Redemption: Sci Fi Romance (Far Hope Series Book 2)

by E. A. James

  “Of course we understand,” replied Thomas. “We’re desperate. That’s all. We’ve been at war with these beasts for over a hundred years, and the only solution we’ve found to stop them devastating our crops every autumn is to sacrifice a virgin maiden on that mountain over there. We go through the same quandary every year. Should we keep up the sacrifice, or fall back on outright hostilities?”

  “I understand your dilemma, but surely hostilities can’t be worse than throwing away innocent lives. You only have a few more months to wait, maybe less. Then my fleet will enter orbit around Phomentina and wipe out the Raveniss menace forever. You won’t have to worry about sacrificing your daughters anymore.”

  “I only wish I could believe you, Major Bloodkist, but we’ve heard the same promise from the Axis before. We’ve been so close to defeating the Raveniss, but the promised support from the Axis never materialized. You have to forgive us for not trusting you now.”

  “That won’t happen this time. The fleet is on its way here as we speak. We know you can’t defeat the Raveniss on your own, and the Axis remains committed to ridding the galaxy of this pest once and for all. Just hold out a little longer. We won’t let you down this time.”

  “Where will we go? What do you have in mind for us after it’s all over?”

  “We have the destination all lined up. It’s the perfect solution to your problem, but you must trust us. Put off the sacrifice, just a little while.”

  Amara whispered to Margila, “What’s he talking about?”

  Margila silenced her with a wave of her hand and bent closer to the window to listen.

  Thomas Fallosi shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we’ve learned through hard experience that the loss of one person means very little compared to dragons without number swooping in on us, destroying our crops, burning the village, and killing hundreds of people, not to mention leaving the rest of us to starve over the winter.”

  Major Bloodkist drew himself up. “In that case, I’ll send the fleet as fast as I can. We’ll stop this terrible business and get all your people to safety.”

  He strode out of the house, but Margila didn’t see where he went. She never saw him in or around the village again.

  Her father turned to Councilor Dunroy. “I only wish we could believe him. I would give anything to skip the lottery, even for one year.”

  “I feel the same way. We both have young daughters, and the more times they enter the lottery, the more likely their chances of being chosen for the sacrifice. I don’t understand why the Axis is sending all their fleet here to destroy the Raveniss. Why don’t they just evacuate us and leave the Raveniss behind? That would solve everyone’s problem with a lot less effort and expense.”

  “Why does the Axis do anything? I can almost believe Major Bloodkist enjoys fighting so much he would go out of his way to start an all-out war between the Axis and the Raveniss. They don’t really care about us. They just want to show off their firepower.”

  Councilor Dunroy smiled. “I wish I could share your humor, Thomas, but with the lottery coming up tomorrow, I just can’t seem to enjoy anything. I won’t enjoy anything until I know Amara is safe. Then I can relax for another year until next year’s Festival.”

  Thomas laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know. We better go now, before anyone starts to suspect.”

  The two men wandered out of the room, and Margila lost track of them. She and Amara crouched under the window. “What was that all about?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t know the Axis sent their representative here. I’ve never seen him before.”

  “What was all that about evacuating and finding a perfect destination for us? It sounds serious.”

  Margila stood up. “I don’t know, but I have more important things to think about right now. I’m sure my father can handle anything the Axis Joint Command throws at us. If they’re coming up with a way to defeat the Raveniss so we don’t have to keep conducting these wretched lotteries, I’ll be happy to go along with it. Now, come on. I have to find my mother and get to work.”

  Amara hung back. “I better go home, too. My mother will be wondering where I am. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave Margila a kiss on the cheek and hurried away.

  Margila went around the front of her house where she met Marcus Drury at the door. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  Marcus swept his arm around her waist. He hustled her around the opposite corner of the house. Three large spruce trees sheltered that side of the house from the cold winds. They hung over the eaves and made a shelter out of sight of the lane and the Common.

  Marcus pushed Margila against the wall and kissed her. He pressed his chest against her breasts and crushed her with his body. His hands roamed around her waist and down her hips to her thighs. “I had to see you. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

  Margila sighed into his mouth and closed her eyes. “I’ve been busy.”

  “You’re not too busy to sneak off with me, are you? Just for a little while? We’ll hide in my father’s barn.”

  He rubbed his hips against her, and his flesh swelled between his legs. Margila’s body quivered with excitement, and a pleasant warmth spread between her legs. Oh, how lovely it would be to sneak off right now. She would roll with Marcus in the warm hay in his father’s hayloft. His hands would explore under her skirt to hidden places underneath.

  He hitched up her dress around her thighs, and he caressed her bare skin with long strokes of his fingertips. Margila mewed, and she panted through her nostrils. His insistent mouth pushed her lips apart to let his tongue dart inside.

