Assassin's Bride

by C. J. Scarlett

  “Why?” I asked because she wanted me to.

  “We must rule this planet. The Kamani control its resources, including the Sky Jewel. The Ak-hal were meant to rule.” I could see where this was going. It was likely that the Ak-hal had taken over rule of their last planet—which they promptly destroyed along with their women. I wanted to know how that happened, was dying to ask, but it seemed that Sarita had no inclination for discussing that.

  “The Kamani are weak. They are meant to be dominated. In my culture on Earth, there were castes, ordained by the gods. The Brahmin were meant to rule, just as the Untouchables were meant to have nothing.” The way that she said it, it was with bitter resignation. So, she was of the lowest caste in her human life. That must have sucked. I didn’t feel particularly sorry for her, to be honest. She was cold and cruel, like her adopted people. “It’s the same with the Ak-hal and the Kamani.”

  “My son will lead the first campaign against the Kamani. As soon as you are mated, you must produce an heir. It’s of the utmost importance. If you fail to do so, you will be executed with the next mating ritual.”

  “Do you have any other sons?” I asked. She looked up from her work sharply.

  “Of course. I have five sons. Moranen is my oldest. If he dies in the campaign, however, you will not be saved for the next son. You will be discarded.” My heart pounded in fear. I folded my hands on my lap to hide their shaking. Wherever I looked—up, down, left, right—there was another wall. It seemed as though I were feeling my way around like I had when I first awoke in the ship—the door was hidden from me, somewhere. It would appear where I least expected it.

  Chapter 5

  I walked, back straight, chin raised, my hand tucked in Moranen’s arm. We glided down the hallway of the castle. Groups of women and Ak-hal passed us, their faces angled downward in respect. I was dressed that day in bright crimson silk, the color of blood, and the sleeves spilled over my hands. I wore a thick cloak, woven of soft, scarlet yarn. I was relieved to not be wearing the skin of a Kamani. My hair was pulled back into a tight bun beneath my sun-like crown. I had been wearing it so often that my neck ached from its weight. We were stopped by a raven-haired Ak-hal who had a young, haughty-looking woman hanging onto his arm.

  “Moranen,” the Ak-hal greeted. “I see you have found your mate.”

  “And you yours, Bahir,” Moranen said. You would think from their tone that they were discussing a new plaything. Baseball cards. Video games. I had to remind myself that those things didn’t exist here. I nodded to the other woman. She stared at me.

  “This is Libba,” Bahir said. He wore the red sash of a noble. Libba looked at me with a delicate smile. She took her hand from Bahir’s arm, and transferred it to mine. We walked down the hall, in front of our soon-to-be mates.

  “How do you like it here?” she asked me. She seemed as cold as an Ak-hal. Immediately, I mistrusted her.

  “Not at all,” I replied honestly, testing her loyalty. She looked at me, her eyebrow crooked.

  “You will,” she said confidently. “Everyone ends up liking it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Who wouldn’t jump at the chance for immortality?” she shrugged. “My new dresses are beautiful and Bahir treats me like a princess. He has promised me that I will always be dripping with jewels.”

  We had entered the great hall filled with circular tables. There was one off to the side, where a bunch of women sat in total silence. I looked at them, frowning. Libba noticed.

  “Those are the ones without mates,” she said disdainfully. “They have nothing that is worth the Ak-hal’s time.”

  “Then why were they taken?” It seemed pointless, a waste of innocent lives. I sat down at a table beside Libba. She unfolded the cloth napkin set on her plate, pressing it flat in her lap with a flourish.

  “It must have been a mistake,” she shrugged. It clearly didn’t concern her that it might easily have been her sitting at that table.

  “But five of them?” I said incredulously. I looked over at Moranen. “Why haven’t they found mates?”

  “It happens,” he replied vaguely.

  “Shouldn’t they be sitting with the Ak-hal? Shouldn’t they at least be trying?” I was unnerved. Moranen looked at me impassively.

