Prison Moon_Ice Heart

by Alexandra Marell

  The creature swivelled its head, following the humanoid’s path. Enough life left to do serious damage. The humanoid’s hood flew back, the cloak caught the breeze, whipping behind like great wings.

  “It’s her. Kelskar, it’s her.”

  “I see.” The female or the beast? Which one? He couldn’t guarantee taking it down in a hand to hand. Could only hope to reach the fleeing woman faster than the dying animal.

  “To me,” he yelled and succeeded only in spooking her further. The woman raised terrified eyes to his and stood for a long moment, chest heaving, clutching her screaming bundle. The sound filled his brain with unwanted memories of babies crying in the night. Of dragging himself from his bed when the lazy nurse failed to wake to tend to the child. His wife needed her sleep after the difficult birth.

  No, not now. Focus.

  He shook his head, clearing the images. Save the woman and child before the beast trampled them both.

  “No, don’t run. It will give chase if you run.”

  Did she understand him? From her terrified, blank expression he thought not.

  “Kelskar, get her.”

  “Stay back. Janie, stay out of the way.”

  Please, no heroics this day. If Janie leapt into the chase he would save her first. How could he not?

  The creature pawed the ground once, twice and put down its head. Horns first, it charged the frozen woman.

  Battle did strange things to a body. The trees, the sound of the keening wind. Janie’s voice, urging him on, faded to a distant murmur. Distractions pushed aside as his vision narrowed on the woman and child and his body acted without thought. He reached her a heartbeat before the thundering creature. Flinging himself to the ground, he made a cage of his arms, taking her and the child with him into the dirt. Tangled in the heavy cloak, she came to her senses and kicked out, one arm clutching the whimpering babe.

  “Stay down.” A hoof whipped past his cheek, splattering mud into his eyes and nose. The woman’s knee slammed into his thigh.

  “By the god’s woman. Lie still, I’m trying to help you.”

  “Laise. Mugara!”

  A fist flew at his face. He dodged, grabbed the arm and drove it back into the musty leaves. “Look to the babe, it will attack again.” He couldn’t hold her and the squirming child. Could only pray a mother’s instinct kept it locked tight in the crook of her arm. The creature circled, faltered on shaking legs. Head bowed, it crumpled to its knees and toppled sideways.

  “Up and run.” He rolled from the woman, keeping a tight hold on her wrist. Dragged her to sitting, one eye on the fallen beast. He hadn’t noticed Janie powering towards them. She skidded to a stop, dropping beside the woman who immediately clutched the crying bundle closer.

  “Caso manari. Don’t take. Mine.”

  “No one’s taking your baby. We only want to help.” Janie lifted both palms, showing the woman they meant her no harm.

  “Look after her.” Kelskar let go the woman’s hand. Almost as tall as he, with a warmer, darker tinge to her skin than Janie, like the Salerians from the sun side provinces of his home world. He guessed human, though. Easy prey with a good return on the investment, the Corporation set great store by human female cargo.

  Brought here as fodder for lustful males to fight for in the arena or The Chase? Perhaps a hardened criminal who’d as likely stab them in the back as thank them for saving her life? Or like Janie, taken to shoulder a stranger’s crimes?

  Desperate for sure. A mother protecting her babe was a fearsome thing.

  Casting him one long mutinous glare, the woman turned her face to the child, pushing back the wrapping to reveal a red, scrunched up face. Body braced to scream fit to wake departed souls. He knew that look.

  Curse his memories. His son as a new born babe, filling their quarters with lusty wails. Whimpering and snuffling in fretful sleep. The sweet scent of his baby skin.

  Gone. Lost to him for failing to read the twisted monarch’s intent.

  “Convince her we’re friend, not foe.” Kelskar tore his gaze from the child. Stomped over to the carcass to retrieve his sword and carve off a haunch for dinner. Let the memories come. Only then could he give them proper rest.

  So, he didn’t kill the princess?

  He’d been a hero or a fool, then. He still couldn’t decide which.

