“Papa, I have heard a distressing report that there is an alien prisoner here in the palace. Is it so?” Dani looked at her father frankly. Lavi would have batted her lashes and simpered, hoping to gain favor with their parent but that wasn’t Dani’s way—she preferred to be direct.
Her father frowned down at her—he was one of the tallest males in his own kingdom and so he was able to do this.
“Yes, my daughter,” he said formally. “There is a prisoner, as you well know. Rumors are flying about him at court—there is no way you could not be aware of his presence. Why do you ask me this?”
“I just want to know who he is,” Dani said, trying to sound casual. “Do you…have you gone to see him? What does he want?”
“No, I have not gone to see him yet.” Her father heaved a deep sigh. “This business between the Council and the Thuggors has been keeping me busy. They are staying for two solar weeks which is longer than I truly like. I must keep my mind at home on matters of state rather than letting it fly off to some other planet where this alien enemy is from.”
“But what if he is not an enemy at all but a friend—someone who might be helpful to us?” Dani pressed. “What if he means us no harm? How will you earn his people’s goodwill by keeping him locked away in a cell?”
“What do you know of it?” Her father rounded on her suddenly, his face turning from parental to cold in an instant—the face of the Monarch.
“Nothing!” Dani hated lying the same way she hated hiding and spying but she had no choice—she couldn’t tell her father that she’d been to see the prisoner and he was no threat to them. Well, not exactly no threat, whispered a little voice in her head as she remembered the gentle caress of his whisper fingers. But not the kind of threat Papa is afraid of, anyway.
“Daughter,” her father said as he resumed walking, his rich royal robes swishing along the tiled floors. “Do not speak to me again of things you do not understand.” They stopped at the entrance of the throne room where the guards waited to keep her father safe…and to keep Dani out. He turned to her again. “You must keep your nose out of affairs of state.”
“Why?”
The word was a passionate whisper and Dani felt tears coming to her eyes as she glanced at the guards who would bar her way and keep her out of the place that should rightfully have been hers if only she had been born a son instead of a daughter.
“Why must I keep my mind only on pretty clothes and women’s matters? I am your daughter—my mind is sharp like yours, Papa,” she entreated softly. “Why can you not allow me to talk with you about what matters to the kingdom—to the planet?”
“Because you are a female. Women do not conduct state business—they have not the heads for it.”
The words were not from her father but from Councilor Tornk who had come up behind them as she spoke.
Dani looked at him coldly.
“I am speaking to my father, Councilor. Not to you.”
His small eyes flicked over her contemptuously.
“Best keep a civil tongue in your head, girl—you might pay for such insolence one day soon.”
“Enough!” Her father’s voice was a roar that made Dani flinch. The Monarch was known to be a stern but quiet male and his sudden wrath was frightening. He turned to his head councilor. “Tornk, excuse us. I will speak to my daughter alone now.”
Clearly dismissed, Tornk made an ill-mannered bow and stalked into the throne room, his long ears twitching with irritation. For a moment Dani felt a surge of triumph as she watched him go, then she turned back to her father and her heart quailed within her.
“Dannella,” he said, frowning at her, “I will not have you behaving with insolence to males. What would your poor mother say? She would say I raised you wrong and perhaps I did—I never should have allowed you to take an interest in matters of state and ruling. Never should have allowed you into the throne room in the first place.” He sighed. “But you were so young when I lost her and you reminded me of her…so headstrong and beautiful…”
“If I was a son you would let me in,” Dani said, hot tears gathering in her eyes again. “If I were a son you would be proud of my knowledge and interest. I could rule the planet after you—”
“Hush!” Her father took her by the shoulders and shook her once, hard. He glared at her intently. “Never speak such words again, Dannella! They are blasphemy and you know it. Our gods do not allow for a woman to rule—such an idea would cause an uprising among all our people—male and female alike!”
“But why must it be so?” Dani demanded. “It isn’t so in other places! On some planets males revere their females and treat them as equals.”
