by Lizzy Ford
“How do the battle plans come?” he asked without removing his eyes from his lifemate.
“Not well.”
He expected the news and turned away from the wall displaying his woman to the wall displaying his battle plans. Ne’Rin didn’t have the mind for battle planning, another reason A’Ran hesitated to assume the worst about him. Ne’Rin was the kind of man who took orders, not the kind of man who valued strategy. Someone else would have to do the thinking for him if he were to execute any kind of betrayal.
A’Ran studied Ne’Rin, aware he had more than the potential war with Qatwal to contend with.
CHAPTER FOUR
A’Ran watched her off and on during the several days she spent alone. She was very unlike the women of his society. Where Anshan— and even Qatwal— women would wait for their men to direct them, his woman had disassembled everything in the room she could. The access pad was useless, the clothing unit jammed, the communication monitor too covered with handprints from her searching to work right. Her translator had been lost during restless sleep then crushed in her pacing, and the cell was littered with several dozen pieces of colorful clothing.
It took him a full day to realize she didn’t know how to exit her room, that her intent at disassembling the access pad had been to make it work for her. The Anshan ships didn’t work like the Qatwali ships did; her access needed to be programmed into the computer, but she’d broken the pad before Ne’Rin could do it. Once she disabled her translator, he couldn’t communicate with her. Her tampering successfully sealed her in the room.
Which would’ve been fine, for an Anshan woman, but appeared to be nothing short of torture to her. She was impatient, anxious, emotional … nothing like the women he knew, which both interested him and warned him. He waited two more days to see if she would settle. She grew worse. It might take all three sisters to rein her in, if even their hands were firm enough.
He liked watching her despite her odd actions. The craft’s computer assured him her health was good; she was just distressed. He’d left her door broken and postponed leaving the ship until she calmed. But as the days continued, he realized that wouldn’t happen. On the third day, he decided to land.
A’Ran sent for his sisters to meet them outside the small dwelling they had taken refuge in several years ago. When Ne’Rin signaled all was ready, he strode from the deck into the corridor and straight to her cell. The door jammed at his first attempt to open it. He waited for Ne’Rin to fix it and tried again.
It opened, and the exotic woman within turned to him, surprise on her face. He beckoned her forward and stepped back for her to move into the hall. His woman hurried forward to the hall but stopped in front of him, her intelligent eyes flashing with anger. Without a word, she slapped him.
Women never slapped warriors. In fact, no one slapped a warrior full grown, not even his father.
A’Ran stared at her hard, surprised. He conveyed his displeasure with his body rather than his voice. He tensed and straightened, then backed her into the wall. She didn’t back down, a trait he was not certain he liked for his woman. She gazed up at him with angry eyes, and he stepped forward until her lush little body was pinned by his to the wall. He felt her racing heart and heard her breathing become uneven. His eyes scoured her face, lingered on the plump lips he had tasted, and glanced lower at the healthy bosom pressed to his chest.
Suns, but she was perfect.
Her face deepened to crimson, and her dilating eyes dropped to his lips before flying up again. She tore her gaze away and twisted her head, yielding yet defying him as well. She was tense and waiting while his eyes took in every detail of her face. She smelled of woman, a husky, sweet, faint scent.
He stepped away. She understood him and obviously felt the same energy he did when they touched. It was enough to satisfy him. Warriors were known for their patience and control, but he sensed this woman would test both. He nodded his head to the side in a silent order for her to proceed. She marched away from him. If he channeled that fire, he might find he liked her defiant passion.
A’Ran trailed several steps, watching the way her hips sashayed as she walked. Her walk was unguarded like her mannerisms, a sweet lack of refinement he wasn’t sure he liked. Her pace slowed as she caught sight of Ne’Rin. He nodded to his advisor, who waved his wrist before the access pad.
The door cracked open, and his woman shielded her eyes against the sudden sunlight. It was midday. The brilliant suns were overhead, their heat heavy in the still day. He moved around her and stepped onto thick green grasses.
Two of his sisters were waiting, composed and serene in their dark clothing with hands clasped in front of them. The third, the youngest, hurried toward the door, translator in hand as he had ordered.
Both older sisters nodded in deference as he approached, and he glanced over them to assure himself of their health. There was a time before they were exiled where he would’ve been ashamed to see them in such plain clothing. He’d long since accepted that their health was far more important than where they lived or what they wore. The heavy, masculine features that made him fierce had rendered his sisters too heavy of face to be pretty. They were all unmated despite their dhjan blood. The eldest, D’Ryn, bowed and greeted him.
“May the sun shine long on you, brother.”
“D’Ryn, Gage,” he said in response. “You look well.”
A commotion sounded behind him, and he turned. Nishani took the hands of his youngest sister, Talal, and began to speak, animated compared to the serene women of his world. For a long moment, he watched. She was meant to be his, this he didn’t doubt, though he couldn’t stop the trickle of unease that warned him she may not be able to adjust to their world as easily as he wished.
