Queen's Ransom: The Golden Bulls of Minos

by Isabel Wroth

  She touched a trembling kiss to the baby's brow, and with shaking hands set him in Jalia's arms. Having never held a baby before in her life, it took her a moment to steady herself under his weight,

  "He's beautiful," she murmured, carefully reaching out to take Renaya's hand before turning away and climbing the dais back up to where Dhega sat, watching her through narrow eyes.

  Jalia fought to show no sign of the anxiety churning within her, not knowing if her bluff was going to pay off, or if the gamble was even worth it. But she had to know exactly what kind of man she was risking her life for.

  She kicked her bloodied skirt out of the way and knelt between Dhega's spread knees, ignoring the whispers that ran through the gallery and Renaya's choked sound of terror.

  Kypris was fully awake now, looking up at her with the cutest frown on his face. Like he was trying to figure out if she was the one who had the milk or not. Dhega's thighs tensed against her sides, but she didn't look up to test his anger.

  "Have you ever held a baby, your highness?"

  His voice was terse and clipped, "No."

  "Me either. He's heavier than I expected. Here." Jalia lifted the baby and pressed him to Dhega's chest, giving him little choice other than to sit there looking like a boob or take the baby.

  Thankfully, he was too surprised by her movement, and instinctively his arms came up to awkwardly cradle Kypris.

  Dhega looked at her askance, like she'd just shoved a sack of shit into his arms, but the widening of his eyes told her he was simply startled and uncertain as to why she was forcing him to hold a baby.

  Jalia hummed and stroked his powerful arms as she stood up, moving around to stand at his shoulder so she could look down at the little boy.

  He gurgled and waved his baby fist as he kicked his feet, his lips peeling back to show Dhega his toothless gums.

  How Dhega managed to keep a straight face and not melt was beyond her. Jalia was sunk, totally enamored of the tiny creature. She was still smiling when she spoke,

  "Your monarchies aren't hereditary. It wouldn't matter if Mecisistos ever had a child as his successor would have to be chosen based on his ability to survive the labyrinths.

  “Which makes me think the severity of the punishment was more about ensuring no one would ever dare even to consider betraying you ever again, versus guaranteeing the princes would never sire children.

  “When you sentenced them to death, you knew the princes would place their own lives above that of their wives and any children they sired.

  "Renaya and Hymina are here, making no excuses, not condemning you as a cruel, murderous bastard, begging you to show mercy to their children, and I can't tell whether or not you care.

  “If you can look into this little face that's known absolutely nothing of his parents and grandparents’ trespasses against you, who had no say in his conception or birth, and you still condemn him to death? Then you kill him yourself."

  "Woman, you have no right—"

  "You wanted to know what kind of queen I could be?" she interrupted, still bent over, still smiling at Kypris's gurgling giggles.

  "Well, now you know. One who'll dare to call you a cruel, murderous bastard and demand you kill the innocent babies you callously condemn, with your own gods-be-damned hands.

  “Because if that's the kind of king you are, I'll excuse myself from this contest, and not look back."

  "You dare make threats—"

  "It's not a threat. It's a promise, Dhega. If you want a queen who will stand aside and silently watch while you condemn children to death, I suggest you turn your attention towards Akeyko or Cockinti.

  “If you bring them out here right now, they'll probably cheer you on while you snap this little boy's neck like a twig. Fark, Akeyko would be delighted to do it for you.

  "Mecisistos, his brothers, Renaya's father, they betrayed you. They swore loyalty to you and turned right around to spit in your face.

  “They deserve your judgment and their punishment. This baby has done nothing to you. And while you're thinking about it, maybe consider what punishment any other Minoan would receive for murdering a pregnant woman."

  Jalia held her breath when Dhega fell silent, scowling into Kypris's face, studying it carefully. "And when he is grown enough to seek revenge?"

  "That day will not come for a long time, but when it does, he'll have to prove himself worthy to challenge you by running the labyrinths just like everyone else."