  The baby looked barely months old. Tiny wrinkled, fingers, dark eyes wide with angry confusion. Hungry or uncomfortable, it seemed determined to telegraph their position to every felon on the planet.

  Janie crouched beside the woman, crooning over her screaming child. How did she convince her they meant her no harm?

  “Did they give you a translation module? Can you stand?” Janie made an upward motion with her hand. Pointed to the enclave of trees they’d chosen as shelter. “Come with me, it’s too open here.”

  “I understand you. And for your information, I was in no danger there.” The woman dashed a clump of mouldering leaves from her cloak.

  “That thing could have killed you. Please come with us. We can help you.”

  “My son is a royal prince.” The woman lifted her pointed chin, studying her with dark imperious eyes as if she were some lowly peasant come to beg a favour.

  “Really?” Janie realised she was losing the ability to be surprised. The woman looked human, nothing to suggest otherwise. Light brown skin with golden highlights on her cheeks. A noble face, stunning in its fierce beauty. No horns or colourless glowing eyes. Was she really speaking English, or did the translation module render everything down to the listener’s home tongue?

  “Yes, I’m human and I can speak English, your own tongue though that is not my first Earth language.”

  Startled, Janie looked up from her scrutiny. How the hell did the woman know what she’d been thinking?

  “The baby is beautiful. What’s his name?” Beyond the red cheeks, the baby’s skin glowed with a tan tint, like his mother. A very human looking baby, unlike the leathery creatures in pursuit.

  The woman took her time answering, as if deciding whether these strangers stood worthy of receiving such an honour. “Dimo, Adal, Alexander.” She bit out the names, imbuing them with lofty reverence. Baby Dimo screamed on, competing with the twittering and screeching of animals creeping out from their shelters now the disturbance had died down.

  “You’re welcome to join our camp. Bring him over here, to safety.”

  Don’t let her high-handed attitude rattle you. The poor woman, chased by those horrible men, fighting for her and the baby’s life. Hiding her terror behind this imperious shield.

  The woman dipped her head and rose in one fluid movement, the mud-stained cloak flowing behind her. Rose and kept on rising. Janie stood at her side, feeling ridiculously small beside the woman’s stately presence. She took a step to lead the way. The woman nudged her with an elbow, pushing her behind.

  “Dimo is royalty. He goes first, you follow.”

  Glowering at the carcass, Kelskar hacked at the flesh with a knife, as if taking out every frustration in his life on the dead beast. Janie couldn’t clearly hear his grunted tirade. Just as well. Gifting the woman a tight smile, she swept an arm, bowing low.

  “By all means, Your Royal Highness.”

  The woman swept up her cloak, lifted her stately chin and favoured Janie with another withering glance. “I am not royalty. Only my son.”

  “Excuse me,” Janie muttered. Oh well, they’d have saved her anyway, despite the ingratitude. Following her to the shelter of the trees, Janie knew Kelskar wouldn’t tolerate a diva in their camp. Would he? The woman surveyed the shelter, her pinched expression obviously finding it lacking. She seated herself on the largest log, the yelling bundle nestled on her lap.

  “Make yourself at home.” Janie dropped beside her, deliberately reaching out to caress the baby’s red cheek. The woman’s arms tightened protectively.

  “Dimo is so very young. This should not be happening to us.”

 
; Janie sighed, knowing that feeling well. “I’m Janie and this shouldn’t be happening to me, either. The man who rescued you is Kelskar. My mate,” she added for no good reason other than the woman, in the five minutes since they’d met had already managed to irritate the hell out of her.

  That’s ungracious, Janie Roberts. She needs our help.

  “Your man?” The woman raised her eyebrows in mock surprise, glancing deliberately at Kelskar wrestling the huge beast with his bare hands and a knife.

  “Mine, yes. Bonded, mated, whatever you want to call it.” Why did she feel the need to explain? Dammit, but some women had a way of making you feel small with a single look. The woman who captivated Justin and lured him away must have secretly stared at her like that. Why hadn’t she noticed?

  “You and this man?” The woman narrowed her eyes, studying Kelskar with her piercing gaze. “How did you manage to ensnare a Bakoli like him?”

