Tension rolled across his features. His chest expanded, then he slowly exhaled. “If you will listen with an open heart, I will tell you a story.”
Playing on her sympathies was a waste of time. She generally found sob stories manipulative. “My mind is open. I don’t make decisions with my heart.”
“Fair enough.” He stepped back and motioned to the sitting area on the other side of the table. “It’s a long, complicated story. Let’s go sit down.”
Raina snagged her wineglass as she rounded the table then followed him across the room. He chose one of the two chairs, so she sat on the armless sofa facing him. “Is this a true story or an allegory?”
“Every word is true.” He seemed to fortify himself with another deep breath, then his features settled into an expressionless mask. “A man neither rich nor poor had accepted that his life would be ordinary. He did his thankless job to the best of his ability and poured all of his energy into making his morautu happy.”
“What’s a morautu?”
“A chosen mate, a permanent partner. It’s the sort of union every Rodyte craves.”
It was rude to introduce a tangent, but she couldn’t help but ask. “Is that what Ashley is to Bandar?”
“Their bonding has begun, but it’s not yet permanent. You’ll have to ask Ashley if you want the details.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to derail your story.”
He accepted the apology with a nod and resumed his tale. “The couple was content within their ordinary life and the gods blessed them with offspring. The man’s deepest wish was granted and his mate delivered a strong, healthy boy. But there was one small complication. The boy was born with harbinger eyes.”
“I don’t know what that means.” She rolled the glass between her hands, too anxious to sit still.
“Harbingers can foretell the future through dreams and visions. The genetic anomaly that results in their power also creates very specific coloring. Every harbinger has silver-blonde hair and silver phitons in bright blue eyes.”
“Phitons? Is that the purple part of your eyes?”
“Yes.” It was obvious her questions were annoying him, but she wasn’t sure why his mood was so dark. “Word reached the Harbinger Guild, as it always does, and they came to claim the child.”
“Wait a minute. The parents had no say in this?”
He confirmed her conclusion with a stiff nod. “By law, anyone born with harbinger coloring belongs to the guild. The man and his mate were compensated generously for their son, but neither of them ever saw him again.”
What a horrible story! Why had he thought this would make her more sympathetic toward the battle born? “I’m sorry things like that take place on your planet but I’m not sure I see what is has to do—”
“The story has barely begun.”
She took a quick sip of wine as his mood grew even darker. “Sorry. I’ll try not to interrupt.”
He pushed to his feet and crossed to the food generator. After issuing several commands he continued his story. “The resources gained at the expense of his son made the man greedy and discontent. He now had just enough comfort to make him long for true wealth. His mate was cold and despondent, thinking only of the child they had wrested from her arms. No matter how the man tried, he could not comfort her, so he focused on his newfound ambition.”
“What did he do?”
“There was only one way for a man with few skills to earn that sort of wealth.” Strolling back to the sitting area with a new beverage in each hand, he offered her a fresh glass of wine and kept the murky blue liquid for himself. “He became a bride hunter.”
“What the hell is a bride hunter?” She set the nearly empty glass down beside the sofa and took a sip from the new one. The wine definitely tasted better cold.
“When the practice of war brides began, the dangers inherent in claiming a female who could command magic was the primary motivation. It proved the warrior’s skill and bravery, set them above other warriors.” He took a swig off his glass, making a sound half groan, half sigh as the liquor burned its way down his throat. Whatever he’d selected this time was significantly stronger than her wine. “But the focus shifted to the potential of the offspring when battle born daughters started exhibiting their mother’s abilities.”
“So bride hunters started capturing Bilarrian females and selling them to the highest bidder?”
“Basically.”
His expression remained thunderous so she said nothing more.
“The man’s morautu was tormented by the loss of their son. The man was frequently gone and she lost hope.”
Compassion pinged inside her mind then echoed through her heart, expanding in warm rolling waves. Was he talking about his father, his family? Only personal pain could impact someone this deeply. He was looking through her now and his voice had grown monotone.
“When the man learned that his mate had taken her own life, what little remained of his soul shriveled up and died. He became ruthless and utterly fearless. Within a few years he was the most successful bride hunter Rodymia had ever produced.”
At this point “the man” was childless, so either her theory was incorrect or the story wasn’t over. “Did that make him happy?”
“Of course not,” he snapped then took another swig of whatever he was drinking. “It all became routine and boring until one particularly elusive female reignited his interest. She escaped him twice and he became obsessed with her.”
The story was already pretty damn dark. Did she really want to follow him down this particular rabbit hole? “I’m not sure I want to know what happened when he finally caught her.”
“He’d worked so hard for this particular prize that he decided to keep her for himself.”
She nodded, having suspected that was where the story was headed. “You said mating bonds have to be formed between two willing people. If she was that desperate to get away from him, she couldn’t possibly have been willing.”
“It took four years, but he gradually eroded her emotional defenses and—”
“That’s not surrender. That’s brainwashing. If it took her four years to give in, he didn’t change her mind. He broke her spirt.”