  Dhega heaved an aggrieved sigh, and her heart leaped with hope,

  "I notice you fail to mention the princesses’ part in her herd-sires betrayal. I assume you believe her when she says she was given no choice other than to marry Mecisistos?"

  "You had her father and brothers killed. Her sister is dead at the hands of her husband—who's still alive by the way—and she has still come before you and everyone else here in rags, assuming she's going to die either by your hand or her husband's and is begging you for the life of her son. Where's the logic in her lying?"

  Dhega grunted, nudging Kypris's fist with a thick finger, those harsh lips of his twitching ever so slightly when Kypris grabbed hold and jerked, startling the king with his gleeful squeal and gummy grin. Just when Dhega was about to smile back, he harrumphed and tugged his finger away.

  "Take him back to his mother and then take your seat."

  Jalia was so relieved she couldn't help but press a kiss to Dhega's cheek and gather up the baby, cooing at him all the way back down the stairs, mock-groaning as she set him back in the loving embrace of his mother's waiting arms.

  It felt like the entire gallery was holding their breath while Dhega drew out making his decision.

  Jalia's heart knocked against her ribs so hard it hurt, and when she glanced up at the balcony above, she saw Tom standing in the shadows with a little smirk on his narrow face.

  "On the day I learned of the treason committed by the princes of Bull Island, I sentenced them to death on the birth of their first child.

  “I stand by my judgment, and as you are here before me, Princess Renaya—carrying your husband's child in your arms—I wonder why Mecisistos is not dead. Nivir?"

  Dhega's tawny haired second in command gave a sweeping bow. "I will escort them to the Red Gates personally, your majesty."

  "And Hymina?" Renaya called out bravely. Jalia nodded to acknowledge the size of her balls but kept her face forward, feeling Dhega's gaze burning into her.

  "When will she give birth?" Dhega asked, his tone stating very clearly, he was nearing the end of his benevolence.

  Renaya shrugged, glancing at her sister. "Any day now."

  "Mantios as well, Nivir."

  "Certainly, my king."

  Dhega gave the arm of his seat a thump with his fist, and Jalia began to breathe a little easier. So, he was a cruel bastard, but he wasn't unreasonable, and he didn't kill babies. That had to count for something.

  "You will stay here at Letau until the birth of your child, Hymina. After you have recovered adequately, you and your sister may return to Bull Island or to what remains of your herd with the entirety of your husband's wealth at your disposal.

  “I would caution you to teach your children not to repeat the mistakes of their sires. Lyra will see you to your rooms."

  *****

  "Thank you, for giving the princesses another chance."

  Jalia looked up at Dhega as he led her from the grand hall to a small, private balcony.

  The fresh air was wonderful, as was the quiet. Just the sound of the wind, the rumble of the sea against the shore far below, bird songs.

  She looked around and had to admit, Rysor 12 was starting to look like a private collection of hovels in comparison to the splendor of Minos.

  Up went one of his sculpted brows, amusement dancing in the deep gold of his gaze. It reminded her of the way her oldest brother looked at her when he thought she was being stupid, humoring her to see what she'd say next to make him laugh.

  But
unlike Jared—General Stick Up His Ass who commanded a fleet of UC battlecruisers and roamed space policing and oppressing whoever his superiors told him to—Dhega was one of the most powerful beings she had ever faced.

  Not merely a physical presence, but that inner core of strength. He was determined, arrogant as hell, standing there making assumptions Jalia wasn't sure she approved of.

  "You think I did it for them?" he asked, giving a mocking chuckle.

  "What, you did it because I asked?" she scoffed, "I don't think so. You did it because you knew publicly killing a baby would make your people hate you."

  "They already hate me."

  "No, they're terrified of you," Jalia corrected.

  "And you aren't?" he drawled, his tone colored with mild derision.

  Jalia narrowed her eyes at him thoughtfully, wondering why he was suddenly being such an asshole.

