by Regine Abel
“You may go,” Ravik said.
Thala bowed her head, cast a furtive glance my way, and then returned to stand by Fenton.
Although I’d been warned of this custom ahead of time, it still twisted my insides and set my teeth on edge. Where wives were off limits under any circumstance, a host was expected to offer his concubine to the pleasure of a guest of similar or higher rank as a sign of respect. If the guest was entitled to take full benefit of that offer, fucking another man’s concubine would express a lack of consideration for the host. It very rarely happened, unless the female was particularly beautiful or out of spite. However, the guest was expected to acknowledge the female’s beauty, and honor the offer with a touch or a kiss, like Ravik had done by caressing her arm.
Fenton gestured for his people to take their leave before leading us to a private salon, with seating and dining areas. It contrasted sharply with the darker, more formal look of the entrance. While the walls remained a pale shade of grey, and the furniture a dark shade of brown, grey, or blue, a number of accent items brightened the place, with colorful carpets on the floor, throw pillows on the couch, and decorative artifacts on the shelves. When I complimented him on the décor, Fenton said it was all Thala’s doing, which had her blushing with pride.
“I hope you are both hungry?” Fenton said, inviting us to take our places at the table, which was big enough for eight. “Good!” he said when we responded in the affirmative. Turning to me, he continued, “I hope you do not mind the informal setting. But I figured you might enjoy not being the object of constant scrutiny, for once, and to have feminine company.”
“Most certainly,” I said smiling.
The females in Xeldar observed me with blatant curiosity but didn’t dare approach me. The women avoided me, unless they were servants seeing to my comfort in one form or another. And even then, they kept those interactions to a strict minimum. I couldn’t tell if they felt intimidated or had been warned against bothering me—probably a mixture of both.
Despite his imposing size and brutish features, Fenton’s good-natured, gentle personality shone through, especially in the softness of his pale-green eyes.
We settled on one side of the table, Fenton and Thala sitting across the table from us. Under normal circumstances, Ravik should have been seated at the head of the table. However, he wasn’t here as the Magnar, but as a man and his woman having dinner with friends.
Fenton waved a hand over a small plaque on the table I’d first assumed to be decoration. Moments later, two servants came in with drinks and appetizers. We launched into a light conversation, talking about everything from troubles Ravik and Fenton used to get into as boys, to epic hunts they took part in, endless questions about my travels, the Tuureans—which I dodged as best I could—the Veredians, my business in the tech industry, and more somber topics like Guldar and the reforms Ravik was instating.
Timid at first, Thala gradually opened up, proving to be quite charming, observant, and sharp-minded. For the first time, I could give a Braxian female a really good look without getting called out for staring. Like the males, they had prominent foreheads without the strong brows. Their noses, broad and flat, was narrower, and more refined. Maybe because of the softer line of their brows, their eyes appeared larger, with thick, long lashes. Thala’s eyes were a pale shade of grey with blue accents. Where males had strong, square jaws, her full lips made her chin appear even pointier in her narrow face. Thala’s face had a doll-like quality about it. Although smaller than the men, Braxian females averaged a height of 6’7 which made me look quite tiny when I didn’t wear heels, and even then. Although sturdier, thanks to their thicker bone structure, their women were far smaller in general body mass, with delightfully feminine curves. They wouldn’t qualify as classically beautiful by intergalactic standards, but they possessed an undeniable charm.
From what Ravik had told me, Thala had been Fenton’s concubine, on and off, for years and had given him two of his four children; a male and a female. She wanted him to claim her as his wife but for some reason, he kept backing out. Seeing them together, the deep bond between them shone brightly. And yet, I could tell Fenton was keeping part of himself guarded off. Had he been hurt before? Had something gone wrong between them in the past that left a permanent scar?