  Janie’s smile stuck on her face. Okay, so they weren’t about to become texting buddies. She wasn’t getting into the female equivalent of a pissing match with this woman.

  “You might want to feed that baby. He’s making enough noise to raise the alarm and we don’t want to attract any more of those leathery guys.”

  The woman spat, contempt hardening her dark eyes. Hair to rival Janie’s long black mane. Untangled, sleek and glossy like she’d walked straight out of a high-end salon. How did she do that in a place like this?

  “If not for the child, I would kill them all. Stupid, primitive beasts. I must save my child.” At last, a hint of vulnerability in the breaking voice, of the terror she must have felt running from those men.

  The woman tugged at her gown, pulling down the neck to expose one veined breast. The child’s yells increased, his little head moving to and fro seeking the milky scent. Janie watched fascinated as the woman latched the child’s mouth to the nipple with practised ease.

  “What did you say your name was?” She hadn’t, but Janie decided there and then, no queens in this camp. Everyone got a name.

  Again the slight pause before answering. “Laeesha.”

  “It’s a pretty name.” Did that sound condescending? Janie didn’t care. Oh hell, she didn’t care that this woman almost looked Kelskar in the eye. That she managed to act and look like a queen while being chased by leather-skinned men and running through forests toting a baby.

  A slow, deliberate lowering of the woman’s eyelids. Janie took that as a yes.

  “I’ll leave you to feed the baby. I need to gather sticks and stones to make a fire so my man can cook the meat.”

  My man. Had she imagined the woman’s lips tilting in an ironic smile at those words?

  Stop it, Janie. She’s no threat to you. You’re tired and hungry, that’s all. Cranky with lack of sleep and constantly being on guard.

  And getting too used to having Kelskar all to herself in this false bubble that made her feel like they were the only two people on this world.

  “Meat.” Kelskar smiled and presented the haunch wrapped in a strip of skin. So dashing when he lit up those strong features with that smile.

  Laeesha stretched her neck, inspecting the offering. Nodded in acceptance and returned Kelskar the smile. Janie’s eyebrows rose somewhere beyond her hairline.

  It would have been funny, if she hadn’t been so desperate. If Kelskar left her now... No, he wouldn’t do that. Only being polite to their guest.

  Oh hell, was that longing she saw in the way he looked at the child? A wistful kind of pain she could never understand?

  “Her name’s Laeesha. The baby’s some sort of royal prince. That’s maybe why the men were chasing her. She’ll be safe here. Come and help me gather wood and stones for the fire.”

  Kelskar’s face creased in enquiry at her clipped tone. He placed down the meat and fell in step with her.

  “You do not like this woman?” He bent to inspect a round flat stone, more amused than concerned. “Her claim of proximity to royal blood is evident in her every move. I believe she speaks the truth.”

  “She could be a little more grateful.” Janie stooped to pick up a small log. Too wet, too green for the fire. She dropped it and walked on.

  “Janie.” A strong hand on her arm spun her around. Kelskar’s lips were very close to hers.

  “She can see us.”

  “Let her look. Are you jealous of this woman?”

  “No.” Indignation made her want to shrug him off. To stalk away like a queen herself. Only she wasn’t a queen. Simply Janie Roberts, artist and cake-maker who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who still believed she might one day wake up and realise she’d dreamed Kelskar, prison moons, and leather-skinned men.

  “Janie, know this. You are mine.” Kelskar touched his lips to hers. “I am yours.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, teasing the seam of her lips with his tongue. “It is forever.”

  She hung suspended in the moment, his tongue sliding with hers. The scent and taste of him, the solid shelter of his body, reassured her more than words.

  “Tell me the same. That you are mine. That you are forever.”

  He smoothed her temple with his thumb, naked and open to her. Injured and maybe dying for her. Oh God, she loved him.

  Oh hell, she loved this man with an intensity that hurt. Real love in all its messy jealousies and insecurities. Love that would have her waking in the night, heart pounding with worry for him. Secretly seeking that smile and storing it away in her heart.

