Captive

by Cheryl Brooks

  Pelarus sat perfectly relaxed behind his huge, ridiculously ornate desk. Klara couldn’t help wondering how much slave labor had gone into the making of that and the other articles of furniture adorning the room, each one more ostentatious than the last. “They are currently unharmed, although I can’t promise you they will remain that way.”

  “You slimy bastard. What the devil did I ever do to you?”

  Bad question.

  Pelarus leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Apart from the constant acts of thievery, not much. Although you have made a point of thwarting my plans for you.”

  Her outrage blossomed even further. “What right have you to make any plans for me?”

  “I own this entire region?” His response might have sounded like a question, but in truth, there was no doubt about it. “Really, Klara. You could have saved us all so much trouble if you’d only come to me willingly.”

  Klara would rather die than submit to that creep. However, she deemed it prudent to refrain from putting that sentiment into words. She drew herself up to her full height, gazing down at him with disdain. “I prefer my freedom.”

  Pelarus sighed. “Freedom is such an overrated concept. Free to do what? Starve to death? Live in the toxic wasteland of the Barrens? Resort to a life of crime? Tell me, Klara, would life in my palace truly be so bad?”

  “If I am a prisoner, yes. And if you’re looking for someone to produce an heir to your ‘throne,’ you should know that Zetithian women are species-specific. You would’ve had better luck with my mother.”

  “Your mother…” As he spoke, his eyes left her face to focus on the surface of his desk where he drew patterns with a fingertip. “The one death I truly regret, particularly since it was unintentional.” His eyes sought Klara’s once again. “You were the target. Not she.”

  She snorted with contempt. “You think I don’t know that? Why else would I have run away?”

  “You were young and foolish?” Again, his question was more evocative of a statement of truth. “Perhaps it was best that you did since it enabled you to grow up to become even more stunningly beautiful than Delaroh.”

  She stomped a foot in protest. “That’s a load of crap and you know it. My mother was gorgeous.”

  “And you believe you are not?” He paused, his thin lips stretching into a slow, superior smile. “Tell me, Klara. Have you ever seen your own reflection?”

  She had, albeit rarely, and even then, she’d only caught fleeting, usually distorted glimpses of herself. If she hadn’t known herself to be the only Zetithian woman on the planet, she never would have recognized her own image in the wanted posters. “What I look like is irrelevant, except as it pertains to my species. You and I are not compatible in any way.”

  His haughty smile never wavered. “We don’t have to be. As long as I am in control, you have no choice.”

  Despite the thinly veiled threat, she caught herself smiling. “You might not be in control for much longer. I haven’t studied the history of other worlds, but I can’t help but see that oppression gives rise to rebellion. Your downfall will come. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Every regime ends at some point,” he conceded with an indifferent shrug. “You must realize that with or without a rebellion, this world cannot sustain life much longer. But until that time comes, I will be in control. These pathetic Haedusians are no match for my army.”

  “Some army,” she scoffed. “Did you know I’ve been paying off your Nedwut soldiers?”

  “I am aware of everything that transpires in this territory, Klara. There are no secrets.”

  “Hmm…” If he didn’t know about the women’s organization, she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to enlighten him. “How did you know where we were, and what the hell have you done with my friends?”

  “We’re back to that, are we?” he said with a touch of weariness. “Really, Klara. If you insist on strolling down the avenue in plain sight, someone loyal to me will see you. My spies are everywhere. Once we flushed you out of one house, your next move was easy to predict. As for your friends, they are unharmed. If you want them to stay that way, you will cooperate.”

  “And what exactly does that cooperation entail?”

  “Tell the female rebels to stand down. Their rebellion cannot succeed.” Another mocking smile heralded the remainder of his demands. “And, of course, become my wife.”

  The wife part nearly choked her, but his knowledge of the imminent rebellion shocked her even more. “Who said anything about a rebellion? I’m guessing that, like me, everyone on this planet is just trying to survive. Water is scarce and hardly anything grows here. I’d always assumed this world was either dying a natural death or had always been a desert planet. I have recently learned that wasn’t true. What did happen to the water?”

  “On a world where the oceans contained fresh water rather than salt, what do you think happened to it? There are thousands of worlds crying out for fresh water. I simply provided it. Saving thousands of civilizations is worth the sacrifice of one. Surely you see how the greater good is served?”

  “No, I don’t. Neither would anyone else who lives here. I’m not even a native and it angers me beyond belief.”

  “What difference does it make how a world dies? Whether its sun burns too hot or too cold or it is blasted by an asteroid, they all perish in the end.”

  His casual indifference was like salt on an open wound. “Maybe after millions of years or by chance,” she shot back. “The death of a planet should never be by design.” Like the Zetithian homeworld.

  He waved a hand, a phony puzzled frown adding even more ridges to his forehead. “Is this how our marriage will be? Filled with constant bickering?”

  She leaned forward, fangs bared. “I guarantee it.”

  Her skin crawled as his lascivious gaze roved over her. “I suppose I could cut out your tongue, although I find that I am rather fond of the sound of your voice. Perhaps I will simply avoid engaging in political discussions with you.”

