” She touched it gently, running her fingers over the slightly pitted surface.

“It’s an acid burn, earned in a skirmish. The “paint” is the remnants of quick battle doctoring. I’ve never taken the time to have it corrected with surgery. It would take too much time, and I’ve already spent too many hours at the medic’s for my liking.” He looked away, but she must have seen what he tried to hide.

Vana smirked. “You don’t like that guy either, do you?”

“When you’ve spent seven weeks as a quadriplegic, endured multiple, painful surgeries only to spend months as a paraplegic, barely able sit upright, you’d hate it, too.” Even the boys fell silent at the reminder of that dark time. He’d come very close to losing his title. At times only fury at his own weakness had given him the strength to keep trying.