  “There are always a few who are executed before the mating,” he said. “It just happens.” Our breakfast was brought to us by a woman dressed in fine silks, a large white apron covering her front. I had been instructed, in one of my daily sessions with Sarita that I wasn’t to speak to her. As a new member of the royal family, others were now below me. The serving women were mates to lower Ak-hal—foot soldiers. It was of the utmost importance to the Ak-hal that everyone had a mate. Their whole campaign against the Kamani was dependent upon their growing numbers.

  She placed a plate of strange meat and sweet bread in front of me. A small bowl of something looking and tasting of yogurt, encircled by different cut fruits. It was colorful, pleasing to the eye.

  Outside of the large window, a massive body lumbered by. I sat up, enthralled, my mouth dropping open. It was my first glance at the Ak-hal when in dragon form. It had a massive triangular-shaped reptilian head perched on a long, sinuous neck. Its body was long and muscular, and its wings were like the fabric of an umbrella stretched upon its thin spokes. Its scales were white—iridescent in the sunlight. Its tail dragged loudly behind it.

  “You look like a fish,” Libba said archly. I had the distinct feeling that she wanted to add “an ugly one” to that sentence, but didn’t dare in front of the crown prince.

  “It’s breathtaking,” I replied.

  “You shouldn’t talk about an Ak-hal who isn’t your mate in that manner,” Moranen said darkly. I glanced over at him in surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I didn’t know.”

  “Now you do,” he said simply, yet with menace in his voice. I looked down at my plate, chastised. I picked up my fork, filling it with a tiny bite of food and placing it into my mouth. I chewed delicately. Sarita had warned me—everything must be done with grace and elegance, no matter how hungry or uncomfortable I might be. We had sat in her personal chambers, first thing, every morning. She taught me things that I hadn’t learned while in stasis. Her teachings basically amounted to this: nothing must disturb the Ak-hal. If their ire was raised, it could spell my end in a fiery inferno. In the world of the Ak-hal, there was no sickness. There was no aging. There was only a fight to remain calm at all costs. That, and to produce more of the Ak-hal. They wanted to take over the planet that we were on, Shakal. They wanted it for its resources, which the Kamani controlled. Ak-hal were strong, but they were small in numbers. The Kamani, it seemed, had numbers.

  As I sat in silence, eating, I thought about who I’d been on Earth. I had been a high school teacher in my small town. I’d taught English. I hadn’t made the best salary, but I’d owned my own small house and had been quite content to live quietly with my books. I hadn’t wanted to get married. From a young age, it had never appealed to me. While I had dated, nothing had ever seemed permanent. Not one of my exes could have made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse. It wasn’t commitment that had been my issue—it had been compromise. They had all wanted me to compromise—go to a game, or a party, when I’d just have rather to curl up in bed with a book. A cat would have suited me better.

  Now, I would be married, against not only my character, but my better judgment, as well. I was to become a royal brood mare. The bleak idea of my new reality, barely a week in, already stifled me. I didn’t know what to do—I was only alone when in my room, when I was sleeping. I got ready for the day in the same large bathroom as all the other women, and then I was sent from person to person, spending my day with either Moranen, silently clutching his arm as he went about his business, or sitting across from Sarita, listening to everything that I must do to be as crown princess of the Ak-hal.

  Beside me, Moranen st
ood, finished with his breakfast. He held out his hand to me—his signal that it was time to go. I glanced at my plate mournfully. I had barely cleared a fraction of it, and I was still hungry. Quelling my sigh before it left me, I placed my hand in his, letting him pull me out of my seat. I looked over at Libba, who stared at me with jealousy. I recognized in her the same moral values as Sarita—power and prestige were everything to them.

  “It was lovely to meet you,” I lied with a smile. I was getting quite good at it.

  “And you,” she replied coolly. If looks could kill, I’d be a corpse on the blue stone floor. Moranen whisked me off. We had a council meeting to attend, in which I would sit silently beside him. If there was one thing that I had learned during my time with the Ak-hal, I no longer had an opinion.

