by Sue Lyndon
He traced the words on each earmarked page, desperately trying to preserve the most recent memories of his beloved wife. But as his thumb moved across the words, he felt as though the very essence of Shessema was slipping through his fingers like sand.
Placing the book aside, he stormed through the house and into his study, where he kept his battleplans, weapons, and spare armor and warrior uniforms. He perused the weapons one by one, picking them up and imagining each as his tool for vengeance.
Perhaps he would use his sword or his battle-ax or maybe a long dagger.
He breathed long and deep, focusing on his bloodlust, because when he gave himself over to the anger and his unwavering desire for revenge, it served as a distraction and eased the sharpness of his grief. It gave him a purpose.
But perhaps it would be a mistake to kill the human female called Layla too quickly. Perhaps he would keep her alive for a few days, torturing her slowly before finally inflicting her with a fatal wound.
He grabbed his favorite sword and began to methodically sharpen the blade.
Chapter 3
Three months later…
A sense of doom settled upon Layla as she peered around the Kall courtroom. How Ambassador Merokk had managed to have her hearing postponed for three full months, she still didn’t know, but she doubted the delay would make a difference. From her studies of Kall culture, she knew without question what would happen today. A shudder passed through her and she blinked against the burn of tears.
Hopeless. She felt utterly hopeless, and so very afraid.
Kall warriors started filing into the courtroom, as well as some human reporters. She turned around to scan the growing crowd. Merokk caught her eye and shot her a comforting look from where he was seated behind her. She tried to return his smile, but her lips ended up quivering and a few tears escaped to roll down her cheeks. She hastily wiped them away.
She turned back around to find the judge had taken his seat. Her stomach tightened with fear. It was Judge Commak—the same elderly judge who’d sentenced Betsy to a lifetime of slavery on the Kall homeworld. His blue eyes gleamed with malice and she quickly looked away.
From what she could tell, General Zamek hadn’t arrived yet. There was a seat near the judge that remained empty, and she thought it must be meant for him. She’d never actually attended a Ruling for Retribution before, but she knew the grieving party sat near the judge.
Two Kall warriors bustled past her carrying a rolled up white tarp. She watched them begin to unroll it and horror clutched her. They were placing a huge tarp on the floor to contain the mess of her execution—if General Zamek decided to kill her on the spot after the judge’s ruling.
“It’s all right, Layla,” Merokk murmured. “He’s had three moon cycles to come to his senses. I’ve known the general for years and I believe he is a fair male. He won’t kill you.”
Oh, how she wanted to believe Merokk. But he hadn’t permitted Fiona to attend today’s hearing, and she suspected this was the reason why—he didn’t wish for Fiona to witness her execution.
At least she’d managed to exchange a few messages with Betsy recently, thanks to Merokk’s kindness, and she’d been able to send a goodbye letter to her friend as well. She’d sent the farewell note just this morning, trying to keep it as upbeat as possible even though the act of writing it had broken her heart. She’d included all her favorite memories spent with Betsy, to remind her friend of the good times they’d shared—like how they’d instantly bonded as roommates at Harvard after discovering they’d both brought the same brand of coffee ice cream to stock the fridge on move-in day.
What Layla wouldn’t give to go back in time to that day and redo the rest of her life up until this point. God, if only.
The deep rustling sound of the tarp being spread out brought her back to reality, and she shivered at the sight. Once the guards finished spreading the tarp out, they moved to stand along the wall near the podium.
I’m going to die today.
This realization brought more tears to her eyes. She wished she could be brave right now and hold her head high and not shed a single tear, but try as she might, she couldn’t even get her hands to stop shaking.
She still hadn’t fully processed Michael’s death, nor the violent act he’d committed before jumping off that bridge and into the Potomac River. Guilt visited her whenever she thought of that day. She’d suspected he was involved with the rebels and she’d known he hated the Kall, but she had never imagined he might stab an innocent Kall female to death in the streets.
When she’d pictured him helping the rebels, she imagined he would help attack Kall patrols or target other Kall defenses. But even then, she’d had a difficult time picturing him being moved to such violence. Murdering a defenseless Kall female though? It was so cold-blooded that if Merokk hadn’t shown her the surveillance video leading up to the attack, she wouldn’t have believed Michael capable of such dark viciousness.
She wiped at her tears and straightened in her seat, wondering when the hearing would begin. Why hadn’t General Zamek arrived yet? And what would happen to her if the general didn’t show up today? Hope started to push away her fear. Surely, if he wanted to see her suffer for Michael’s crimes, he would be here by now. Maybe Merokk was right—maybe he’d come to his senses and didn’t plan to kill her, and therefore didn’t even wish to show up for today’s hearing.
The murmuring in the courtroom became louder. Occasionally, a nasty remark spoken in Kall reached her ears. While the alien language was difficult for humans to master, she could understand most dialects of it, though she had a hard time speaking some of those dialects. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself, as the murmurings from the courtroom continued to reach her ears.
Stupid rebel female—she deserves to die.
I think the general will kill her quickly—likely with his sword.
Five hundred galactic credits says he’ll torture her first.
I hope General Zamek slices her to pieces.
