by Tammy Walsh
“We heard about what happened there,” the farmer said. “Is it as bad as they say?”
“Worse,” I said.
The farmer’s wife used a ladle to dish the stew out into two bowls and placed them on the table before me and Hazel. Then she cut some bread into slices and gave us each a piece.
We dug in. As we had company, we ate slowly. Although, if Hazel was even half as hungry as I was, she could have wolfed it down the same way we did with the bread earlier.
“Those damn Changelings!” the farmer said, slamming his fist on the table.
The farmer’s wife placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder.
“It’s always been take take take with them,” the farmer said. “You give an inch and they take a yard.”
“But the Changelings have never been anything but peaceful with us,” I said. “I mean, they never broke our treaties before.”
The farmer’s wife snorted.
“They’ve broken every treaty we’ve ever made with them,” the farmer’s wife said. “Every chance they got to take advantage, they took. Meanwhile, we let them do it. They stole from us, they attacked us, they even took us as slaves.”
That wasn’t right. I received daily reports from my advisors. Not once had there been any suggestion of a Changeling attack.
Were they ill-informed? If they were, how did I explain the Changelings’ sudden attack?
How could I have missed everything they’d done to us?
They wouldn’t have attacked us suddenly and out of nowhere. We were a powerful adversary to them. They would have attacked us many times over the years.
That was why they were willing to take the risk. They knew we weren’t ready to defend ourselves.
My stomach sank at the obviousness of the truth.
My advisers.
My chief adviser.
Slak.
He chose what information passed to me.
He was the one that informed me of what was happening in the empire.
My empire.
When I created his position, I gave him too much power over me.
I had been a blind fool.
I had trusted him because I saw him as an easy way to rule the empire, a way to rule without having to do any of the work.
I put down my spoon, unable to eat another bite.
“You must be tired,” the farmer’s wife said. “We don’t have any extra beds in the house but you’re welcome to take the loft in the barn. It’s warm and the straw makes good bedding. I can give you blankets and pillows.”
“That would be great, thank you,” Hazel said.
She looked between me and the farmers. They expected me to say something but I was too busy dwelling on my idiocy.
“And could we use your shower?” Hazel said. “We haven’t washed all day.”
“We don’t have any hot water left,” the farmer said. “But you can wash with cold water.”
The farmers formed fists and brought them toward their chests. I performed the same motion back to them, but with a huge sense of guilt pressing down on me.
These people had relied on their emperor to protect them.
And I had betrayed them, heart and soul.
How could I have been so stupid?
Letting Slak decide what news I would receive? What I would base my decisions on?
But it was worse than that.
I made no decisions.
He made them.
Then he gave me the documents I needed to sign, documents that would make me do what he wanted me to do.
This whole time, I might have been the emperor, but I had not been the leader.
Slak had been in charge.
Had he worked alone? Or had he recruited the help of the other advisers?
Were they innocent?
No. They couldn’t be.
On the rare occasions I asked questions, the advisers stepped forward and provided the information I needed. They told me whatever they had to to ensure I signed their damn documents.
They had already agreed on what I ought to know and what I shouldn’t.
They were the corrupt officials I was supposed to protect the empire from.
I was a fool.
I hadn’t noticed the water was ice cold when I washed in it. It did nothing to sharpen my senses. I felt even more tired afterward.
My mind was still buzzing with those thoughts of my traitors.
The empire’s traitors.
But ultimately, I had to accept responsibility. For the countless who had died, the honest, the innocent. All of them had died because of my negligence and stupidity.
The Creator forgive me. Let me make it up to my people. Please.
The farmer’s wife led us up the ladder and into the barn’s loft. She left the oil lamp on. It revealed a pallet in the corner with hay and a rough woolen blanket strewn across it.
“I’ll leave the ladder up,” the farmer’s wife said. “In case you need to visit the toilet during the night.”
“Thank you,” Hazel said.
The farmer’s wife smiled kindly and descended the ladder.
“This was a stroke of luck, huh?” Hazel said.
She spread the fresh sheet the farmer’s wife had given us over the pallet. She did the same with the thick blanket and placed both pillows on the bed.
Evidently, she expected us to sleep together again.
At least there was one positive thing about this whole situation.
“Are you okay?” she said.
She looked at me pensively.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You seem a little… distracted.”
What should I tell her? How much should I reveal?
Did I trust her?
Yes, entirely. She was the last person in the world who would run off to tell somebody about who I was. She didn’t even know anybody, for a start.
She placed her hands on my shoulders and worked at my tense muscles.
It felt good, and I groaned with satisfaction
“We should use that Healer’s Touch medicine on your skin,” she said. “With any luck, it’ll be fully healed by tomorrow. I can’t wait to see what you look like.”
