by Isabel Wroth
Jalia pointed at him with a solemn nod, "Excellent point. Thank you for bringing that up, your highness. Do not mistake me.
“I am in no way suggesting we put pistols and rifles in the hands of every man, woman, and child on Minos.
“I am suggesting, should an outside force of any number breach the nebula, we have the ability to defend the planet and the people.
"As it stands, the only reason no one has invaded is most likely due to the rumor, no ship or being can survive passing through the nebula, and if they do, they're executed. Never to be seen or heard from again.
“Several people from many different species have now come and gone from Minos, and the myth and rumor protecting the planet is about to be questioned. That's your only defense, people. A rumor. I'm suggesting you make it a fact. That's all."
Jalia looked to Dhega to try and gauge his thoughts, only to find him staring at her through narrow eyes, rubbing his lips in the way she had come to identify as his thinking face.
He beckoned her with a crook of his finger, rising to meet her and to lift her down off the table top, unceremoniously sitting back down with her on his lap.
It was right then, things started to go sideways.
*****
Dhega kept her on his lap, his palm finding its preferred place at her hip, keeping her seated when a prince she didn't recognize stood up and looked down the length of the table at them with what she could only describe as an evil, hateful glare.
"I find this all to be incredibly...convenient."
He was almost as large and physically imposing as Dhega, his body one big stack of muscles that looked as though they didn't quit. His skin was a deep, rich brown, accentuated by the blood red material draped over one large shoulder.
He seemed to have gold embedded in the skin around his neck and shoulders, a glittering collar of geometric shapes and small dots.
The one nipple she could see had a gold hoop piercing it, as did his nose, both eyebrows, his flat ears where they sat just beneath his regal horns.
Utterly bald, Jalia decided he was the most exotic and terrifyingly handsome bull—other than Dhega—in the room. If there hadn't been that hateful gleam in his eye, Jalia might have found him attractive.
"Antemion, don't." Kalphius sighed wearily, as though he'd heard whatever Antemion had to say and was tired of it.
"Don't what?" the dusky skinned bull snarled, "Don't say what we're all thinking? Don't say our way of life, the impenetrable shield of the nebula, wasn't put in danger by our noble king's cock?
“Don't say that if not for the presence of so many alien women and their ridiculous entourages, we all wouldn't be sitting here listening to some wench lecture us on the safety of our people, when she herself is very much a threat?
“For all we know she has an armada of ships already in place, preparing to invade as we speak—"
Isandros leaped to his feet and boldly faced down the much larger bull, leaning forward across the table with a threatening toss of his hand,
"That's exactly her point, you hairless monstrosity! We don't know, because we don't have the technology to protect our own palaces, let alone the planet were we to be invaded! We have the coin and the time now to prepare, but if you have your way, an invasion would be upon us before you acknowledged the real threat."
"Do not speak to me of protecting our palaces, boy! No one at this table agreed to see you made a prince of Bull Island, and you haven't even set foot in your palace to say whether or not it needs protecting!" Antemion roared back.
"I agreed," Turju stated, lifting his hand with a bored flare.
"So did I," Kalphius grunted, shaking his head with disapproval. Several other princes raised their hands to say they had voted Isandros into his seat at the northern palace of Bull Island, which only seemed to piss Antemion off more.
Dhega hadn't said a word, his muscles getting progressively tighter and tighter beneath her, his grip on her thigh almost bruising.
Jalia noticed Daegana watching the spectacle from his seat with this hopeful gleam in his eye, and when Dhega finally did speak, that gleam turned into a smile that was there and gone again before anyone but she, noticed.
"I accept your challenge," Dhega stated firmly, calmly, as though he wasn't vibrating with fury, and for a moment there was silence.
Jalia had to bite down on her tongue to keep from making a sound, holding her breath because surely, he hadn't just said that.
Even Antemion seemed momentarily flustered, as though he hadn't been expecting Dhega to respond at all.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You should be begging, you idiot," someone muttered.
Dhega stood up and gently pushed her aside, his focus given solely to the male snarling and spitting bile.
Jalia's stomach churned with uneasiness, hoping Dhega wasn't about to do what she was terrified he was about to do.
"As you so clearly blame me for putting our way of life in danger and have no care to see Minos made stronger.
“Perhaps you would serve the planet and the people much better, Antemion. Protect them from outside threats without the help of my alien wench, while relying on this impenetrable nebula you yourself have never set eyes on.
“I accept your challenge. Is there anyone else here who feels the same? If so, speak up, no need to draw this out. We will all enter the Red Labyrinth tomorrow together."
All Jalia could do to protest without making a scene, was set her suddenly shaking hand to Dhega's back. He didn't look at her, but reached for her hand and squeezed tightly, still staring Antemion down.
The stupid bastard had the intelligence to know he'd gone too far, but it was too late. He tried anyway, glancing around the table as though someone might help him.
"I made no challenge, your majesty. I only speak my mind."
Jalia could only see half of Dhega's face, but what she saw made her mouth run dry.