I loved seeing Ravik so relaxed, his arm resting on the back of my chair, fiddling with my small hairs, or his hand on my lap, caressing my thigh, smiling, laughing, and making good fun of his friend. Good company, intelligent conversation, good wine, good food—although they could do with a bit less meat and a more balanced mix of vegetables and other sides—made for a thoroughly enjoyable evening. It almost felt like being in the ‘normal’ world.
Or rather, normal until we finished the meal. At that point, we fell back into ancient times where females had to leave the room while males had a strong drink and discussed manly matters. Under different circumstances, I might have bristled at that, but I actually wanted time alone with Thala.
She led me through a side door and up to her boudoir, located on the second floor of the building. Apparently, the Clan Leaders’ bedroom and concubine suites were always located on the third floor, as with Ravik’s fortress. Her boudoir reflected the style of the décor in the private salon where we had just eaten, although far more feminine and even more colorful.
“This is where I receive and entertain the wives and other concubines,” Thala said, her voice soft and musical.
She shadowed me as I walked around the room, perusing the plethora of decorative items on the shelves surrounding the seating area. Tall windows dominated the room with a breathtaking view of the river. Couches, chairs, cushioned stools and large poufs provided ample seating for at least two dozen people. Two giant screens hung on the wall by a long, rectangular stone table. An intricate mosaic of colorful, but dark, polished stones covered the table top.
“It’s beautiful,” I said with sincerity.
Thala smiled and lowered her eyes, her face heating again. She was adorable but I hoped, with time, she’d prove a bit more assertive, less timid. Based on my interactions with him, I had expected Fenton to be with someone a little less submissive. Could that be the source of his reluctance to marry her?
The room felt a bit more cluttered than I liked, yet I wouldn’t change a thing. Each item told a unique story. However, the curtains by the double patio door were what retained my attention. They appeared to be embroidered with shimmering threads eerily identical in color to the nyrian gems of the necklace Grumar’s daughter had given me.
“Did you make those?” I asked, pointing at the curtains.
“I wish,” she said, making a face as we walked towards them. “I traded for them with Clan Leader Curik’s wife. They live on the Jyriak Plateau, where the nyrian gems can be found.”
“I thought Clan Grumar controlled that region?”
Thala smiled, her fingertips caressing the embroidery on the white curtains. “There are three clans sharing portions of the plateau—Curik, Grumar, and Hurwas,” she explained. “Grumar is the biggest clan with the largest lands. Their females make lovely jewelry, especially the daughter, Vela. She’s young but clever. Nobody really bothered with nyrian stones. It’s a common material and too bright. As you’ve probably noticed by now, Braxians like dark and subdued colors. Having little to no access to the more appealing river stones,” she said, pointing at the mosaic of polished stones covering the table, “Vela managed with what she had. We were reluctant to trade for them at first since there’s no bragging to be had wearing a necklace made of common rocks. But her craftsmanship and her designs are just too beautiful to resist. Let me show you.”
She headed toward a chest of drawers atop which sat a series of scented candles in beautifully sculpted holders.
Where had things such as these been in all the shops I visited in Xeldar?
Thala opened the top drawer and retrieved a datapad. Gesturing towards one of the dark grey couches, she invited
me to take a seat, then settled next to me. She accessed a page with two dozen thumbnails of magnificent jewelry sets similar to the one I’d received earlier.
“This is Vela’s latest collection,” Thala said, pointing at the images. “Her first collection had been of comparable quality, although she does seem to get better and better every day. Many of us tried to convince her to recreate identical pieces with river stones instead. She refused. At first, I think it was because she had nothing to trade for the stones. But even when the wives of Clan Podek who have a near monopoly on the stones offered to provide them, she still declined insisting she only worked with nyrian gems.”
Clever girl.
“So if you wanted her goods, you had no choice but to also take her gems,” I said.
Thala nodded. “Over time, nyrian gems have grown on us, especially since Vela has mastered the art of setting the color of the gems to pretty much anything we want.” She pointed at the curtains with her chin. “For the curtains, Keria, Clan Leader Curik’s wife, has figured out a technique to crush the nyrian gems and spin them into threads that can be woven into pretty much any material and still retain their color setting properties.”