Her tones rose and fell, her hands and arms animated. She appeared to be telling a story, and not a very good one based on the angry shade to her features. His sister appeared calm but glanced at him several times. Something his woman said took her interest; her gaze grew sharper, and she moved closer to nishani. Curious, A’Ran neared, hanging back as his other two sisters approached.
His woman was speaking too quickly for the translator to keep up. Her varying tones would have thrown it off as well; it was programmed to the monotonous speech pattern of Anshan. He crossed his arms. Nishani fell silent and unsure at their approach, but was prodded by something soft his youngest sister said that threw her into another animated story.
Ne’Rin approached, his eye caught by Gage, who gave a bow of her head but whose face turned pink. A’Ran had long suspected the two favored each other, but neither had addressed him about it.
“You will hold a battle committee despite your mating?” Ne’Rin asked, joining him. A’Ran, assuming his sisters could handle the newest member of their family, turned and started toward the white dwelling before him.
“Yes. We must warn our battle commanders about the possibility of war with Qatwal. I will announce my lifemate at the committee. I believe the Council will be visiting us as well once they receive word of what I have done.”
Ne’Rin nodded. A’Ran took in the home he had left several moon cycles before. It was nowhere near as large as their true home but was comfortable and well-maintained, an adequate place for him, his sisters, and now his lifemate. The women would remain until the war was over and he could take them to their rightful home.
That day was near. Now that he was no longer in the slavery of the Council, he would take the last few steps needed to rebuild his alliances and bring his might to full force. With his lifemate discovered, he had everything he needed to reclaim his throne.
“Brother!” The startled cry made him turn. His three sisters knelt over his lifemate’s still form. He trotted to them, trailed by Ne’Rin.
“What happened?”
“Brother, she does not understand …” Gage appeared confused. She drifted off, reddening. He knelt and brushed his woman’s hair from her face. She was pale but breathing steadily, her enigmat
ic eyes closed.
“What was said?” he asked as he scooped her into his arms.
“A’Ran, she believes herself to be your prisoner,” D’Ryn said. “She doesn’t understand you are mated. When I explained, she became unwell.”
“She speaks the truth,” he replied as he strode into the house.
“You are not mated?”
“I am,” he said.
“She doesn’t know.”
“No.” He heard the troubled note in D’Ryn’s voice but ignored it. Instead he strode through the bright hallways into the women’s wing and into the first room. His sisters followed, D’Ryn relaying the information to her sisters. He set his lifemate on the bed and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Gage, water,” he ordered.
“She’s so little,” Talal murmured.
“Brother, she is your intended? You felt the signs, as father said?” D’Ryn asked again. There was anxiety in her quiet voice.
“Yes,” he said. D’Ryn sighed, and Talal whispered to the eldest sister. It was news they— and the rest of his people!— had been awaiting for many sun-cycles. He was relieved to give it at last.
“Where does she come from?” Talal asked. His youngest sister paused beside him, leaning against his thigh while she studied his lifemate with brown eyes a shade lighter than his.
“Far away, outside the Five Galaxies,” he said.
“What is she called?” D’Ryn asked.
“Kiera,” Talal responded. “Like one of Anshan’s moons. It was a sign, brother.”
Kiera. He hadn’t asked or cared. He knew what she was, and he was content to call her nishani, the title given to a warrior’s lifemate. Her eyelids began to flutter.
“Leave us,” he directed his sisters.
They obeyed. His woman awoke but was instantly stricken with a look of bewilderment. She sat up. They gazed at each other, and he felt a familiar tremor. At last, she reached for his arm. He let her take it and saw her attention shift to the bracelet.
“You can take it back,” she said, at once frustrated when the bracelet gave no sign of loosening. She held out her arm instead. “I didn’t understand what it meant.”
“You agreed,” he reminded her.
“I did no such thing!”
“We made an agreement based on three conditions,” he said.
“The first was this, which I didn’t understand, the second … you remember the second, and the third …” She trailed off, pensive. “You didn’t name a third.”
“The third was for you to agree to be my lifemate.”
“I don’t remember that!” she exclaimed.
“You never asked for the third condition.”
Realization crossed her features and with it another flash of anger.
“This won’t hold up in— ” Her last word didn’t translate.
“Nishani, welcome to your new home,” he said, and rose. “My sisters will instruct you in the behavior I expect of you.”
And he left her sitting on the bed, aware of how much more work his lifemate would create for him.
*
The behavior I expect of you.
Refreshed the next morning, she still couldn’t fathom the statement. Rather, she couldn’t fathom how something so medieval could have been directed at her.
The behavior I expect of you.
It bounced around her head, first in disbelief, then in shock, and finally, in anger. As for the remainder of their conversation …
It was unreal. It made no sense. Yes, he had named three conditions, and yes, she remembered agreeing after that fantastic kiss. But damned if she didn’t recall the third condition. Had she been that smitten or so desperate to leave?
Other thoughts were skittering through her brain, those that reminded her she was no longer on her own territory and he hadn’t told her something she hadn’t heard before. Their last conversation sounded eerily like something Evelyn had tried to tell her.