Layla’s stomach bottomed out. She swallowed hard and clutched the armrests of her chair.
Was this really how it would end?
She’d devoted her life to becoming an expert in Kall culture and had worked to keep peace between Earth and planet Kall during her time as an advisor to President Carson. To think that she would meet her end at the hands of the aliens she’d once admired was more than unsettling. It was heartbreaking.
If only the war had never happened. If only that group of human miners hadn’t caused an explosion on the Kall homeworld and destroyed two mountain towns. That was the incident—the accident—that had led to the quick but brutal war.
If the war hadn’t occurred, her stepson Amos would still be alive, and she and Michael would still be together. He wouldn’t have descended into grief and madness. He wouldn’t have turned scary and abusive, nor would he have killed Shessema, General Zamek’s young wife. Her throat burned.
Heavy footsteps sounded and the murmuring in the courtroom ceased. The sudden silence that descended was thick and ominous. Layla’s heart commenced pounding and she broke out in a cold sweat. She didn’t need to turn around to know the general had arrived. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.
I’m going to die today.
She sensed his presence like a force of nature, and she found herself turning to get a look at him as his footsteps approached. When he walked by her, his dark eyes fixed on her.
Despite the horribleness of the situation, and her deathly fright of the Kall male, she was suddenly struck by his otherworldly beauty, as well as his massive size.
Like most Kall, his skin was a deep shade of red that reminded her of a blazing sunset. Taller than most males of his kind, he towered over her like a conquering giant. He possessed high cheekbones and elegant yet masculine facial features, and his black and gray warrior’s uniform clung to his powerful body like a second skin, accentuating his impressive physique.
She spotted streaks o
f white in his otherwise black hair, though she still thought him rather young looking to have risen to the rank of general. If she had to guess, she would say he was in his early forties. To become a general at such a young age, she knew he must be a formidable warrior on the battlefield.
The sort of warrior who likely didn’t understand the concept of mercy.
He paused to stare at her, and she flinched when one hand moved to the sword at his belt. His nostrils flared and he growled deep in his throat. He clutched the hilt of his sword so hard his knuckles turned a pale pink.
I think he’ll kill her quickly—likely with his sword.
Whichever spectator had offered this guess might be correct. She glanced down at the general’s belt and blanched when she spotted a battle-ax in addition to the sword. The gilded hilt of a knife also stuck out of one boot. She swallowed hard and once again met his lethal gaze.
“General Zamek,” Merokk said, his tone beseeching. “Remember what I told you about this female. Remember what we talked about.”
Layla appreciated his help but didn’t think it would make a difference.
The general looked far too angry—and he’d arrived armed to the teeth. For all she knew, he’d already informed the judge about his plans for her. Maybe that’s why the tarp had been brought in.
After another growl, General Zamek approached the chair near the podium and took a seat. His unblinking eyes remained fixed on her. Dark and deadly and filled with the promise of violence.
A terrible thought struck her, and she turned to look at Merokk. “Ambassador, you must promise me something,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Whatever happens, promise you won’t interfere.” The last thing she wanted was another death on her conscience. While Merokk was a skilled warrior and a respected ambassador, if he interfered with the judge’s ruling or physically attacked General Zamek, all the guards in the courtroom would converge on him at once.
“There is no need to make such a promise,” Merokk said. “Zamek will spare your life. I’ve known him for years. He’s hurting and grieving the loss of his wife, but he is an honorable warrior.”
“He’s armed,” she said, a quiver in her voice.
“So am I. It’s not unusual for a Kall warrior to walk around with weapons affixed to his belt.”
Well, Merokk had a point. While out in public, most Kall warriors remained armed at all times. But still… a sword and a battle-ax looked like overkill. Pun not intended. Despite her deepening fear, she had the absurd urge to suddenly laugh. She bit the inside of her cheek. Maybe she was starting to lose her mind.
She turned and faced the front of the courtroom. The judge was still glaring at her and so was General Zamek.
The manic urge to laugh soon faded.
Her gut twisted and she started to feel faint.
Judge Commak began to address the courtroom, listing Michael’s exact crimes—the crimes he would’ve been officially charged with had he not killed himself. The crimes that were now assigned to Layla by default.
Murder and possession of rebel contraband.
The judge held the confiscated rebel flyers above his head, then pressed a button and several still images from Michael’s attack on Shessema briefly flashed on a large screen at the front of the courtroom.
She was surprised only two charges were announced. Usually, a couple of extra false charges were tossed at any humans unfortunate enough to find themselves in a Kall court.
She wondered if this was Merokk’s doing, and her eyes misted at the thought. Even if she died today, she would be grateful to him for all he’d done to help her. His kindness gave her hope. Not all Kall were bloodthirsty and hellbent on punishing humans.
But General Zamek?
His eyes still blazed with hatred, and his right hand kept brushing the hilt of his sword.
She studied his black and gray warrior’s garb, her gaze drawn to the insignia on his uniform shirt. Her stomach did a quick flip. It was the insignia of Sumlin District, the same district where Betsy had been sold as a slave.
Her spirits sank and a shudder rippled through her.