“What males are these?” the Monarch demanded harshly. “What do you speak of, Dannella?”
“I…I didn’t mean…” Gods, what was wrong with her? She had almost blurted out what Ky had told her—that the Kindred saw females and males as equals. “It was…another culture I was studying,” she said at last, haltingly. “An alien culture. But why could it not be like that here, among the Goshans?”
“You know why it cannot be.” Her father glared at her once more, clearly troubled. “Do not speak this way to me again, Dannella or I am afraid there will have to be consequences…dire consequences.” He released her shoulders and straightened up.
He didn’t stay to say what consequences he meant and Dani didn’t dare to ask. She simply watched as her father swept into the throne room and the guards, their faces as passive as stone, crossed their pain-spears against her to keep her out.
Tears stinging her eyes, she turned to leave. There was no point in trying to talk to him. Though both of them wished she had been born a son, there was no use in pretending she was anything else but a daughter…an unworthy female…an inferior woman…an insolent girl who dared to dream above her station.
He’ll never listen to me. Never see me as anything more than a female who can never carry on his name and his legacy, she thought. Throwing an arm across her eyes to hide the tears running down her cheeks, she rushed away.
* * * * *
The Monarch watched his daughter go with consternation and pity. She had always been a headstrong girl, just like her mother, and now she had grown into a headstrong woman. Maybe Councilor Tornk was right and she needed to be married off to a strong male—someone who could make her mind and teach her manners.
If only she had been born a son… But he pushed the old wish away. Dannella’s sharp mind and vivid intellect were of no use to him. Only a male could rule—a female could do nothing but submit and the Monarch, for all his power, couldn’t do a thing to change that.
One thing he could do, however—though he had not the heart to punish his daughter, he could vent his anger on the source of her sudden rebellion.
“Charo, come,” he said, beckoning to his Chieftain of the Royal Guards.
“To hear is to obey.” Charo came to kneel at his feet, the plumes on his helmet sweeping the bottom of the golden steps that led up to the dais where the throne was placed. “What can I do for you, my Monarch?” he asked.
“Are you still keeping a close watch on the alien prisoner we took a few days ago—the one from the Blind?”
“Yes, my Monarch. Of course,” Charo exclaimed. “We have kept him without food or water to make him humble. Is it your will to see him now?”
“Not yet.” The Monarch frowned. “You must…soften him up for me a bit more before I am ready to see him.” He stabbed a finger at Charo. “I want his will completely broken before I step foot in his cell. Is that understood?”
“Yes, of course, your Majesty! To hear is to obey—it shall be done at once.”
Charo rose, bowed once more, and then exited the throne room swiftly, his short war-robes stirring around his calves.
The Monarch sank back on his throne, his fingers gripping its golden arms. The alien prisoner would pay for disrupting their lives—and troubling Dannella’s mind.
He wondered why the thought did not make him feel better.
* * * * *
“Hey—what are you doing here now? It’s not time for a break yet, is it?” Ky looked at his captors with a frown on his face. Usually they were as regular as clock work, coming twice a day to lead him to the fresher and let him relieve himself and then leaving him manacled and helpless alone in his cell.
But it had been only a few hours since they had last come in to him. Had something changed? Were they finally going to take him to the Monarch?
“Strip away his shirt,” the head guard—the one he’d heard the others calling “Chieftain Charo”—ordered his men.
Ky had a bad feeling about this but once more there was nothing he could do but submit as the little blue bastards stripped off his uniform shirt and turned him to face the ferromagnetic iron plate, which was usually at his back when he sat on the rough stone bench.
“Now get him on his knees,” Charo commanded. “This bastard is too big to whip standing up.”
“Whip? Wait a minute! What in the Seven Hells are you whipping me for?” Ky demanded. But the guards holding him at blaster-point on him only laughed. One of them gestured with the muzzle of his weapon.
“On your knees, Kindred. Time to taste the lash.”