His expression was completely devoid of expression. His eyes colder than ice, dead like the eyes of her doll. He didn't move, he didn't look away, and Jalia could see Antemion's throat work,
"You may speak your mind, Antemion, but the moment you insult me, insult my woman who has gone through the same trials as all of you here and earned her place to sit at this table, call her a wench?
“You made your challenge. We will run the Red together, and you will not emerge alive. Is there. Anyone. Else?"
Every prince at the table clamped his lips shut, no one spoke up to help Antemion, and after several tense moments, Dhega gave a satisfied grunt.
"Very well. Hiero?" one of the warriors standing by the door stepped forward at Dhega's call, stern-faced and at attention. "See to it the preparations for the celebration continue in my absence."
"Yes, your majesty. Shall I have your throne ready to receive another pair of horns as well?"
Dhega didn't smile, he gave a slow, cruel grin, and Antemion gulped audibly. "Yes. The meeting is adjourned. All of you will be present and prepared to leave at first light, am I clear?"
No one dared to refuse.
*****
Once again Dhega found himself sitting beside his queen, watching her sleep. It had been the most productive meeting of all the living princes since he had claimed the throne.
Watching Jalia strut up and down the length of the council table wearing no jewels, no crown, only a simple white dress to flatter the deep tan she had changed her skin to, and the golden wealth of curls shining around her head, lecturing them all on their arrogance...his chest has been tight with pride, and his cock on fire with lust.
She was a constant surprise, voicing her concerns to him in private about not having what it took to be a queen, yet acting as though she had been born to the role the moment she was given opportunity.
Antemion had indeed voiced what Dhega knew many were thinking, and before anyone had gotten it into their heads to threaten him, Dhega had made the challenge himself.
If anyone of those pamp
ered, entitled, blind fools thought they could take Dhega's place and do a better job, he welcomed the opportunity to let them try.
Jalia was frightened, not for her safety—though she had brought it up and loudly the moment they were alone—she was terrified of losing him to the Red Labyrinth, infuriated that after all she had suffered to be with him, Dhega turned right around and set himself up to die.
Panic had made her eyes roll a little white, her outrage that he didn't just order half the table of princes killed on the spot instead of risking himself turned her cheeks an ashen gray.
Her breasts had heaved with the effort in which she shouted at him that his grand-sire wanted this, he wanted Dhega to run the labyrinth again, and how could he be so stupid as to give the old bastard anything he wanted.
Dhega did his best to assure her it had to be done no matter Degana's wishes, but there was no denying her rage aroused him to the point of madness.
Their coupling had been violent at first, hard and angry, but once the first wave of bliss had pulled back the desperate tide of emotion, they had spent hours tenderly wrapped around one another, not speaking, only touching and loving. Sharing whatever time they had left together as close as two souls could be.
Dhega gave his most solemn vow he would not die tomorrow, and a trickle of tears fell down her flushed cheeks.
"How can you possibly make me a promise like that?" the ache in her voice cut deep, but there was hope in her eyes as she searched his face.
"I have everything in the universe to live for, Jalia. I will face death however many times I must, for one more kiss from you."
Dhega had held her, brushing kisses across her face until she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.
She would need her rest, and he did too, but he was bursting with energy. It had happened each time he was to face the labyrinth, a restlessness no amount of activity could burn off, humming through him.
He wanted to spend the evening with Jalia, but his feet took him out to the balcony where he pulled deep lungfuls of the cool sea air and looked out at the city that hadn't been his home until she came.
The moon was full and high, turning the surface of the sea silver. The scent of the night-blooming flowers was beautiful, sultry and thick.
As he leaned forward on the wide ledge of the balcony rail, Dhega admitted to himself he wanted to grow old here, with her.
Antemion was a mild threat, more noise than actual brute force, his size and vitriol were more of a danger than anything else. But for all his disrespectful tones and distrustful nature, Antemion's hate made him weak. I
t made him predictable, easy to rile, easy to distract. No doubt why Daegana had chosen Antemion to be his puppet. The old man was the least of his concerns now and would be dealt with once the challenge was over.
The Red Labyrinth was made of gears and metal, but it was a ravenous beast, always thirsty for more blood.
There was no room for weakness or fear within the maze, but it was almost impossible to face the deathtrap without feeling an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and dread.
Dhega had spent his entire childhood facing his fear of the Red Labyrinth, of his grandfather, of death.
When the time came to take his turn within the Maze of Two Souls, the only thing left to be afraid of was disappointing his dead parents. Failing to succeed.
Now, he was afraid of what would happen to Jalia if he did fall tomorrow. He was afraid of what his stupid, foolish people would do to her, how they would blame her, hang their fears and vulnerability around her fragile neck and try to choke her with them.
He wanted to grow old with her? Wanted to see her kept safe? His only option was to succeed, and he would, but just in case...
"If I fall, make sure she leaves the planet safely."
Tom appeared from the shadows as though he had been part of them, as though he had been waiting for Dhega to speak.