  “Yours, always,” she said on a choking breath. But was it enough? The festering infection he seemed so determined to ignore might still take him. You could love someone to your dying breath, but it still wasn’t enough. What if he turned out to be a prince, too? And Laeesha was looking for a father for her child?

  “Rest calm. Your jealousy has no foundation.”

  “I’m not jealous.” They resumed foraging for fire sticks. On her throne in the camp, Laeesha channelled her inner Madonna and watched them with a half-smile.

  This woman knew her worth and it showed in every flick of her dark eyes, every lift of that perfect chin.

  Flat stones to heat and cook food. Janie concentrated on foraging to keep them alive. This she could do. Smaller sticks for kindling, thicker logs for a slow burn. The charcoal would be perfect for roasting the haunch. Maybe even for drawing with in her little book.

  “Speak to me, Janie. I sense a troubled silence within you.”

  “Stop being so perceptive.” She handed Kelskar a stone to go with the one he already had. If the rain held off, they’d eat like kings tonight.

  The irony of that lifted her spirits. “Okay,” she said. “What’s a Bakoli?”

  He pondered for a moment, searching his mind for the reference. “A prime-mate. Why?”

  Walking on a few steps ahead, Janie shrugged and said, “Nothing.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Madness to bring royalty and all the trouble that forebode into his camp.

  Kelskar tore off a strip of succulent meat, so tender it melted on his tongue, gorging for lean times ahead. The scent of charring beast, the baby and his regal mother, all of them triggers for his seeking mind.

  The woman breastfeeding the child could be his own wife. The baby, the child he lost. Or the princess he’d watched over since birth.

  It came to him in flashes, entwined with images of gladiators ripping at great roasting beasts, fingers red with the blood of challengers. Crowds roaring with such force, his ears rang all night with the sound. Feeling so pumped he might explode.

  Smiling so tenderly, it made him weak.

  Janie offered the woman a fresh slice of meat, cut with her knife and laid on a flat leaf. The rain held off, the evening had grown crisp and cold, redolent with perfume from night-blooms. The creatures quiet and at rest, save for a lone bird warbling in a nearby tree.

  The woman nodded stiffly, the babe content and sleeping for now. She’d fashioned a napkin from springy moss an
d a strip of cloth stowed in a cloak pocket. The soiled napkin hung from a low branch, washed in the stream by Janie while the woman tended to her child and watched her warrior saviour far too closely for comfort.

  Janie picked at the remains of her own meat, too full to eat more. Eyelids drooping with fatigue. Kelskar pulled her in to his side, resting her on his chest. Ignoring the throbbing ache of the failing armour.

  “Your blood is poisoned.” Laeesha addressed him boldly. Janie she treated as an underling or servant. He should challenge their guest on that, but had no strength this night to waste on female bickering. Strong enough to assert herself, Janie didn’t need his help to show her true worth.

  “My blood is of no concern.” Beside him, Janie tensed at the exchange. Was this woman a savant? Or did the wounds on his face and head show her what his actions did not?

  “I would repay you for saving the prince.” Laeesha moved in smooth undulations, like a dancer used to being admired. Lifting a graceful arm, she crooked her fingers and beckoned him to her. Janie raised a sleepy head.

  “I am a psychic and a healer as have been generations of my female line. You are blessed in my presence. Tell your woman to gather grofar and sallily. To grind them to a paste and bring them to me. Without my help, you will likely die.”

  “What’s grofar, and sallily?” Janie pulled away from him, rolling out stiff shoulders.

  “The best they have here on this forsaken place. They are herb and root. Find sweet nectar, too. Bring them to me.”

  “I can do it for him. Just tell me where to find them.”

  Laeesha could wither a man with a narrowing of those night dark eyes. Kelskar well remembered the imperious matrons, the wealthy daughters inspecting the gladiators prior to their few hours of pleasure. Heads high, eyes narrowed, looking down their fine aristocratic noses they could never quite hide their growing excitement. And when he took them, class barriers tumbled with their abandoned pleas for more.