He shook his head and paused for another drink. “I understand your point, but the bond doesn’t work that way. She might have resented him, even hated him, but some part of her wanted him too.”
It was easy to understand that contradiction when similar emotions were twisting through Raina. She disliked Kotto, thought he was self-serving and ruthless, but she also found him intriguing and physically appealing. She cleared her voice before trying to speak. “I won’t pretend to understand bonding, so we’ll just agree to disagree about her state of mind.”
“It’s a minor detail that has little bearing on the rest of the story.”
“Then please continue.”
His gaze swept over her face, his expression oddly intense. Had she said something wrong—again? What had caused that odd expression? “Their first child was a son.”
“What do you mean ‘first’ child. Weren’t war brides released after they’d served their purpose?” She didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Many of the original rules were discarded once warriors realized the only true value was in battle born daughters. If the war bride was unlucky enough to deliver a son—or sons—she was frequently kept until she delivered a girl.”
“Is that what happened with this captive?” Nausea tightened her stomach and she swallowed reflexively. That poor woman. No, those poor women.
“Yes and no.” He sighed and seemed to wilt back into the chair. “She was held in captivity for eleven years and delivered four children, but only one survived.”
“How many of the children were female?”
His gaze shot back to hers and a humorless smile twisted his lips. “Have you guessed her secret already? The three female babies gradually weakened and died, while her son grew stronger a
nd stronger.”
“She was sacrificing her own children to keep her captor from getting what he wanted most. That’s not the action of a willing mate.” He started to speak, but she waved away his argument. “Even if some part of her wanted him, another part despised her captivity.” And her captor. He could justify it any way he liked. These women were victims.
The smile softened, but his gaze remained stormy. “I agree with you. She refused to let her daughters become weapons, so she freed their spirits from their bodies and started planning her escape.”
A chill shook her shoulders and she had to look away. She couldn’t decide if that was the bravest thing she’d ever heard or the most despicable. “Not that I condone murder, but why did she allow her son to live?”
“Magic flowed freely through her daughters, giving her access to their souls. She could communicate with them in a way she could not with her son. The girls understood what she did and why. Each agreed on the course of action and willingly dispersed when she released them back into the universe. If she had taken her son’s life, she would have murdered a terrified child.”
She didn’t understand half of what he described, but she saw no point in arguing with him either. Instead, she asked, “Did she escape?”
“She knew her chances were better without her son, but she couldn’t force herself to leave him behind.”
Raina’s heart ached for the unnamed woman. She’d known nothing but heartache and grief as she struggled against much greater forces. Even if she’d been saving her daughters from unspeakable evil, she’d ended their lives. Her guilt must have been crippling. “Did she make it? Did she get away?” If she only had one son, Raina was pretty sure she knew the answer.
“No. She was recaptured within days of her departure and her son was sent away to school. The man swore that he would never again touch such a treacherous female, but he desperately wanted a girl. Besides, the woman had bested him at every turn. If he could—”
“Force her to give him a daughter he would have won the final battle?” She scooted to the edge of the sofa. “How can you justify any of this?”
“I am not my father!” He shot to his feet and his glass snapped beneath the pressure of his clenching fist. “Yes it was rape. Are you happy now?” He flung the shattered glass aside with an impatient shake of his hand and blood ran between his fingers. “The bond had to be formed through seduction, but once it was in place the men could do whatever they wanted with their war brides.”
He was oblivious to his injury, but blood was dripping off his fingers. Raina went to the table and grabbed one of the cloth napkins then she approached him slowly, half afraid he’d lunge for her. “Kotto.” She said his name in a soft, familiar tone, hoping to draw him back from the bitter past. “Your hand.”
He glanced down and shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“May I see it?” She held out her hand expectantly and sighed when he did the same. Numerous shards of glass were imbedded in his palm and the flesh between his index and middle finger was sliced. She pressed the waded napkin against the underside of his hand so it would catch the blood, but the glass needed to be removed. “Is there a doctor on board? You need medical attention.”
Awareness gradually returned to his gaze and he actually looked a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I didn’t realize the events were still so painful.”
“I’m fine, but your hand is a mess. Can you call for help or—”
“I’ll go to the infirmary.” He raised his good hand and caressed her cheek with his knuckles. His lips parted as if he’d say more, then he shook his head and walked from the room.
* * * * *
“How in Creation’s name did this happen?” Dr. Irron meticulously pulled another sliver of glass out of Kotto’s palm.
Kotto sat beside the treatment table, his forearm extended across the padded surface as the doctor worked from the other side. “I was giving my guest a history lesson and it became a bit too personal.”
“Your ‘guest’.” Irron snorted. “Why do you people persist with these word games. If she’s locked in your bedroom, she’s a prisoner.”
“‘You people’?” Kotto challenged. “Last time I checked you were part of this rebellion.”
“True, but I’m not battle born. Thank the gods.”
It was Kotto’s turn to make a derisive sound. “Your mother was a captive, same as mine.”
