Lady of the Star Wind

by Veronica Scott

  “As I foretold, the gods don’t wish these men to die!” Tia screamed to anyone who might be listening as she rose to her feet.

  Another small aftershock rattled the palace.

  “Release them, or the gods will bring this place down on your head, Farahna.” Tia made this dire prophecy at the top of her lungs as she struggled to keep her footing.

  Mark heard a yelled command from the queen. “Do it, release them!”

  Staggering like a drunk, Seroj regained his feet. He took two steps toward Mark and Rothan, drawing his belt knife to cut the ropes, and was crushed by a toppling statue as another, more powerful, aftershock rolled through the bedrock under the palace.

  Abandoning their attempt to reform a line around the prisoners, the surviving Maiskhan soldiers broke ranks and ran from the area.

  “Sandy, quick, grab a knife and get me down,” Mark said, straining against the restraints to see her. “We’ve got a short window of opportunity for escape here.”

  As the trembling underfoot faded and the earth steadied, Sandy and Tia each gathered a belt knife from a dead or dying guard. The women sawed at the restraints holding Mark and Rothan to the columns. The second he was free, Mark took Sandy in his arms and held her tight, burying his face in her soft hair. She was shaking so hard she dropped the knife.

  “I’d have gone insane watching them execute you. These people are barbarians!”

  “We’re not out of the woods yet.” He drew Sandy behind him, shielded by the pillar as Gaddaf, the Maiskhan commander, reentered the courtyard. He drove a squad of his men with him, cursing and beating them with the flat of his sword.

  Mark checked for potential exits, but there was no hope of escape from the enclosed space. The Maiskhan were coming at them from both doorways.

  “You possess the luck of the gods, at any event, traitors.” The Maiskhan commander stared at them from his position behind the ranks of his soldiers. “The queen has altered her decree. You’re to be interred alive with the women after all, entombed with Hutenen’s body tomorrow.” Lowering his voice, he leaned closer. “No doubt it would momentarily displease the queen, but I’ve no compunctions about killing all of you right here.” Eyes gleaming in the torchlight, Gaddaf ran his finger along the edge of his sword. He made a beckoning gesture with his other hand. “Give me an excuse.”

  Surrounded by edgy guards, the four prisoners marched under Gaddaf’s supervision through halls full of frightened courtiers, fallen walls, and damaged statuary to a cell in the lower depths of the palace.

  “Dawn arrives soon, bringing the hour of your funeral procession. Make peace with your gods.” Gaddaf left one torch in a wall sconce and slammed the cell door as he departed.

  A heavy bolt locked on the other side, the sound echoing in the small space. Mark assessed the situation, which took a depressingly short time. The room was a large rectangle divided into four open cells by partitions. There was a stack of lumpy, straw-filled mats by the door, a couple of benches, and nothing else. He did a quick reconnaissance of the entire room, noting chains and bloodstains in several alcoves. Pacing to the entry, he said, “We’re not getting out of here. Not even a window.”

  “No, we’re well and truly caught,” Rothan agreed. “What of Djed? He didn’t return with you to the Lady Dawn.”

  Pondering the potential for ambushing a guard the next time anyone entered the cell, Mark said, “I ordered him to stay on the loose. I hoped he could manage something, some kind of rescue.”

  “At least he won’t suffer our fate.”

  “My head spins. I’m dizzy.” Tia moaned, sagging against Rothan suddenly. “I need to lie down.”

  While Rothan carried his swooning wife, Mark dragged two of the mattresses into the far corner, piling one on top of another so Rothan had somewhere to place her. Kneeling on the grimy floor beside the rearranged bedding, Sandy took her pulse.

  “Rapid. I think she’s a bit in shock after all we’ve been through. She needs to rest and be kept warm. I wish I had my medical bag.”

  Rothan sat on the lumpy mat next to Tia, folding her tenderly in his arms. “I’ll provide such warmth as I can, and comfort, till the guards come for us.”

  Mark took Sandy by the hand, raising her easily to her feet. “Let’s give them some privacy, as much as we can in this dungeon.”