  We glided through the halls of the castle. I was starting to learn my way through the very similar-looking halls. There was a pattern to them—that of an interlocking spiral, the center of which were the main hall, the rooms belonging to the royals, and the War Room, as I called it. The set up was wildly confusing. I imagined that this was for anyone who got in—they would never find their way out through the maze.

  We made our way to the War Room. Moranen opened the intricately carved mithrim door, holding it open for me. I stepped inside. It was entirely white, as the Ak-hal preferred. There was a long table, at which sat twelve Ak-hal nobles wearing their red sashes. I was the only woman there. I sat down to the left of Moranen, who sat at one end of the table. His father, Sarita on his arm, entered after us. They sat down at the other end.

  “What are your plans, my son?” the king asked.

  “We are to attack two days after the mating ceremony,” Moranen replied. “A delegation of the Kamani are to attend the mating ceremony. They seek to make a peace treaty with us; peace in exchange for access to the resources that we desire.” That sounded better to me than war and a hostile takeover. I noticed Sarita shooting me a warning look.

  “We are to make them feel welcomed,” Moranen continued. “We are to sign the treaty and then send them back to their people. They will let their guard down. That will be the perfect time to act.” My stomach churned. I felt like I needed to do something. The king nodded.

  “We will attack two days after the mating ceremony,” he agreed. “We will rain fire down upon their ice caves. Despite not knowing them, I wanted to save the Kamani. But I couldn’t even save myself—I couldn’t even speak.

  Chapter 6

  The end of the two weeks spent with the Ak-hal arrived. All of us but five had been chosen as mates—the ones who had sat at the table every morning, alone—they had never been claimed. I just wondered—what made them undesirable? They were gorgeous—model pretty. They had accepted their fate stoically, in silence. Were those not things that the Ak-hal prized?

  Their execution was to come before the mating ceremony. We were awoken in our temporary, dormitory-style rooms early in the morning, hours before the sun would rise. I walked into the bathroom, where I found Clara waiting for me. She greeted me with a smile. This was the first that I had seen of her since the day of my arrival.

  “Congratulations, princess,” she said warmly. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “And you,” I replied, clasping her hands warmly. “Where have you been?”

  “With my mate,” she responded. “When you don’t need help in dressing for formal events, then my duties are with him.” When I glanced around at the group of women gathered in the room, she explained. “Those who aren’t mated to nobles assist them. After this day, many of the others will be in my position.”

  “Can I trust you?” I whispered. “Or are you like Sarita?” She looked me in the eye solemnly, so that I knew that she was telling the truth.

  “You can trust no one here, princess. This is the world of the Ak-hal.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. Her truth confirmed my suspicions—I could trust her to tell me the truth. But if it came down to me against the Ak-hal, I would be on my own. I couldn’t expect her to risk her life to side with me. I didn’t blame her. To survive was our goal here. I steeled myself as she helped me prepare. I was deeply anxious about many parts of today. I looked about me as the tub I sat in filled.

  In the corner, the five girls who were to be executed trembled, tears coursing down their cheeks. I had noticed that the only Ak-hal who had paid them any attention was Rakharo. He loved it when the woman to whom he spoke was terrified. He seemed to feed off it. I hoped that he would never find a mate. The poor woman would suffer her entire life. The mood in the room was tense. No one seemed the least bit excited. Libba, of course, merely seemed pleased. She had been mated to one of the nobles. She resented me for my title as princess, but she was pleased to have status, I believe. After today, she would live out her life, dripping with jewels. She held her chin high as she stepped into her bath.

  Clara washed and dressed my hair. Today, it was done up in an elaborate pouf, with curled tendrils artfully falling out. The headdress I wore was heavy. Two women dressed in black silk carried it in in ceremony on a velvet pillow, both holding it as they placed it upon my head. It was tall and spindly, an elaborate crown with gold flowers and spires that mimicked the castle of the Ak-hal. The dress that I wore was of cream-colored brocade, decorated with a gold pattern. At the neck and the sleeves, it was lined with Kamani pelt. It had a tight bodice, and long sleeves that flared at the cuffs, covering my shaking hands. I might not have been dying, but I could feel the sand in my hourglass running out, grain by miniscule grain.