"I could make it look like a suicide." Dhega frowned at Tom's offer, uncertain of his meaning or if he should be alarmed. "Everyone would wake tomorrow, prepared to go to Antaeus, and Antemion wouldn't show up.
“You'd send someone to find him and be brought the report that he'd hung himself. Slit his own throat. Jumped from the balcony sometime in the night. Or I could be creative."
Dhega found himself almost smiling, wondering what it meant for an assassin to get creative, "No. If not Antemion tomorrow, it would be another later. It must be done, but if I fall, make her leave."
For a moment the assassin silently stared back at him, his gaze probing for a few moments before he answered.
"Croft is still here, and the ship will be close by. I'll get her out."
Dhega had always thought he would die in the labyrinths, challenged by someone younger and faster, but now...now, it was exactly as he'd told Jalia.
He had everything in the universe to live for. Dhega had every intention of keeping his vow to her, but the maze would do it's best to make a liar of him. It always did.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jalia tried to be strong, to keep the tears off her cheeks and out of her voice, standing with Dhega in the holding area beneath the labyrinth.
They stood brow to brow, her hands on his chest, his hands curled around hers, the sound of the mechanical moving parts beneath the maze and the thunder of the stadium full of people above so loud she knew he could barely hear her, the scent of death so thick it was hard to think of anything else,
"I need you to come back to me."
Dhega guided her hands to link behind his neck as he wrapped her up tightly in his enormous arms, and for those few precious seconds, everything was alright.
"I will not fall."
"I'll be waiting." Jalia clung to him, not ready to let go. He captured her mouth in a hard, almost punishing kiss that rocked her entire body and tore away from her without a backward glance.
She pressed her hands to her mouth to hold back the sobs that built, not wanting it to be the last sound he heard her make, silently watching as the platform he stepped up on started to rise to the surface.
"He will be alright, my lady," Nivir said from behind her, coming to take Dhega's place in front of her.
She looked up at him in desperation, so afraid she could barely breathe.
"How can you be so sure?"
Nivir smiled, reaching out to help her lift her chin, "Because no force in this world could willingly take him from you. Come on; they will not begin until you take your place on his throne.
“The sooner it begins, the sooner it is over, and all this will be nothing but a terrible memory. Dry your tears, give him your strength,"
Jalia licked her dry lips and nodded, taking the square of cloth he handed her to wipe her eyes, clutching it in her fist so hard it hurt.
She shook out her skirts, patted her hair, nearly knocking the crown Dhega had insisted she wear off her head, laughing a little when Nivir settled it for her.
"Do I look alright?" she asked, stalling for a few more moments.
Nivir nodded gravely, offering her his arm. "You look like our queen."
Struggling to focus on something else, on someone else, she let Nivir guide her towards the stairs that would take them up to the spectator's box.
By the time they made it upstairs, Jalia had found some semblance of control and entered the pavilion as though it belonged to her. Every single one of the princes were on their feet, waiting for her, and to her utter disgust, Daegana stood just to the left of the empty stone seat where she was to sit.
The heat was immense, but the sweat that rolled down her spine was cold as ice. All eyes were on her, waiting warily for her to take her seat.
Croft stood directly behind her, giving her a grave nod to say he was here with her, Tom beside him. She almost shed a few tears to see a few of the other familiar faces kept close to her.
Turju had come with Dysis, Kalphius was there offering her a bracing smile, and when she finally did sit, so did the rest of them, giving h
er an unimpeded view of the sand below where Dhega and Antemion waited.
Jalia couldn't help but stare at Dhega, standing there in plain sandals and a loose pair of white trousers, no adornments of any kind on his person, his powerful arms crossed over his chest, looking at the entrance of the maze with obvious boredom. An expression of 'been there, done that' clear as day on his gorgeous face.
Beside him, Antemion paced back and forth with nervous energy. Even with the golden collar embedded in his skin and the glint of his body jewelry, it was plain to anyone with eyes in their heads which man was more regal. Which man exuded the sort of calm, hard patience one would expect from a king.
"And here we are again, Marchesa." Daegana drawled from beside her, the feel of his gaze on her disgustingly frank, lingering much too long at her breasts.
Jalia didn't move a muscle. Didn't give him the satisfaction of turning her attention toward him. Didn't say a word even though he called her Marchesa and not Your Majesty.
"I can promise you, the spectacle will not be over as quickly as it was when last you were here.
“The king does put on quite the show for everyone. Perhaps it will be more to your liking this time."
Jalia dug deep for the will to maintain her smooth expression, refusing to show the twisted bastard an ounce of uneasiness or anger. He liked it too much. As calmly and blankly as she could, Jalia gave her reply.
"Open your mouth in my presence again, and the next thing to come out of it will be your teeth. Zavir?"
"My queen?"
She might not be able to see his face where he stood behind her, but she could hear the grin and his approval of her command in those two simple words.
"Stop smiling,"
"Yes, my lady. Apologies."
"Let's get this over with."
The horn gave it's low, sonorous growl, the doors to the Red Labyrinth slid open, and all around her the people of Minos went wild at the promise of impending bloodshed.