  Their tongues danced in a rising swirl of intoxicating passion. Marcus found the moist center between her legs and circled it with his fingers. Margila writhed against Marcus, longing to satisfy her craving with those fingers. Marcus always knew the best way to drive her wild.

  “Come on, lovely. Come away with me. I just need you for a little while. I’ve been out of my mind. Come on now. You’re so wet. You know you want to come. You want me, don’t you? You want me to touch you and make you moan?” He pressed his bulging crotch against her leg. “You make me so hot. I need you now.”

  With a great effort, Margila tore her mouth away from his, but he nibbled down her neck to her bodice. He mouthed along her collarbone even as his hands traced up to her breasts lying taut and bound under her bodice. He found the delicate softness of her nipple and pressed it with his thumb. “Oh, Marcus!”

  He breathed into her ear and ground his crotch into her swollen mons. “Say my name, darling. Say it loud. Scream for me the way you know I like it. I’m going to take you tonight. I’m going to make you mine.”

  She gasped for breath. “I can’t! I want to, but I can’t. Mother needs me. I can’t just leave her without help.”

  He gave her one last pump of his hard prick. He kissed her until his passion subsided. “After the festival, then. Promise me you’ll come to me as soon as the Festival is over.”

  “You know I will. You know I want to more than anything.”

  He pulled his hand out from under her skirt and it fell to her ankles. He smelled his fingers. “I know you’re a game vixen. That’s what I love about you. Well, you better get in there and I’ll get back to work. Don’t forget your promise. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “I won’t forget. I want you as much as you want me.”

  He checked both directions to make sure no one was coming. Then he ducked out from under the branches and disappeared.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Amara burst into the kitchen and found Margila up to her elbows in flour. Piles of pastry lay rolled out on the work table. “Come on, Margila. We’ll be late.”

  Margila dusted off her hands. “I’m coming. Just let me wash my hands first.”

  She washed the flour off her hands and untied her apron. She hung it on a hook by the door, and she and Amara walked out into the lane. Dozens of people flocked from the village houses toward the Common. The two
girls had to wait at the gate for a crowd to pass before they found room to follow.

  Countless people already crowded the Common. They surrounded a low platform where Thomas Fallosi and Councilor Dunroy stood with six other village men. They all looked very somber. No one smiled.

  Murmured conversation rippled through the crowd, but everyone kept their voices low. The children didn’t run and shout, and the younger ones clung to their mothers’ skirts. Margila spotted her mother in the crowd and migrated toward her.

  Dara Fallosi turned beseeching eyes toward Margila and caught her daughter by the hand. She tried to smile, but her lips started to tremble. She compressed them to keep her composure.

  Margila held her mother’s hand and they turned their attention to the platform as her father addressed the crowd. “Is everyone here? That’s all right if someone is missing. We can inform them afterward. Let’s get this over with without preamble.”

  A little boy approached the platform and climbed up the steps. Margila recognized him as Paulo Rakner. At nine years old, he was the oldest of three brothers. He would never enter the lottery, and he had no sisters to enter it, either. No one could accuse him of harboring any vested interest in the outcome.

  Paulo carried a large platter balanced in his hand. Dozens of huge, ripe red strawberries lay heaped on the tray. He stopped next to Thomas Fallosi. “Does anyone have any objections to raise about the conduct of this lottery? If you do, speak now.”

  No one said a word—as if anyone would object to a tradition the people of Phomentina followed for generations. Thomas Fallosi rummaged around in his pocket and brought out a tiny glass bottle. Without ceremony, he uncorked it and poured a clear fluid all over the strawberries. It drizzled into the stack and covered all the berries.

  He corked the empty bottle and put it back in his pocket. Then he nodded to Paulo and turned away to the other men. He kept his back turned while Paulo climbed down from the platform and wormed his way into the crowd.

  He went from one young woman to another and offered the tray. Each one took a strawberry and ate it. He stopped in front of Amara. She hesitated before she took the biggest, ripest, reddest berry she could see. Amara held the berry in her hand and stared at it. Then she looked around to find Margila watching her.

  Margila didn’t have time to smile or give her friend any reassurance before Paulo came toward her. She studied the berries on the tray. They all looked so tantalizing. None was less ripe and red and perfect than another, but that meant nothing. She picked a beautiful berry off the top of the pile. She weighed it in her hand. She couldn’t escape her fate by choosing a better berry.

  She eyed it with mixed emotions, but in the end, she took a deep breath, mustered her courage, and took a big bite. The delicious juice gushed into her mouth, and the bite mark showed up red and bright in her hand. She chewed the berry and swallowed it, but it stuck in her throat. She couldn’t enjoy it.