I nodded, my mind reeling at the possibilities. “And what do the females of Clan Yagor do?” I asked.
Thala smiled, slightly puffing her chest. “We make perfumes, scented candles, poultices, and healing creams. Some scents can be pretty powerful to create a certain mood,” she said, the naughty glimmer in her eyes making me laugh out loud. “You’d be surprised at the incredible properties hidden within some of the unusable and even toxic parts of fishes, crustaceans, and other aquatic creatures and plants.”
No, I wouldn’t be surprised by that, only by the women having acquired that knowledge.
“How did you learn all this?”
Thala shrugged. “The knowledge is passed from mother to daughter, each generation trying to add more to the art before passing it down to those who follow.”
“So you have this whole underground market based on trade,” I said, flabbergasted. “Why not open shops to freely buy and sell from each other?”
Thala frowned and shook her head. “Females do not own credits or earn wages. Our males wouldn’t buy things they consider frivolous and pointless. And in our current economic situation, it would be even less likely to happen.” She tucked a strand of her long, dark-brown hair behind her ear. “In truth, even if we could, I doubt any of us would want to, at least not here on Braxia. Sure, it would be flattering for off-worlders to want our products. But bartering is more than just getting pretty things that are indeed mostly useless, it’s about the social interaction, bonding, and friendly rivalries between Braxian females. I would hate to see that go away.”
“Are Braxian females happy?” I blurted out, instantly kicking myself for it.
She blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. I was considering apologizing and withdrawing my question, but Thala didn’t appear offended. Instead, she seriously pondered the question.
“Interesting question,” she said at last. “Had you asked me that six or seven years ago, I would have said mostly not. But the Magnar has made some wonderful changes that have significantly improved the living conditions of females.”
Her pale-grey eyes bore into mine with a strength and force of conviction I hadn’t expected from someone, at least in appearance, as submissive as she.
“Braxia must appear strange, backwards, and even barbaric to you in its ways and customs. On some fronts, you would be right. On others, I would disagree. We do not feel diminished to not be ‘allowed’ at the main table in the Clan’s Hall for evening meals. We do not wish to look at pleasure workers groping each other during our meal, or listen to the boasting and mostly idiotically belligerent conversations between the men to prove they have the bigger cock.”
My eyes bulged at the unexpected crudeness, and Thala’s face turned bright red. Seeing me burst out laughing reassured her I hadn’t taken offense.
“Yes,” I said, between giggles, “they indeed do a lot of that.”
“Indeed,” she echoed, rolling her eyes, no doubt reminiscing one of many such situations. “We do not mind not being allowed into the military or hunting parties. Our males are literally ten times stronger and faster than we are. We have heard of your prowess during the hunt but Braxian females do not have the speed you possess. In truth, we had no idea Guldan females could move as fast as you did seeing how you are the first any of us has ever encountered.”
Guldan females can’t. Veredian females of the Warrior breed can.
“Braxian females are naturally submissive and gladly yield the power to our males who thrive on wielding it, proving themselves worthy males, but doing so in a sensible manner.” Thala shrugged. “Some may say it’s because of our upbringing, but even the most liberal among us likes a dominant male. Even a female as strong and independent as you fell for the apex alpha of Braxia.”
The way she said the last sentence held a challenge, daring me to speak to the contrary. But I couldn’t. I loved being dominated by him, feeling fragile and vulnerable in his powerful embrace.
I smiled noncommittally, and she smiled back, knowingly.
Touché.
“But surely, some women aspire to greater power or control over their own lives, over government?” I asked.
“Yes,” Thala conceded. “And we have it.” She chuckled at my dubious expression. “Behind every great male in power, there is a strong female in his ear, giving him counsel. For generations, every good Magnar had an influential Dagna by his side. In some cases, she was the true ruler while he was merely her voice, her enforcer.”
“Then why couldn’t she be simply declared as such?” I challenged.