What I look like.
Every Titan in the Empire knew what I looked like. One glance at my face and they would know who I was. Even dressed in my rags.
But I could not face them.
Not yet.
Not when I knew so many innocent lives rested on my shoulders.
And Hazel…
How could I face her after she knew what I had caused?
Hazel fetched the package of flowers and opened it.
“How do we prepare them?” she said. “Do I need to mash up the petals or something?”
“No,” I said. “The ointment is already inside the flower. You just need to reach inside and apply it to the affected area.”
Hazel did, beginning with my back, arms, and legs.
When she reached for my face, I pulled back.
“Just a little more,” she said.
It wasn’t the stinging sensation of the ointment as it was placed on my skin that bothered me. I didn’t want Titans to know who I was.
“Maybe you shouldn’t put it on my face,” I said.
“Why not?” she said. “I’ve been dying to see what you look like under there.”
“Maybe you won’t like what you see.”
“And maybe I will. Don’t be such a baby.”
She dabbed a little more ointment on her fingers and leaned forward.
I pulled back.
She searched my eyes and frowned.
“You really don’t want me to put it on your face, do you?” she said.
I couldn’t answer her. If I did, she would ask the obvious question: Why?
And what would I tell her?
What would make sense?
Who didn’t want to recover from their burn wounds?
I decided to change the subject.
&
nbsp; “I didn’t know Changelings had attacked us for so many years,” I said. “They’ve been attacking us forever, making us their slaves and killing us. What sort of emperor lets that happen?”
Hazel sat back on her heels.
“A bad one, I guess,” she said. “But maybe he didn’t do it on purpose.”
“How could he not know?” I said. “It’s his responsibility to know.”
“Sometimes people make the wrong decisions. It’s not his fault the Changelings attacked. Maybe he could have arranged better defenses. But it’s not his fault the Changelings decided to take over the empire. At least, I don’t blame him.”
She had an innocent look in her eye. She really didn’t know I was the one we were talking about.
And was she right? Was it not my fault?
I hadn’t intentionally attacked the empire or allowed for it to be taken over. I would never do anything like that. The advisors were the real traitors. They must have worked with the Changelings, making it easier for them to overthrow the empire.
I was guilty of negligence, nothing more.
My lips quirked into a smile. Hazel was right.
And if I was going to get a shot at a second chance, I was going to need to show my face. The Titans would need to know their emperor was still alive.
I nodded to her.
“Give me the ointment, please,” I said.
Hazel leaned forward and smeared it over my injured face. Once she had covered every inch, she leaned back.
“There,” she said. “All done.”
She yawned, and it took up her entire face.
“Let’s go to bed,” she said. “With any luck, we’ll arrive at the Fallen Temple tomorrow.”
Hazel stripped off her clothes, folded them up, and placed them on a rickety wooden chair. I watched as her naked form slipped underneath the blankets.
I removed my clothes and joined her.
There was still a chill in the loft, but enough for us to have to sleep together naked again?
I didn’t think so.
What did that mean?
Did it mean anything?
Hazel turned her back to me as she had the previous night.
I wrapped my arms around her, once again rock hard and probing at her soft thighs.
My nostrils were full of her scent. She was intoxicating, overpowering.
I needed to taste her. Just a little.
Maybe if I did it without her knowing?
I lowered my face to her back as if I was only getting comfortable. I pressed my lips to the soft skin of her shoulders. I gently caressed her and watched how she reacted.
She didn’t. Perhaps she was already asleep.
So, I tasted her again.
She tasted sweet—of desire and longing. I was probably only tasting myself.
I gently caressed her with my tongue.
A single prod.
The taste of her turned my brain to goo.
Goosebumps popped up over her back. The epicenter was right where my tongue had touched her.
I cuddled up closer to her.
She surprised me when she ran her fingers through mine.
She wasn’t asleep.
She was still awake.
Hazel took my hand and placed it on her stomach. Then, with my mouth turning dry, she raised my hand up her body to her breast.
Just as she had probably done last night, except I’d been fast asleep.
I felt the hardness of her nipple and squeezed it between my thumb and forefinger.
Her breath hitched in her throat and she let out a little moan. She ran her leg over mine.
She turned her head and looked at me over her shoulder.
The look of longing, of passion, and intense heat, was painted plainly on her face.
She turned to face me, her breasts hanging just inches from my lips.
She perched her head on her hand. She kept her eyes focused on mine and didn’t remove them as she lifted her leg, opening herself to me.
I could see the sprigs of hair around her slit were already damp.
My cock rested just inches below on her thigh.
Her breath was heavy. So was mine.
I thought about her fiancé and how distraught he would be to see us.
But he wasn’t here.
I was.
He was millions of miles away on a distant planet.