  Paulo made a complete circuit of the Common and came back to the platform, where he started over with the first young women again. He still had quite a few berries left. One by one, the girls took a second berry. Some broke down crying when they tried to bite into them. One by one, their loved ones threw their arms around their necks in tears of relief.

  Paulo came back to Amara. Her hand shook when it hovered over the tray. Amara’s mother had to put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders to comfort her before Amara could summon the courage to select a berry. Even then, she sniffed back tears before she bit into it.

  As soon as she found the berry bright and red and sweet and juicy inside, Amara broke down in her mother’s arms. Cries of joy and relief spread through the crowd, but the girls who hadn’t yet selected their second berry shook and wept at the back of the crowd.

  As if by magic, Margila found Paulo standing in front of her. He gazed up into her eyes with childlike innocence. A dwindling layer of berries remained on the tray, but each one looked as fine and tempting as the last. She couldn’t stand there hesitating while the other girls waited their turn. She closed her eyes and grabbed a berry.

  Without opening her eyes, she guided it to her mouth. Better to know the truth right away. Then she could get back to preparing for the festival. She bit into the berry, and it crumbled into a sour meal in her mouth. Her eyes popped open, and she stared at the fragment left in her hand. Inside the bright red skin, the berry was white and dry.

  Her mother looked over her shoulder and saw the berry in her hand. She let out a shriek that brought the whole village flocking around. Her mother’s hands flew to her mouth to stifle her screams, and other women hurried the distraught mother away.

  Margila stared down at the white berry. She couldn’t make her mind comprehend the terrible truth. She’d been selected. She would be sacrificed to the dragon on the full moon so the rest of the village could survive in peace for another year. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. Should she be happy or sad?

  Tumultuous cheers and laughter broke out on all sides of her. The maiden girls who escaped the lottery joined hands and danced around Margila. They laid flower garlands on her head and around her neck. Two strapping young men hoisted her onto their shoulders and paraded her around the Common. Children showered her with flower petals. Singing and festivity accompanied her everywhere.

  All the attention worked its magic on her mind. She smiled down at her friends and loved ones, but she didn’t see her father in the crowd. She clasped the hands thrust up at her, and she laughed in excited joy. She was the Harvest Princess!

  The young people conducted her to a special pavilion in the center of the Common. Flowers and decorations of all kinds made it gay and inviting. Only from a great distance did Margila register the fact that she herself made those decorations and put them in their place the day before.

  The young men and women sat Margila on a throne surrounded with garlands and golden vessels. They draped a magnificent gown over her shoulders and laid a scepter in her hands. Then they all sat down to feast and make merry for the rest of the day.

  All thought of helping her mother or anybody else flew right out of Margila’s head. From that hour, the whole village paid strict attention to her. The young maidens attended her every need and whim. They bowed to her when they spoke to her and called her “My Lady.”

  Amara moved among the maidens, but she kept her distance from Margila. They passed no friendly conversation anymore. Amara slipped through her fingers, the same way her family and the rest of her friends did. Amara barely lifted her eyes to meet Margila’s gaze. When she did, her eyes remained cold and distant. She might as well be looking at a tree in the far distance.

  The older villagers came and went in the pavilion to wish Margila well and to ask her blessing. Anyone who wanted a special blessing, for health, for safe childbearing, or for prosperity, could come forward, kneel at the Harvest Princess’s feet, and receive the blessing touch of her scepter.

  In the evening, fires warmed the pavilion. Old and young joined in festive merrymaking with music, dancing, drama, and stories for the children told by their elders. Margila noticed her parents in the crowd, and the weight of responsibility lifted off her shoulders. They would be all right. The village would close ranks around them and help them through the coming weeks. The village people always helped anyone in need.

  Margila laughed at the drama plays and enjoyed the dancing. She relished the attention and the fine food. Her attendants kept her plate full of the best meats the village could offer, and her cup never emptied of the choicest wines. For a few days, she forgot all about her former life of toil and want for the most basic necessities of survival.

  Only one shadow clouded her joy when she spotted Marcus hanging around the periphery of the pavilion. He never entered into the light and warmth of gaiety and plenty. He scowled at the merrymakers and especially at her. He brought back to her, for a fleeting instant, the glaring fact that this celebration would end in only one way. When she saw him, the shad
ow of the dragon darkened her joy.

  She tore her eyes away from him. She couldn’t let him rob her of the few moments’ reprieve this celebration offered her. She couldn’t turn a frightened or uncertain face to these people. They counted on her to embody the joy and celebration of the season.

  The merrymaking lasted late into the night. The fires burned through the darkness, and a dozen young maidens fluttered around Margila to attend her every need. Long after she got tired, people approached her for one final blessing or a touch of her hand or a reassuring smile.

  In the small hours of the morning, the maidens made a bed for Margila between two blazing fires. They draped warm quilts of goose down over her and stood at her head and feet to protect her while she slept.