You’re a guest of Romas right now, but if he decides to put you on the market, so to speak, pretty much anyone can … um … claim you as a … you know, a bride.
What else had Evelyn neglected to tell her? The idea of being stuck on some strange planet made her want to panic and run screaming for the first spaceship she found. She tried to push the thought away and distract herself by wandering the mansion. It wasn’t anywhere near the size of Romas’s, and the dwelling showed signs of wear and use. It was well-kept, if aging.
She wandered until she found an exit and stepped into a beautiful midmorning. A set of boy-warriors were practicing with grey swords in the grassy courtyard. They couldn’t have been past thirteen but rivaled her in height. They appeared to be playing rather than training; there were five, two standing and mock battling while the three younger ones watched and cheered.
It was unfortunate the cheerful youths would turn into unsmiling, frozen warriors one day. She drew as near as she dared without disturbing them. They battled with great vigor and exaggeration to the cheering of the three younger boys until one turned and noticed her. All five rose and straightened, offering her deep bows. They straightened again and stared at her. She stared back.
“Are you enjoying the day?” she asked awkwardly.
“Yes, nishani,” the eldest replied. The word did not translate at all.
“You don’t have to stop,” she said. “You were doing well.” The boy seemed unsure how to respond and gazed at her, as did the others. “Or you can teach me a few things.” His eyes widened, and the two smallest boys looked at each other.
“No, nishani,” the eldest almost whispered.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Nishani, women do not fight,” he answered. Three of the boys nodded vigorously in agreement.
“On my planet, women do fight,” she said. There was no contradiction offered. If anything, she thought she was distressing the eldest boy.
“Please show me. You were doing so well,” she said.
The boy blushed, appeared conflicted, and at last gave a stiff nod. The youngest skittered away in excitement, crowding each other and whispering a short distance away. The opponent of the eldest hesitated before handing her the weapon. It was light, a curved grey sword made of the same material as the beds and spaceships. Kiera hefted it and relaxed, cheered to be doing something other than thinking or pacing.
The youth showed her how to stand and hold the weapon while the eldest watched with a sharp eye. When set, the eldest demonstrated a simple strike and block, then corrected her form as she followed his example. After several attempts, the two older boys were satisfied and moved onto another strike and then another block.
She concentrated hard, intent on distracting herself as well as learning something new. She needed a workout; maybe she could learn to use a sword instead of kickboxing, which she’d been doing regularly for years. She stayed until she broke a healthy sweat. When the midmorning sun grew too hot, she lowered her weapon and handed it to the boy beside her.
“Thank you. You all are really good,” she said. The boys all bowed and watched her walk back into the house, curious and excited. The exercise helped clear her head. She set about wandering the halls once more, pausing to look out of large windows onto expanses of grass.
“Nishani!” a female voice cried.
She turned. It was the first girl she met, the tall woman with a long face named Talal. Talal strode toward her, and Kiera waited.
“Nishani, we have— ”
“My name is Kiera,” she corrected.
“Yes, nishani. Kiera, we have— ”
“Is there anywhere to get some water around here?”
“Yes, nishani.” Talal motioned to a nearby door. Kiera waved her armband. A door to someone’s private quarters slid open. She hesitated, but Talal entered and reappeared several moments later with a small bowl of water.
“We’ve searched for you throughout the house,” she said as Kiera drank.
“I was out back,” Kie
ra responded. At the blank look, she assumed the translator didn’t pick up her slang and rephrased. “I was practicing swords with the boys in the yard.”
“Practicing swords? Nishani, here women are forbidden to fight,” Talal said with a shake of her head.
“I needed something to do,” Kiera replied. “And where I’m from, women do fight.”
“There are many things to do,” Talal said with a nervous giggle. “My sisters and I are to show you your new home.”
“And teach me how to behave?”
“Yes, nishani,” Talal said. “My brother says your home is very different, that we need to teach you everything.”
“Does he?” Kiera felt her cheeks grow red. “Your brother is …”
Talal appeared apprehensive, and Kiera curbed her tongue.
“Maybe I will teach you how women behave where I’m from,” Kiera said, and fell into step beside her.
“My brother doesn’t believe your influence would complement us,” Talal said.
“Maybe I ought to have a word with your brother,” she grumbled, surprised the man could insult her without being present.
“It would not be wise. He wasn’t pleased with you for missing his farewell this morn. Maybe when he returns, your behavior will please him.”
Kiera didn’t know where to start. There was too much wrong with the woman’s words, but she dumped her confusion and wounded feelings to ask, “Where has he gone?”
“To the Council and to the Anshan battle commanders.”
“Battle commanders?”
“How far is your home?” she asked, giving her a long look.
“Very, very far,” Kiera responded.
“I will take you to Ne’Rin first. He may choose what to tell you about the war.”
“Thank you.”
At that moment, it was the only safe thing for her to say. The woman beside her was far too subservient for her comfort; if their brother expected her behavior to conform, he was in for a surprise. Maybe when he realized that, he’d send her home. The chipper thought was fleeting. There was something about the warrior that warned her he didn’t lose his battles.