  Clara painted my face with foundation that made my complexion white—pearlescent, like the Ak-hal. Gold eyeshadow rimmed my lids, bringing out the hazel shade of my eyes. My lips were painted bright crimson—a shade that reminded me of Jenny. The two women returned, each holding a black velvet box. Clara opened the box held by the woman on the left. It contained an intricate gold necklace, with rubies set within its netting. She placed it around my neck, where it hung heavily. She turned and opened the box held by the woman on the right. It held a pair of large ruby earrings. The rubies were shaped like large, bloody teardrops. They tugged on my earlobes.

  The effect of the bloody gems and the ornate crown and the makeup was striking. I looked completely foreign to myself. I had, in the space of two weeks, become a creature of this strange, arctic planet. Shakal, I reminded myself. I had shifted into an alien to my own self. Clara’s face smiled at me proudly. The door to the bathroom opened, and Sarita entered, wearing her own version of the crown that I wore. Hers was far more ornate, set with deep-blue stones. Her makeup was more natural than my own. She smiled, and I loathed her entirely in that moment. It was her fault that I was here.

  “You look stunning,” she said, pride evident in her voice. I kept my mouth closed, for fear of what might come out. “You look worthy of becoming the next princess.” My mind went blank as anger shot through me. I found my mouth free to speak my mind.

  “You’re a bitch,” I hissed. The whole room went silent, the low buzz of conversation going silent in shock. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, something that had been happening far too often for my own introverted comfort. Sarita slapped me across the face, white foundation covering the palm of her hand. The skin of my cheek burned.

  “If you have nothing edifying to say, you will remain quiet. Is that understood?” she yelled powerfully. I said nothing, glaring at her as I held my cheek. “My son deserves the best. From this day forward, you will endeavor to deserve him.” She turned on her heel, her shoes clicking on the tiles of the floor. Clara immediately patched up the foundation on my face. She said nothing, for which I was grateful.

  The sound of drums was loud in the cold dawn. They were deep, insistent, like the beat of my racing heart. The sun was rising, small and golden on the horizon. The five girls stood on a scaffold, set up in the main courtyard of the palace. I stood beside my betrothed, shivering in my elaborate dress. My neck ached from holding up my
head while wearing the crown, and my tiny golden slippers pinched my toes.

  The drums paused, and the five girls knelt down, placing their heads face down on the blood-stained wooden blocks. Their hair had been cut short, so it wouldn’t be in the way of the sword’s final blow. The Ak-hal had taken everything from them—their homes, their lives, even their last words.

  As the sun rose, the shining broadsword in the executioner’s hand swept down, five times. I felt sick. But if I vomited, or showed any sign of weakness, then the Ak-hal might change their minds. There was more pressure on me, as a new royal. When the execution was over, the executioner stepped off the platform, leaving the gore behind him.

  “Come,” Moranen said, holding his hand out to me. I placed my hand within his. I let myself be led inside, Moranen grasping my hand as we went in procession, following the king and queen inside the palace. We walked slowly. We followed them, straight up to the dais, where they sat in their respective chairs. The red lanterns had been removed from the ceiling, and now white ones hung in their place. White streamers and large bunches of the blue flowers dangled beside them. Golden sunlight gave them a warm hue. The floor was strewn with blue petals. I would have found it lovely, had my heart not been pounding in fear and dread. The other pairs to be mated waited in line behind us. The only thought in my mind was that there was nothing for me to do. There was no way out.

  The shaman of the Ak-hal came up to the dais, and stood between Moranen and me. He was dressed in black robes. He had long, flowing black hair. He wore many golden rings on his fingers, and they clinked against a large golden goblet that he held. Around his neck, on a thick golden chain, hung a large chunk of what looked like amber, but seemed to be glowing, pulsating strangely. On his head, there was a large, ornate headdress, reminiscent of the crescent moon, a sliver balanced upon a golden cap on his head. His eyes were golden, and his pupils were black slashes—reptilian. He handed me the golden cup, filled with a dark, viscous liquid.