Chapter 5
Impatiently, I wait for something to happen.
In fact, when the time has finally come, and the door to my cell opens, it is Varsul who comes in, not Shazuul. He is quiet for a while, trying to wear me down with his silence.
“Have you thought about my offer?” His voice is just as cool as his eyes.
“Which offer?” I snap back, before I can stop myself. “You demonstrated very clearly that I can’t do anything to stop you. There is no offer.”
He runs his hand through his long, golden hair and brushes it out of his face. “We will reach Betania in 24 hours, where we will take on more supplies. The Sethari will take the opportunity to make some profitable deals with the tribal leaders there.”
He hasn’t finished his speech yet, but I interrupt, anyway. The unease that has taken hold of me since he came in, is getting worse, and it is impossible for me to wait for him to get to the point. I need to know for sure. “What kind of deals?”
He looks, this much I have to give him, a little uncomfortable. “We can’t possibly continue to feed all of these prisoners all the way to our destination,” he begins. My heart lurches. I understand now what he is trying to say. Slave trade. But it is far worse than I had expected.
The Sethari are going to sell half of the prisoners,” he continues. His face is unmoved. “I am giving you the opportunity to choose which of the women will not be sold.”
“You want me to choose?” I stare at him, stunned. He must really hate me, to put this burden on me. “And who is to say that a worse fate doesn’t await the women who come with us to our ominous destination?”
He sighs. “I say so.” I am losing our staring contest, and lower my eyes to the floor. I can’t let him see that I am desperate. I can’t! “Think of it as my wedding present,” he says. I can’t keep from snorting softly. “Those who come with us will live in our palace. They will be servants or work in the kitchen. I swear on my life that they will be treated well.”
“What about Khazaar?” I ask softly.
“Surely you can understand that I cannot let him live,” he answers calmly. “I could promise you, however, that I will make his death a swift one.” Even now, when his enemy is lying in chains, and Varsul is so close to reaching his goal – even now – his eyes still shimmer with pure and undisguised hate.
“No,” I assert. “He will live.” I step closer to him and force myself to reach for his hands. “I will be an obedient wife to you. I will come to your bed, and will bear children for you, and will never meddle in your political affairs,” I say. This comes out more quietly than I would like, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. Let him think that I am timid. Then he’ll be less likely to suspect that I am going to rebel against him. “But I want him to live. Drop him off on this planet and let fate take its course. If he survives, good. If he doesn’t survive, then you will have had your wish, without incurring my hate towards you.”
“Why should I care if you hate me?” he asks, fleetingly.
“Because life with an obedient wife is much easier, and also lasts longer, than with a wife who spends every waking moment trying to figure out how to get rid of you,” I retort.
He counters with the observation that he can control me any time, by slipping into my head. “That is true,” I admit, seemingly defeated. “But even you have to sleep some time. And who knows, at some point, maybe after five years, or after ten, or twenty, your vigilance will diminish.” I don’t need to add, and then I will be there. He can see it in my face.
This time, our staring contest ends in a tie. “Fine,” Varsul concedes. Even so, why do I have the distinct feeling that I have overlooked something. He asks me if I would swear an oath on our agreement. If I refuse now, he will suspect something. So, I inhale deeply, and bet on the fact that he knows about as much about human oaths as he knows about women, meaning nothing at all. I mean really – how could he think that I would secure a quick death for my beloved? “You go first,” I say, so I can see what he will swear to. Varsul’s eyes cloud over briefly, but he raises his hand obligingly. This gesture is obviously used not just on Earth, but in the entire universe.
“I, Varsul Kath’Hori, swear on those who have gone before me, on my revengeful God and on my honor, that I will uphold my end of the agreement.”
That’s it? I raise my eyebrows in question. Fine. I can work with this script!
“I, Cassie Burnett, swear,” I say, raising my right hand ceremoniously, “on my parents, on my omnipotent God, and on my honor, that I will uphold my end of the agreement.” That was easier than I thought. I lost all belief in God when the Sethari butchered us. My parents are dead. And honor? I wrote it off together with my faith. It will not be hard for me to break this oath. I chase the remaining spark of unease in my gut away by thinking about Khazaar and the future that awaits us together.
The silence between me and Varsul deepens. I wish he would disappear and leave me alone. I want to be by myself and I need to think. Anyway, it is almost time for Shazuul to make his appearance. My plans haven’t changed. Quite the opposite. Now that I know that we will be arriving in Betania soon, I must act. But before he goes, I need to know one thing. “What have you kept from me?”
He smiles, satisfied. “You know me better than expected. What gave me away?”
Your smug look, I think, but don’t say it out loud. Instead, I shrug. “I can’t imagine that a man like you wouldn’t leave a loophole open.” He is thinking about whether he should tell me which ace he has up his sleeve. In the end, his unwavering faith in himself makes him talk.
“Betania isn’t a planet where you would want to be dropped off without weapons,” he reveals. “The animals there are … hungry.” He lets his words hang there, so I know that the animals aren’t just hungry, but also dangerous. “I could be convinced to send a weapon with him.” His offer surprises me. He doesn’t even have the guts to say Khazaar’s name out loud, and wants to give him the means by which to defend himself against the beasts on that planet?
“And how could you let yourself be convinced?” My vigilance grows when I see the cynical smile distort his lips. I am expecting the worst. In this case, the worst is sex with him, here and now.
For the first time, I ask myself how far I would go to save Khazaar. Even the field trip to the prison wing was a walk in the park, compared to what awaits me now. Because, if I am honest with myself, it was fun to test my abilities. Down there on Earth, I had always tried hard to be like the others, and had never used my abilities. And anyway, what would have possibly happened to me? I knew that Varsul wanted me and needed me, so he would have made sure that I stayed unharmed, at least physically.
And how far would Khazaar go to save me?
This inexplicable, sudden love between us, is it real, or am I building a tower of lies around this pipe dream?
Varsul snaps me out of my day dream of doubts. “Don’t worry,” he whispers so softly, that I can barely hear him. “Our first time will be something special, not some kind of fumbling quickie.” The way he makes this proclamation almost makes me long for the fumbling quickie. “Today, I want something different from you.”
He keeps me hanging. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he tells me what he wants. I am supposed to accompany him to the prison wing and tell Khazaar that I have chosen him, Varsul, for myself. This is the ultimate and final humiliation for his prisoner. Not only is he chained, but he must also watch his hated rival snatch his bride right from under his nose. Varsul really is the master of psychological torture.
I signal my consent with a short nod, and then we made our way to my personal hell.