  "No. Why are you angry with me?"

  "Am I angry?"

  "Typically, when someone refuses to answer a question with anything but another question, they're either hiding something or they're angry and trying to provoke the other person into doing something to give them a reason for that anger. I tend to have that effect on the men in my life."

  "What, making them angry?"

  "Yes," Jalia licked her dry lips, her uncertainty of what type of angry man Dhega was. Did he yell? Would he strike her? Attempt to humiliate her?

  The unknown, that had to be the reason she was suddenly a little light-headed. She was not going to tremble or shake with nerves—definitely nerves, and not arousal. She was just overheated from being...being provoked.

  Her temper! Yes, those wicked tendrils of heat licking up between her thighs had nothing to do with arousal—and make him think he could tower over her like this, intimidate her whenever it pleased him.

  Her father's voice was like the crack of a whip across her thoughts, Show no weakness! Never let anyone see your weakness! You'll forever more be nothing but a coward in their eyes.

  Jalia hadn't become a soldier or a doctor, or a techno-whiz. She was an embarrassment, a degenerate gambler, but showing weakness at a gaming table was the same as showing weakness on the battlefield. It gave away any and all advantages one might have to win.

  "How many men do you have in your life?" That was a definite growl, the spark of jealousy pronounced as he crowded her back against the rail, his lashes lowering dangerously over his eyes.

  Jealousy. Possessiveness. Would this man who cradled a child carefully in inexperienced hands, be the sort who would turn on her in violence if he felt something that belonged to him was coveted by another? Did he think she belonged to him? How curious.

  "I have three brothers and a father who find me to be the most troublesome, trying, disagreeable female in the universe.

  “I'm certain if my father wasn't such a disciplined man who disapproved of vices in whatever form they take, I'd have driven him to drink."

  She forced herself not to flinch when he raised his hand, to stay perfectly still no matter what he did, prepared for the worst.

  But she was most definitely unprepared for the gentle stroke of one finger down the slope of her cheek.

  One finger, and Jalia found herself wanting to turn her face into the tiny caress.

  She wasn't a virgin. No shy, inexperienced woman, and even back when she had been inexperienced, she hadn't ever been shy.

  Jalia felt that tickle of shyness now, because no one had ever touched her so gently, or looked at her with such heat. Dhega was angry, but Jalia was willing to bet it wasn't with her.

  "I had that dress created for you, and you never even hesitated to use the material to staunch the flow of blood from the boy's wounds."

  Okay, so maybe he was a little bit angry with her. "He was in pain, and it was all I had to help."

  "It was reckless of you to rush to his aid. He could have had a weapon. He could have hurt you." Jalia was speechless long enough for Dhega to trail his finger down her arm, down to tug her palm from behind her so he could examine the spiderweb of lines still pink and angry looking from her near-death experience.

  He was angry because she could have been hurt.

  Of all the things she might have expected him to say, to feel, it wasn't concern for her wellbeing.

  He was scowling at the marks on her hand, his touch careful as he swept his thumb over them, like the sight of them was cause enough for offense. What a strange, complicated creature.

  "You understand those two princesses are the reason you're here now, don't you?" he grunted in a challenging tone. Like it was a bad thing.

  How could it be a bad thing? She was standing on the balcony of a palace, on an isolated planet with pink sand beaches, and yes, she could very well die in the next few days, but right now, the way this monstrous king was looking at her, touching her, it felt worth it.

  "You're right. I should be thanking them, not you." Dhega's eyes shot up, widening with surprise as he searched her face for sincerity.

  "You were very generous with them; did you maybe regret your decision? Just a little bit?"

  And just like that, she said the wrong thing. The sensual heat in his gaze snuffed out like a candle flame, his features turning to granite as he stepped back and dropped her hand like it was scalding hot.

  "I regret nothing, Marchesa, and it is they who should be thanking you."