  She held his wrist and peered at the cuts in the torchlight. “I’d better bandage these. Nothing to wash them with, no antiseptic.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to have time to worry about infection.” Returning to the entry, he got a grip on the best of the remaining mattresses and dragged them to the farthest corner, inside the least disgusting cubicle. Sandy followed. “Might as well be comfortable ourselves. Have a bit of privacy.” He sat on the hard surface and reached for her. She folded herself into his embrace. They sat in silence for a few moments.

  “You’re freezing. Such a flimsy nightgown.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms to warm her.

  “You’re half naked and soaked from swimming!”

  “We’re a fine pair, all right. Still alive, though.” He bent his head and kissed her softly on the bare shoulder.

  Sandy stared at him. “When you came on board the Lady Dawn tonight, I was so frightened for you, afraid the Maiskhan would kill you right there. Why didn’t you stay with Djed? Try to rescue us later?”

  Smoothing her hair away from her face, he said, “I’m never going to be parted from you again. There were too many Maiskhan on the ship for me to be able to rescue you. Using my blaster against all those archers on the enemy ship would have left too much chance you’d be injured or killed. Blasters are no good in close-quarters combat. I figured the next best thing was to be captured along with you. More chance of being able to make something happen, since I’m lacking situational intel on this world and have little hope for reinforcements.” He realized he’d clenched his fists. “Not that I’m having much success extracting us from danger so far.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” She tore strips from her gown and did the best she could to wrap his wrists, tsking over the renewed damage at the site of the snakebite. He flexed his arms when she’d finished. “Thanks.”

  “On the house.” She lay back against his chest.

  He hugged her. “Listen, I don’t know how much time we have before they come to take us, but I need to tell you two things.”

  “Yes?” She faced him when he didn’t immediately continue.

  Mark brushed her lips with a kiss. “One, I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know for dragging you into exile on this planet, bringing you into danger after danger, risking your life for total strangers—”

  “I’ve heard enough.” She placed her fingers on his lips. “We made the decision together to take the chance Lajollae offered. You were facing certain death on Freemarket, and as you said at the time, my fate wasn’t going to be much better.” She gave an exaggerated shiver. “Barent Kliin is a monster. At least here we’ve been side by side. I wouldn’t give up sharing the dangers with you if Lajollae appeared in this cell right now and offered to send me to Throne.”

  Mark kissed her fingertips and then her lips. She returned the embrace but wasn’t finished speaking her mind. “All those years when I believed you were dead, I was merely existing, walking through life, losing myself in my work, and caring for others so I wouldn’t think so much about what I’d lost. Since you came for me, and brought me here, well, I’ve lived. I’m happy.” She spared a quick glance at the dingy, smelly cell. “No matter what we’re going through.”

  Mark studied her face in the flickering torchlight. “Which brings me to my second item. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Even when I tried to make myself hate you, in the Sectors, my heart was yours.” He linked his fingers with hers. “That’s why I never found anyone else. I belong to you.”

  “I understand.” She raised her face to his, and they kissed for a moment.

  Attempting to get more comfortab
le, Mark leaned against the wall, Sandy curled on his lap, her head pillowed on his chest. Although his shoulders and back ached from being strung up in the courtyard, and buffeted by the earthquake, he endured the discomfort to be close to her. He drew in a deep breath of her perfume and her warm, womanly essence, the scents easing his mind and body down from the edge of adrenaline stress.

  After a moment or two of this, she lifted her shoulder to break free of his embrace. Instantly, Mark moved his hands away from her, and she turned, repositioning herself on his lap, her legs wrapped around him, arms circling his neck. The curves of her soft bottom pressing on his cock aroused him even in this situation. Mark lowered his head and leaned into a caress, his tongue probing gently at the invitation she offered with her parted lips. They kissed passionately, tongues exploring, twined in a sinuous, hot dance. After a moment, he withdrew, trailing soft caresses along the curve of her warm and sensuous neck, always one of his favorite places on her body. Tilting her head for him, Sandy allowed him to nuzzle the sexy, soft hollow where her neck curved into her shoulder. She slid one hand between their bodies, cupping him.