  Choosing to ignore the remark about her tongue, which she doubted he would do in any case—after all, sex with a woman mutilated in that manner would be sadly lacking—she chuckled. “Good luck with that.” However, seeing no point in provoking him any more than absolutely necessary, she managed to refrain from adding asshole to her response.

  “You are such a remarkable young woman. Independent, resourceful—even inspiring. What a pity that your spirit must inevitably be broken.”

  “That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? If I submit to your will, I’ll become a different person, and without that appeal, you’ll grow tired of me.”

  “Possibly. However, I am quite willing to take that risk.”

  “I’m not,” she said firmly. “Not now, not ever.”

  “Not even to save your friends from the arena? I am uncertain about the Sympaticon’s chances—they’re so unpredictable—but a Norludian and a pack of young Rackenspries should prove quite easy to kill. On the other hand, your Zetithian friend will provide excellent sport.”

  “Why should they bother to fight? I feel sure you won’t release them, no matter how many battles they might win.”

  “Quite true. Although the public outcry might be such that”—he paused briefly, then shook his head—“No. I cannot allow public opinion to sway my decisions. I never have before, and I see no reason to start now.”

  So much for getting him into the arena with Moe. Then again, he was probably underestimating the level of public outcry Velkma and her compatriots could generate. Half of the population would be very hard to control.

  But was it really half? She’d gotten the idea that not all of the women were to be trusted, and their capture at a supposedly safe house would seem to prove that. Even so, she couldn’t imagine that there were very many women interested in maintaining the status quo. Unless, of course, any changes would be for the worse, which on Haedus Nine, was practically guaranteed.

  “Well, then
,” she said. “I guess this conversation is over.”

  “On the contrary, my dear Klara. Our conversation is only beginning. After all, we have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “You might. But frankly, my dear Pelarus,” she said with a sneer. “I don’t give a shit.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice taking on a pleasant lilt. “You might feel differently when your friends are slated to oppose one another in the arena.”

  Klara’s blood ran cold, but only for a moment. Pitted against one another, they would simply refuse to fight. Then, of course, Pelarus would tell his Nedwuts to open fire on them.

  It’s hard to fight against someone who holds all the cards.

  At least, he thought he did.

  But what if he didn’t?

  He knew about the women’s secret society, and he obviously feared them in some manner or there would be no need to urge them to stand down. There were bound to be others who were as discontented as the women—case in point, the members of her gang who had essentially been marooned here. There were plenty of other offworlders who either had nowhere else to go or weren’t welcome anywhere else. Klara couldn’t imagine that anyone would choose to live on such a world, no matter how much they were paid. Even the Nedwuts would probably jump at the chance to go home, unless their homeworld was in worse condition than Haedus Nine. Never having chatted with any of them for longer than it took to pay them off, she didn’t know anything about their planet.

  “In that case, you’d better have your minions take me back to my cell. I have nothing further to say to you.” Turning her back on him, she started toward the door.

  Pelarus’s raised his voice ever so slightly. “Do your friends mean so little to you? I wouldn’t have expected you to be so selfish.”

  She spun around to face him. “You see, that’s the problem. You don’t know what to expect because you don’t know me. I, on the other hand, know you all too well. If I refuse to cooperate, others will suffer. All that will do is make more people hate you.”

  He barked out a laugh. “In my experience, hatred doesn’t matter nearly as much as obedience.”

  “You might be surprised,” she said dryly. “As I said before, you will fail. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “We would appear to be engaged in a battle of wills. I wonder which of us will be the first to falter.” If his determined expression was any indication, Pelarus had no intention of wavering.

  But then, neither did she.

  Chapter 20

  Klara assumed she would be taken to a prison cell guarded by six snarling Nedwuts. She hadn’t expected to be escorted to a luxurious suite attended by three tiny bird-like women with long silvery white hair, pale blue teardrop-shaped eyes, and even paler pink skin. They didn’t sound like birds when they spoke, though. Unless the birds on other worlds had more melodious voices than the harsh-voiced kradjet birds with which she was familiar.

  “Where did you say you were from?” Klara asked the one who appeared to be the eldest and the one in charge, although because they were all dressed in identical blue tunics and leggings, it was difficult to tell.

  “We are Zuteran,” the woman replied with an arrogant lift of her chin. “The Master refuses to have Haedusians serving him. They are much too ugly.”

  Klara wasn’t sure the Zuterans were any better-looking. Well, maybe a little. Their hair was pretty, anyway. “I see. How did you come to be here on Haedus Nine?”

  “That is a long story,” the woman replied. “I am Jaquet, and these ladies are Medras and Verdal.” She pointed to each of her companions.

  Klara had no idea how she would ever be able to tell the other two apart. If Jaquet hadn’t appeared to be older, they might have been triplets. “You ladies need name tags.”

  “That has been suggested,” Jaquet said with a sniff. “However, we find name tags to be rather uncouth. You will learn our names in time.” She hesitated briefly. “If that sort of thing is important to you.”

  Clearly, these three wanted their names to be remembered rather than read off a tag. Klara couldn’t blame them. Reminding herself that she could tell the Racks apart was no help whatsoever since she had been the one to give them their names in the first place.