  *****

  Dhega stood on a private balcony, watching Jalia taking a sunset stroll with her attendants at her side and five of his guards trailing a respectful distance behind them.

  Jalia climbed up on one of the many round boulders and turned to face the wind, lifting her arms as though she was embracing the feeling of it as it rushed past her.

  The skirt of her dress whipped around her legs, her hair was once again back to its earlier magenta, and he swore he could hear the echo of her laughter carried to him on the air.

  Turju's words came back to haunt him. You are changed, my friend. You are changed with her.

  It was glaringly obvious now that Turju was right.

  Had Renaya and Hymina come before him today while any of the other alien females had sat in judgment with him, Dhega would have indeed raised his hand and abandoned the princesses to their fate. He most certainly would not have ordered the princesses to stay in the palace until Hymina birthed her babe, neither would he have gifted the wealth of their traitorous husbands to them.

  Jalia had not raised her voice loud enough to be heard by anyone other than him when she had come carrying Renaya's boy, pushing the infant into his arms.

  She had smiled at the baby, making threats in a firm, husky murmur, demanding if Dhega was to allow the baby to be killed, he do it with his own hands then and there in front of everyone.

  It would have been an effective way to show his people he did not tolerate betrayal from those around him—and he had considered it—but under Jalia's gaze, the thought of killing the boy became abhorrent. During his reign, Dhega had done things many condemned him for.

  He had killed, ordered the death of innocents to quell the fire of further rebellion, and vindictively he sat upon a throne made of traitor's horns.

  A warning to all who came before him seeking justice. He had willingly given his people reason to call him cruel and monstrous, knowing they lived in fear of his wrath.

  Dhega touched his cheek, still able to feel the phantom touch of her kiss Jalia had given him and wondered again what power it was she had to bespell him.

  By not speaking loud enough for all to hear, Jalia had given him the option to be benevolent instead of merciless, and the gallery filled with onlookers had audibly sighed with relief when he handed the babe back to Jalia unharmed.

  The clever human had allowed him to explain the death sentence he had placed upon the princes of Bull Island, and see it carried out.

  None had objected, and in the faces closest to him, Dhega had seen nods of agreement and heard murmurs of satisfaction.

&nb
sp; He had maintained his authority, his absolute will, while making it seem like the murder of Adasia and the threat to Renaya's child was another reason for the princes of Bull Island to die.

  Jalia had allowed him to grant the princesses mercy without appearing soft, or weak, and it was blatantly clear the people of Minos present to witness this were enamored of the Marchesa who would be their queen.

  And there was no doubt about it, of all the others who had come to Minos hoping to secure themselves a place at his side, he wanted Jalia there, but at the same time he was wary. She hadn't been here but two weeks, and already Dhega was questioning himself at every turn, and the questions all seemed to be the same,

  If I do this, what will Jalia think of me?

  Not one time since taking the throne of Minos as his own, had Dhega ever cared to base his decisions on what someone else thought of him, yet he did so now almost constantly.

  Jalia's opinion of him mattered, and he stood there watching her trying to figure out why until she disappeared from his sight, with no answers that made any sense.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "Oh gods, what's that smell?"

  Jalia gagged as she was led into the small antechamber, clapping her hand over her mouth and nose, trying not to breathe too deeply of the stench of rotten meat and putrid unwashed flesh combined with something metallic and musty.

  Jalia tried to breathe through her mouth, but the smell was so thick she could taste it, and the taste was even worse than the smell...she gagged again.

  "Cockinti failed the challenge," Dhega explained, looking at her from behind the long table where several of the princes also sat.

  Most of them were sweating, so nauseated they were green and pressing cloths to their faces to try and filter out the stink.

  Dhega's nostrils were flared, his lips twisted with disgust, but other than that he appeared perfectly unaffected.

  Jalia suddenly realized what Dhega meant, and while she was thrilled to learn Cockinti was dead, the stink came from what naturally occurred upon death. The loosening of one's bowels.