Thala laughed like I’d said something cute or naïve. “Look at me,” she said, waving her hands at her body. “Even with your combat skills, neither I nor any other Braxian female before or after me, will ever be able to hang on to power. There’s a reason that, despite his many detractors and those opposed to change, Ravik is still Magnar. No one, and I mean no one, has ever defeated him in single combat. You saw him carry out the sentence on Torvin Sedrak for his betrayal in the forest. Did the Magnar look even remotely in danger of losing?”
I shook my head. The battle had been almost insultingly easy for my man.
“Believe me, if anyone thought they had the slightest chance of winning, they would seek to depose him, but they can’t. No female would survive a challenge,” Thala said casually. “Like Guldar, Braxia’s foundations rely on the survival of the fittest. We want the Magnar, our ruler and protector of the realm, to be the fiercest, wildest, most vicious beast of the land. When it comes to fighting for what we want, do not be fooled by our submissive dispositions. Never underestimate the power of words whispered on top of soft pillows.”
CHAPTER 13
Mercy
Morning found Ravik in a foul mood. I didn’t have to ask why. The closer we got to departure time to my brother’s house, the fouler it became. Knowing concern for my well-being fueled it stirred a sliver of guilt within me. However, I initially came to Braxia with a specific goal in mind that had been derailed by the hunt and the Guldans’ arrival.
I couldn’t believe that only one week had gone by since Ravik and I first met at Anton’s penthouse. My overprotective baby sister and my mother were certainly worrying about me… as always. I had hoped to delay a bit until I had good news for them the next time I sent them a com message but, with Clan Grumar’s trade request, I’d have to send her a message tonight or tomorrow at the latest. The chances of finding my brother’s clients list in my first day of search were slim to none. Still, stranger things had happened.
Casting a sideways glance at Ravik, I bit the inside of my cheeks not to laugh at the vicious way in which he glared at Gorav, Anton’s youngest half-brother. It wasn’t the poor man’s fault that I insisted on going today.
“Stop giving my son the evil eye,
” Krygor said, slapping the back of Ravik’s shoulder in a friendly way. “He and my clansmen will keep your female safe. Don’t forget that Anton initially entrusted her protection to me,” he teased.
“She has me,” Ravik snarled, grumpier than ever.
Far from being intimidated, Krygor appeared amused by Ravik’s tantrum. “Only because you snuck in before I could. We both know had she met me first, she’d have recognized me as the better man.”
Ravik snorted, his mood reluctantly lighting a little. “You wish, old man.”
“Hardly. I’m barely five years older than you,” Krygor said in a dismissive tone. Turning towards me, he whispered in a conspiratorial voice. “Do not let a few grey hairs fool you. It is proof that I possess the wisdom he lacks. When you tire of him and want a real man, look me up.”
I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing, loving their banter. Looking at Anton’s father, one would never guess at the humorous and rebellious persona behind the fearsome face. And he was right; had I not met Ravik first, I definitely would have been drawn to Krygor, especially knowing the hardships he had faced to protect his half-breed son.
“Do not make me crack your skull open, Krygor Aldriss,” Ravik hissed, only half-joking.
Krygor waved a hand, unfazed. “Not today, you won’t, unless you want to have one less voice for this morning’s vote. Come on, pup, and kiss your woman goodbye. We have a council meeting to attend.”
Ravik scrunched his face as if he’d bitten into something sour. Standing before him, I combed my fingers through his hair and lifted my face to look at him. His expression softened but the worry lingered in his eyes.
“Stop fretting, big boy,” I said playfully. “You know they will keep me safe, and I’m not helpless.”
He harrumphed but didn’t resist when I drew his face towards mine. Rising to my tippy toes, I rubbed my nose against his before giving him a light kiss. His large hand on my nape, and his arm around my waist, prevented me from moving away as he deepened the kiss. Krygor cleared his throat behind us when that kiss stretched too long. Ravik growled in annoyance against my lips, making me chuckle.