Irron chuckled without looking up from the magnified image of Kotto’s hand. “Which actually makes my point for me. My father was a ruthless bastard that saw a beautiful woman and decided to kidnap her. Their arrangement was never draped in the trappings of war or justified by some long-lost destiny. My father didn’t want to ‘recapture’ something he’d never possessed. He just wanted to screw a beautiful woman.”
Kotto laughed hard enough that Irron had to stop. “And to your way of thinking that makes it better?”
“Not better or worse, just honest.” He adjusted the magnification level on the display and repositioned Kotto’s hand. “Raina’s important to your mission, even more so now that she has some mysterious journals.”
“How did you find out about the journals?”
Irron grinned as he skillfully removed a tiny shard of glass. “Security routinely monitors the cube. And this crew gossips like an Amish quilting circle.”
It was a trap. Kotto had been warned by his brother about Irron’s favorite game. The doctor had spent many years on Earth and loved to make human references no one understood. When asked for a clarification, the doctor enjoyed making up outlandish answers that no one in their right mind would believe.
Even knowing he was in for a ration of nonsense, he couldn’t help but ask, “What is an Amish quilting circle?”
“The Amish were a tribe of human cannibals and the quilt was their favorite weapon. It was tradition to stand in a circle while sharpening the blades and discuss recent happenings in the village.”
Kotto just shook his head. “You’re so full of shit the entire crew can smell you.”
Irron glanced up with a frown. “Keyran warned you?”
“Thank the gods.”
“But I liked that one.” Then without missing a beat, Irron continued as if his tall tale had never been told. “Raina might have the protein marker and she does have the journals, so she’s not going anywhere.” He looked up again and gestured with his lighted tweezers. “If she’s too important to release, sir, that makes her your prisoner, not your guest.”
“Fine. She’s my prisoner. Why is everyone caught up on syntax today?”
“Is that what made you lose your temper? Did she call you a heartless pirate?”
“Something like that.” The doctor let go of his hand and Kotto flexed his fingers. The pain was significantly better, but blood was still seeping from a couple of the wounds.
“Don’t you have medi-bots?” He motioned toward the fresh bead of blood trailing across his palm. “I made damn sure I removed every shard. Why aren’t these lacerations closing?”
“I only activate them when I head into battle.” He used an annoyed tone, hoping the doctor would drop the subject.
Irron made a face as he pushed the magnification screen out of the way. “That’s irrational, especially now. Your commanding a crew of pissed-off Rodytes. Turn them back on and leave them on.”
Keyran had frequently commented on the talkative doctor. Kotto should have known Irron would never back off that easily. “Fine.” He activated the nanites with a sharp mental command. Immediately, his hand tingled and the wounds began to close. “Satisfied?”
Curiosity drew Irron’s brows together as he pulled off his gloves. “What made you hibernate them in the first place?”
“They work too well.” Kotto shrugged, trying to minimize the issue. “They don’t just numb pain. They dull all my emotions. I started feeling like a zombie half the time.”
“Then they’re malfunctioning.” He quickly washed his han
ds then motioned Kotto toward the sink. “Clean up while I go get my bot kit.”
Some commanders would take exception to Irron’s bossy tone, but this was his domain after all. Kotto washed his hands and forearms, shocked at the amount of blood that covered his skin and smeared his clothes. Even without his medi-bots, he’d barely felt the pain.
The doctor returned with an alloy case roughly the size of a small piece of luggage. He directed Kotto toward one of the other treatment areas, so the medical staff could clean up the mess.
Kotto flexed his hand and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Clearly, they’re operational now.” He held out his restored hand as proof.
“This will just take a minute. Stop whining.”
Kotto looked at the clerical area in the middle of the circular room, but Irron’s staff didn’t react to his rude behavior. Apparently, the doctor mouthed off to all his patients.
The top of the case was a screen and several wand-shaped scanners were arranged in the bottom. Irron selected one then approached Kotto. “When did you first notice the numbed emotions?”
“Shortly after I was injected with the bots.”
Irron made another face but didn’t look at him directly. “That had to have been decades ago. Why hasn’t this been corrected?”
“My first placement was Fort Ja Harr. I spent twenty-seven years in that hellhole.”
Irron shuddered. “Thank the gods they finally shut it down.” He glanced at Kotto as he asked, “Haven’t you been on the Undaunted for the past few years? General Nox’s staff is second to none. Well, except for us, of course.”
He nodded, liking the doctor despite—or perhaps because of—his unconventional approach. “By the time I was transferred to the Undaunted, I’d used the workaround for so long, I’d basically forgotten about it.”
Irron didn’t look convinced, but he let it slide. After scanning various parts of Kotto’s body, the doctor turned back to the kit and swept his hand across the open case. The holocontrols came to life and he quickly made several adjustments. “I didn’t see any glaring malfunctions, but I tweaked the sensitivity settings. If this doesn’t fix it, let me know and we’ll do a full extraction. Those bots are old as dirt.”
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