He might as well not exist.
He didn’t exist.
Not to me.
I wanted her.
She wanted me.
I slid forward and pressed my lips against hers.
She let out a shuddering breath and sucked on my bottom lip.
“Mm,” she said. “I wondered what that tasted like.”
I pressed myself against her. My cock rubbed against her wetness. I still hadn’t entered her yet, but I would.
Boy, I would.
I took her nipple in my mouth and flicked at it with my tongue. I squeezed her other breast with my hand and pinched the nipple hard.
She ran her hands through my hair.
“Do it,” she whispered in my ear. “Take me.”
She didn’t need to tell me twice.
I took my cock in hand and leveled it at her opening.
Chitter.
Chitter. Chitter.
I froze.
Please no.
Please not now.
“What’s wrong?” Hazel said.
“Nothing,” I wanted to say, and slam inside her, but I couldn’t.
Not if I was right about that noise.
Please tell me I’m imagining things.
These Changelings were seriously going to pay for this.
I got to my feet and approached the wall. I peered through one of the tiny holes. I angled for a better view.
That’s when I saw them, tucked inside that tiny spotlight circle.
The farmer led a pair of armed Changeling soldiers toward the barn.
He murmured something to them and pointed at the loft.
Our loft.
I turned to Hazel. She clutched the blanket to herself.
“What is it?” she said.
“We have to leave,” I said. “Now.”
Hazel
Fiath tossed me my clothes and I hastily put them on.
I couldn’t believe it. Of all the times for the Changelings to discover us, why now?
“How did they find us?” I said.
“The farmer,” Fiath said, pulling on his pants. “He’s leading them right to us.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He probably has no choice. When there’s no one there to support him and his family, he’d have felt forced to turn to anyone who would.”
Still, you did not betray your own species, I thought. But I left that argument for later.
“How do we get out of here?” I said.
It was a barn. There was one way in and one way out.
Fiath lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Follow me,” he said.
He climbed down the ladder and waited at the bottom while I followed after him. He took me by the hand and led me in a low crouch toward the cow-like animals sleeping and stamping their feet. I double took the udders hanging down with a dozen different teats.
I sure wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
Fiath tugged me so our backs were against the wall and we were face to face with the sleeping cows. Their eyes were shut and they snorted loudly.
Fiath’s plan was a simple one.
The changing soldiers would come in, assume we were in the loft, and head up the ladder. Once they reached the top, we would make our escape through the barn door and out into the forest.
Fiath placed his finger to his lips for me to be silent as the Changelings eased the barn door open and stepped inside.
I could only make out their legs through the gap beneath the sleeping cow-like creatures. Their long spindly legs stepped slowly, carefully. I imagined them clu
tching their weapons close, aiming up at the loft.
I caught only one glimpse of them head to toe as they passed between two cows. They looked identical to my eyes. Their bodies were encased in a hard brown outer shell and a dozen black eyes stared, unblinking. One nodded to the other.
While one of the soldiers maintained his position in the middle of the barn, the other approached the ladder.
They weren’t both going up the ladder.
One was remaining down here.
I panicked. I could see the situation playing out right before my eyes. The one heading up the ladder would learn we weren’t up there. He’d warn the other creature below. Then they would search the barn.
It wouldn’t take long for them to discover us.
Fiath reached for an empty metal bucket that sat to one side and held it by its wooden handle. It had twelve different sections, one for each udder. The farmers must use it to milk the creature with.
What was he intending on using it for?
I saw the determination on his face and got a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach.
He was going to use it as a bludgeon.
I rested my hand on his arm and shook my head. Don’t do it.
They had advanced weapons. He was reduced to swinging a bucket. He would get hurt.
He placed his hand on mine and smiled reassuringly at me.
I melted beneath his caring expression and I relented.
He stood and raised a hand to me. Stay here, it said.
I hated letting him go by himself but what could I do except get in the way?
Fiath eased up into a crouch and placed a hand on the nearest cow-like creature, soothing them to keep quiet as he edged toward its rear-end.
The first Changeling took one step at a time up that rickety old ladder. If we were asleep up there, he didn’t want to wake us.
He was already two-thirds of the way up. And he didn’t need to take every step to see we weren’t there. The bed was empty, the blankets hastily tossed aside. There was little else we could hide behind. I cursed myself for not thinking to make up the bed with random items. It would have bought us a little more time.
Fiath was in position. He peered around the cow-like creature’s rear-end and eyed the Changeling on the ground floor.
With the Changeling up the ladder about to peer over the edge of the loft, Fiath took two strides out from cover.
The Changeling started, spying movement out the corner of his eyes.
Fiath swung the bucket around and smacked the soldier across the head. He fell, clattering, to the ground.