  “So, what’s the drill here? Am I to be bathed in perfumed soap and anointed with oil or left to my own devices before being sent to the Master’s chambers?”

  “That is for you to decide,” Jaquet replied. “However, should you wish to be bathed and anointed, we are here to assist you.”

  “Hmm… What if I were to ask you to help me escape? What then?”

  “We would be forced to decline. Escape is beyond our capabilities.” Jaquet didn’t bother to add that if escape were possible, the three of them would have done it already. At least, that was Klara’s take on it.

  Their own story was bound to be interesting—and possibly helpful. “Do you want to escape?”

  Jaquet’s unwavering gaze met hers. “I have already stated the impossibility of escape. For anyone.”

  “Well then, I guess it’s up to me to prove you wrong because I have no intention of remaining here to become Pelarus’s slave or plaything or whatever he has in mind.”

  “Marriage, I believe, is his intention.”

  Klara shuddered. “Yeah. That’s what he said. I can’t imagine a worse fate.”

  The corner of the tiny woman’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “Can’t you?”

  “You’ve obviously never met Moe Tshevnoe or you wouldn’t be asking me that question. We are mated. For life. Pelarus doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Jaquet let out an unladylike snort. “I don’t believe he cares. Besides, the man you call Moe is currently in the dungeons awaiting trial in the arena.”

  While this was disconcerting, it was far better than a report of his execution. Having fought against Moe herself, she knew that unless he had to face multiple heavily armed opponents, Moe would be the victor in any fight. Fortunately, Pelarus could have no inkling of the speed with which Moe could move. Although since he undoubtedly wanted Moe dead, he would see to it that the odds were against him.

  “And when is that to be?”

  Jaquet’s brow rose ever so slightly. “We have not been granted that information.”

  “Some help you are,” Klara muttered. She plopped down in a nearby chair with no regard for how dirty her clothing might be. If these three were supposed to be looking after her, they could damn well clean the furniture. Or give her cleaner clothes. The Zuterans themselves looked neat and tidy. But then, they’d probably never had to live on the street with barely enough water for drinking, let alone washing. “Okay then, if you aren’t going to tell me anything useful or help me escape, I’ll take that bath—minus the anointing with oil. Oh, and some clean clothes while you’re at it.” A thought struck her, triggering another shudder. “But no lacy, see-through shit. If I’m going to be faced with You-Know-Who, I’m dammed well going to be dressed decently.”

  Jaquet tilted her head, a bemused expression on her pale pink face. “I do not understand.”

  “I want something your grandmother would wear. Nothing sexy or provocative. I’m not giving him any ideas in that direction—and a dark cloak if you’ve got one. The longer and thicker the better,” she added, remembering her own cloak, which had undoubtedly been reduced to ash in the fire that destroyed their home.

  Home.

  She’d never thought of their hideout as being a home, and yet it was. And her gang was her family, despite their disparate origins. Being parted from Moe was like an open wound, but she missed Temfilk, Nexbit, and the Racks dreadfully. Pelarus would only say they were unharmed, but where were they?

  Jaquet bowed. “We will do our best to acquiesce to your requests.” Her tone sounded pretty doubtful.

  Klara tried another tactic. “You said Moe is in the dungeon, but what about the rest of my gang? Pelarus said they were unharmed, but do you know where they are?”


  “I would assume that they are also imprisoned in the dungeons.”

  The Zuteran’s careless response made Klara long to choke the life out of the tiny woman.

  Better not. Playing on their sympathy would be best.

  “My poor little Racks,” Klara lamented. “I can’t stand the thought of them being mistreated.” That they’d been abused as pups would have been obvious to anyone. It had taken a long time to win their trust. The amount of damage that could occur in a short time as prisoners would take months, perhaps years to overcome.

  If I ever get the chance to be with them again.

  Pelarus had her over a barrel, and he knew it. She wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardize the safety of her friends. The mere thought was appalling, but she was going to have to cooperate with Pelarus. Up to a point, anyway.

  Of course, she only had his word that any of them was safe. They could already be dead and she would never know.

  The other thing was if Moe had to fight in the arena, would she ever know the outcome? Would she even be allowed to watch? Did she want to be?

  Of course I have to be there. That’s the plan. Being captured was an eventuality they’d anticipated and planned for. She had a part to play in this rebellion and an obligation to uphold.

  Even if it meant having to watch Moe die.

  “You will simply have to believe what the Master told you.”

  Jaquet’s smug reply had Klara gritting her teeth, but she managed to turn her grimace into a smile. “I guess I will, won’t I? Just wish you’d stop referring to Pelarus as the Master.” Shaking her head, she rose from the chair in one swift motion. “Never mind. Let’s do this bath thing.”

  With a curt nod, Jaquet led the way into the next room in the suite. Medras and Verdal brought up the rear like a pair of guard dogs.

  The sitting room was posh enough, but the spacious bathroom took Klara’s breath away. The walls and floor were covered with tiles of light aqua shot with gold, and the one high, narrow window was draped with silvery gauze. On a dais in the center of the room, a bathtub of polished blue and white stone was surrounded by a similar curtain.