They forced him to kneel and present his bare back like a target, his wrists pressed awkwardly to the ferromagnetic plate to hold his manacles in place.
“Goddess damn you all,” he growled. “Why are you doing this?”
“It is the will of the Monarch,” Charo said shortly.
Ky started to protest again but there was a swishing/whistling noise behind him and then the lash fell across his back, causing a blinding agony that made him shout out hoarsely in surprise and pain. And then it came again…and again and again and again.
Never had he been so tempted to break his sacred vow and use his Touch sense as a weapon. Others of his kind had used it so. In fact, the Touch Kindred had been considered a kind of abomination by the rest of the Kindred for years because of it. They had been shunned—a forgotten tribe, anathema to the rest of their people for hundreds of cycles.
But after their new ruler Saber had come to power, he had begun seeking out those males who had the strongest Touch sense coupled with a strong sense of honor. These he had trained to control their extra sense and see it as a gift given by the Goddess for pleasure and never for war or pain.
After undergoing this training Ky believed to his core that to use his Touch sense for anything but the pleasure of his female was wrong—a sin against the Goddess and a perversion of her gift. Even the stinging lash across his naked shoulders and back couldn’t force him to break the barrier he had built in his mind to keep himself from misusing his power. He gritted his teeth instead, determined to bear the pain.
At last it was over. Ky didn’t know how many lashes he’d gotten—he had lost count somewhere around forty in the blinding haze of pain. The whip they were using on him drew blood which pattered onto the dirty stones like red rain. Soon his vision was gray and blurred, fading in and out as consciousness tried to leave him. Only the magno-lock manacles, held tight to the iron plate by the ferromagnetic field, kept him upright.
“Enough,” Charo finally said. “This should please the Monarch. Throw a bucket of salt solution on him and put him back in position.”
Once more Ky wanted to protest but before he could unlock his jaw, a splash of stinging liquid washed over his torn back, drawing a hoarse shout of agony from his lips.
“Listen to the Kindred—not so big now are you,” the guards jeered. “Howling in pain like a kicked canis beast!”
Ky clamped his jaws together, determined not to let another sound escape, even when they poured a second bucket of the solution which stung like fire in his fresh wounds and then a third.
Finally they released him and put him back in position on the stone bench. Ky winced as his torn back touched the rough stone wall behind him.
“Wait,” he rasped. “At least give me back my shirt!”
The guards only laughed. Charo picked his uniform shirt up and held it in front of Ky’s face.
“You want this Kindred? You want it?”
“You know I fucking do.” Ky glared at the male, unable to make himself beg. “Give it to me.”
“Of course I will.” The head guard spoke with elaborate politeness Ky didn’t trust for a moment. He held the dark blue uniform shirt up in front of himself as though examining it. “But I’m afraid I see a tear in it.”
“What are you talking about?” Ky demanded. “There’s no fucking tear!”
Grinning nastily, the head guard gripped the shirt and ripped it down the middle. “Now there is.”
He threw the two halves of the ruined uniform shirt into the corner of the cell and spat on the floor.
“You son of a bitch,” Ky said thickly. “You’ll pay for that.”
“I doubt it, Kindred.” Laughing, Charo motioned to his men. “Come—I have better things to do than stay here listening to the Kindred prisoner whimper.”
Laughing and spitting on the floor, the lot of them trooped out of the cell, leaving Ky with a stinging fire in his back and an even hotter rage in his heart.
Again he thought of using his Touch sense. But no, he must not break his vow! What would Dani think of him if he did? She would never trust him again. She would be certain he was a witch—a sha-gra as her people called it—and she would hate and fear him for it forever.
It was this thought, more even than his vow and the mental barrier he had built in his mind, that kept him from doing the unthinkable. In the end, he simply slumped on the stone bench, trying to keep his ragged back from touching the stones behind him and prayed to the Goddess that he would find a way out of this mess and get a chance for revenge.