  Unable to stop himself, he thrust against the pressure as she massaged his shaft through the fabric of his damp kilt. He took her mouth for another deep, long kiss. “I want you,” he whispered.

  “Can we? Here?” Sandy glanced at the dank prison walls as she caught her lower lip in her teeth. “What about Rothan and Tia?”

  “They’re probably doing the same thing about now.”

  “Aren’t you in a lot of pain?” She searched his face. “The Maiskhan weren’t any too gentle. I don’t want to aggravate your injuries.”

  “Let me worry about my injuries. Don’t be the doctor for a few moments.” Seeing consent in the way her eyes softened as she smiled at him, he rolled them over onto the lumpy mattress, so she lay pinned beneath him, his penis nestled in the vee of her legs, separated by the layers of their clothing. “We don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but at least we have the rest of the night.” Keeping the weight of his upper torso on his elbows, he smoothed her hair across the mattress. “I don’t want to die without loving you again.”

  She put her hand on his lips. “I’m with you all the way, my bogatyr. This moment is what we have, so let’s savor it.”

  Capturing his lips with hers, she tenderly explored his mouth while working his clothing off. She ran her hands over his thighs, massaging and caressing, until she was squeezing his butt. Her fingers brushed his balls through the coarse fabric of his undergarment. Responding to her ministrations, his shaft pulled the fabric taut. She pushed him over onto his back, Mark yielding to her without reservation. Sandy stroked his nipples, making him shiver, and ran her hands across the taut muscles of his abdomen, Silky hair caressing his skin as she lowered her head, she pulled the drawstring of his loincloth loose with her teeth. Moving away a few inches, she tugged at the garment with her hands, arousal making her hasty, a bit rough as she rendered him naked.

  Freed, his shaft immediately jutted out, ready for action.

  “Come here,” she ordered, wrapping her hands around the base of his penis to stroke him, base to tip, holding him prisoner, not that he had any intention of complaining. She swirled her tongue across the engorged head, lapping up the first pearly drops of arousal. He fisted his hands in her hair to pull her closer as his hips bucked. She took him into her mouth, sucking, releasing, teasing.

  After a moment, he realized he was going to finish if he didn’t slow her down. Gently, he disengaged. The possibility of being interrupted by the guards stayed in the back of his mind, curbing his ardor somewhat as he repositioned them so she lay under him. Rather than risk having her naked in the cell, he hiked her skirt to her waist and lowered himself to fit in the vee of her legs.

  His shaft nudged against her body, the caress of her soft folds increasing his desire. His whole body craved what she was offering him, but despite his brave words, the aches and pains forced him to move slowly, gently. She held him as tightly as she could, kissing his neck, his chest. Her hips rose and fell under him. He slid his ironhard erection the first few inches into her body, finding her so hot and tight he could hardly bear it. He brought one hand to where their bodies were joined, pushing through her soft blond curls to stroke sensitive places to heighten her arousal.

  He moved his hips slowly, advancing inside her as she clenched her inner muscles to hold him, then withdrawing only to drive forward again as she matched his rhythm perfectly. Sandy locked her legs behind his back, keeping him imprisoned deep within her. Whispering his name, she hugged him tight. He stopped exerting iron control and pumped harder, faster, driving into her body as deeply as he could.

  A storm of emotion and sensation blocked all thought, leaving nothing but the intensity of the shared pleasure that overtook him as they both climaxed. Exhausted and sweaty, Sandy went limp against him, breathing hard. Savoring the pleasure of their bodies locked together, he stayed where he was for a few moments. Then he rolled them onto their sides, his cock slipping out of her body. Sandy murmured a little sigh of regret, resting one hand palm down on his stomach. He settled her into his shoulder and reached one hand to pull her nightgown down, covering her as best he could. She snuggled closer, draping one leg over his body.

  “Loving you was even better than I remembered,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “Of course, the surroundings and the bed leave a lot to be desired.”

  His arms tightened. “We should have done this at the oasis on our first night here. So much wasted time—I was an idiot.”