The two mountain towns destroyed by the careless human miners were located in Sumlin District, which meant Kall warriors from this district usually harbored an intense dislike for humans.
Several warriors screamed obscenities at her and called for her execution. The judge rose to his feet and glared at them until they settled, and silence once again blanketed the courtroom. The elderly Kall sat down and looked at her, his stark blue eyes glinting with cruelty.
“When Michael Dennis killed himself, General Zamek was denied his vengeance,” the judge said, his deep voice resounding through the courtroom. “However, Michael Dennis had a wife.” He gestured at Layla. “I hereby decree that the ancient Custom of Retribution will be followed!”
Thunderous cheers erupted, but this time the judge didn’t order the courtroom to be silent. Instead, he simply shouted over the raucous yelling.
“Layla Remington will be given to General Zamek to do with as he pleases! He is free to kill her, torture her or starve her. He can cut her up in pieces in this very courtroom if he wishes,” he said with a dramatic gesture at the tarp.
The shouts in the courtroom made her ears ring and her head spin.
She watched in horror as General Zamek rose to his feet.
Strong hands gripped Layla, two guards yanking her out of the chair.
A glance behind her showed four armed guards surrounding Merokk, all with weapons drawn. Apparently, they worried the ambassador would interfere.
The two guards tossed her onto the tarp. She winced as her palms scraped on the thick, rough material that was meant to contain her blood… and body parts.
Black boots filled her vision. She peered up at the massive, muscle-bound general. A tear cascaded down her cheek. This is it.
She heard Merokk’s voice in the background, but he was speaking so rapidly that even she couldn’t make out what he was saying.
The general’s hand inched toward the hilt of his sword. His eyes still blazed with anger, but beneath his fury, she saw another emotion—despair.
Another tear rolled down her cheek and she swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry for what happened,” she said, speaking in the Sumlin dialect of Kall.
The general’s eyes widened. Clearly, he was surprised that she could speak his tongue. She’d only mastered a few dialects of Kall, in addition to the common dialect, but Sumlin Kall had been one of them.
“I am sorry for what my husband did to your wife,” she continued. “His actions—“
General Zamek stepped closer and grasped her face, pinching her chin and cutting off her speech. The shouts in the courtroom became deafening as the warriors encouraged the general to kill her.
What was he waiting for?
Yet another tear escaped her eyes, and to her great surprise, some of the anger faded from the general’s visage. He glanced away from her and as he took in the roaring crowd, he began to look annoyed.
He grabbed her roughly, pulling her to her feet. Then he faced the judge. Behind them, the crowd fell quiet. Obviously, the spectators wished to hear whatever it was Zamek was about to say.
Her heart beat rapidly against her rib cage as she waited.
“Thank you, Judge Commak, for upholding the Custom of Retribution. I have decided not to kill this human female today, but to keep her as my prisoner. A quick death would be too kind,” he said as he turned to stare down at her, “and I intend to make her suffer greatly.” His fingers tightened on her arms and a cruel smile spread across his face.
As he dragged her out of the courtroom, she caught sight of Merokk thrashing about inside a portable force field. The four guards remained near him, three holding weapons at the ready, and the fourth aiming the force field projector at him. She hoped he would be okay. Before she could call out to him, General Zamek placed a hood over her head and tossed her over his shoulder.
I intend to make her suffer.
His words, spoken only moments ago, echoed inside her head and filled her with fear.
A chill descended upon her.
He planned to hurt her, to torture her.
To make her pay for Michael’s sins.
She closed her eyes and started to pray.
Chapter 4
Zamek stalked to his warship, the Tammusha, carrying the human female over his shoulder. He had planned to kill her in the courtroom and then immediately depart Earth for planet Kall. His duties on Earth had come to an end and he wished to bring Shessema’s body home for burial.
Yet here he was, bringing the human female called Layla with him.
He told himself he wasn’t showing her mercy. That he truly was going to make her suffer, that he hadn’t just uttered such threats in the courtroom because it was expected.
But when he recalled the sight of Layla kneeling before him, tears streaming down her face, his steps faltered, and he paused on the ramp.
Her tears had affected him. So had the coldness of her fear when it hit his nostrils. His wrist comm started buzzing but he ignored it, figuring Merokk was trying to contact him with more pleas for the human female’s life. He didn’t wish to speak with the ambassador or anyone else right now. He wanted to secure his ship for takeoff and leave this forsaken planet.
He tightened his hold on Layla and marched up the ramp. He hurried to the bridge and issued the command for departure, then watched for a moment as his crew scrambled to obey his orders. Several males shot him strange looks, clearly surprised that he’d brought the human aboard.
Once he was satisfied that the warship would take off soon, he exited the bridge and headed for the brig.
He ignored the guilt that settled on him over leaving the small human female in one of the cold cells. Layla was his prisoner. It was where she belonged.
The corridor narrowed as he reached the brig and the air noticeably cooled. He scanned the ten empty cells and decided to place her in the farthest one, at the very end of the hallway. It was also the largest cell and the only one that contained a separate bathroom, complete with a shower and sink. He called out a verbal command for the door to open and carried her inside. Then he tossed her onto the bed.