  They lay entangled for a few moments, breathing deeply. Sandy curled as close to him as she could get, whispering little endearments in Outlier. After a few moments, he knew she slept. Cautiously he pulled free long enough to put his clothing on, before taking her into his arms again.

  Mark stayed awake the rest of the night, keeping watch over his princess and attempting to formulate some desperate option that might get her out of danger tomorrow.

  The door creaking open a few hours later sent him into high alert, although his body was stiff and aching from the mistreatment the day before. Mark hastily untangled his legs from hers, got to his feet, fists clenched, ready to shield Sandy as best he could. Over the partition, he saw Rothan rising on the far side of the cell to do the same for his woman.

  “You will assemble here to meet us now,” said the Maiskhan officer in charge of the guard detail, pointing at the floor in front of him. “Or my men will enjoy subduing you and your women.”

  As slowly as he dared, Mark walked hand in hand with Sandy to obey.

  “I truly regret we’ve come to this moment.” The Nakhtiaar official accompanying the jailers bowed as Rothan and Tia approached the door.

  “Not as sorry as we are, Sapair,” Rothan said, shaking his head. “How much time do we have?”

  “The burial procession is to commence in an hour. You must be bathed and dressed. We’ve brought basins of warm water for you and appropriate clothing.” Sapair gestured at the small piles of garments now being carried into the cell by servants. The squad of tense Maiskhan soldiers spread out to line the walls, on the alert for any offensive move on the part of the prisoners. The official glanced at the soldiers and then away with a small shudder. Leaning closer to Rothan, he said, “It was the most I could get away with. But don’t tarry in your preparations. We’re pressed for time.”

  “You expect the women to get undressed in front of these leering jackasses?” Mark said glared at the Maiskhan. “Better think again.”

  “We appreciate your efforts,” Tia told Sapair softly. “Leave the basins and the clothing, and we’ll be ready at the appointed hour. I give you my word. I wouldn’t dishonor my brother by going to his burial dressed like this.” She gestured at her crumpled and bloodstained night shift.

  The courtier bowed to her. “As you wish, of course, my lady.” He clapped his hands. “Leave us,” he said with a shooing motion. The servants and the so
ldiers, including their scowling captain, withdrew.

  Mark gave Rothan a sideways glance as the group was exiting, wondering if Sapair would be a valuable enough hostage to buy their freedom if he were to grab him.

  The Nakhtiaar captain shook his head decisively in answer to the unspoken question.

  Apparently unaware of his jeopardy, Sapair watched his companions file into the corridor before fumbling in his robes to retrieve four hard rolls and a small brick of cheese, which he handed to Rothan. “Eat quickly. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring anything else.”

  “Sapair?” came a peremptory call from outside the cell.

  “Coming,” he said, voice tense as he glanced toward the door. “Giving them instructions for the procession!” Lowering his voice again, he said, “Farahna wanted you to go to your deaths starving. But I remember when my own sister was pregnant. She’d get ravenous and faint from hunger at times. I wanted to spare you public embarrassment, Lady Tia. My sincere condolences on the loss of your brother.” He bowed his head and strode rapidly out of the cell before anyone could thank him.

  The door slammed emphatically shut behind him, and Mark heard the lock click. “I could have grabbed him.”

  “And the Maiskhan would have cheerfully killed him to get to you. Our freedom can’t be won by holding a mere official hostage. Farahna would just appoint someone else to the duties.” Rothan walked to the pile of clothing and lifted out a finely woven blue tunic and a pair of black leather pants. Setting those aside, he took out an intricately worked leather belt studded with golden falcons at intervals. “Sapair does us great honor. I am sure it was his idea to bring us clothing befitting our ranks. The queen would have us die dressed as slaves, prisoners, in dishonor. Thanks to Sapair, we’ll go to Hutenen’s tomb properly attired.”

  “A small rebellion but brave on his part,” Tia answered. “He was always a good person, one I trusted.” Brushing a tear from her cheek, she reconsidered. “As far as I could trust anyone in this palace.”