Chapter Eighteen
I stumble forward and nearly fall on my face, but he grips my elbow to steady me.
“By the crust between Terzu’s toes,” he mutters. “You’re quite the little spy, aren’t you? Eavesdropping on yet another conversation.”
My heart is in my throat.
“Tell me,” he says. “What are you doing in a part of the estate that is strictly off-limits to slaves?”
I drop my mouth open in feign shock. “Off-limits?” He narrows his eyes, and I quickly look away before he reads me. “I-I had no idea it was off-limits.”
“You mean to tell me that in the week you’ve been here, no one has bothered to set the boundaries for you?”
“N-no.” I hope no one gets punished for my lie.
“Look into my eyes,” he commands.
I bite back a curse. “It’s not right for a slave to look at their master.”
He snorts out a laugh. “Since when do you care which rules to follow, little native? One week ago you were begging me to set you free. This morning you disobeyed a direct order. And now you expect me to believe you’re a docile slave?”
I wouldn’t be surprised if my face melted off my head right now.
“If Vermilia or Telana haven’t set the boundaries of the estate for you,” he says, “then Tarik certainly has. But I won’t force you to lie to me a second time, or, gods forbid, humiliate yourself by telling the truth. How about we forget this whole conversation and I walk you out instead, hm?”
I nod, perhaps too many times, and walk beside him down the many halls that lead back outside.
“I have a question for you,” he says. “I meant to ask you this morning, but you walked off too soon.”
I bow my head. “I’m sorry about that.”
“No apology necessary. I had no right to touch you.”
I look at him in surprise.
“I wanted to ask you,” he says. “What is your name? You’ve been here ten days and I still haven’t learned it.”
I suppress a smile. “Lark.”
“Lark,” he repeats. “It’s so simple. Lark.” My name sounds so foreign—so perfect and precise coming from his lips—that I have to stop myself from asking him to say it again. “What does it mean?”
“It’s a type of bird on Earth that’s known for singing at dawn.”
“A bird?”
I nod.
“Well, Lark.” He stops and turns around to face me. “It’s a pleasure to officially be introduced.” He bows dramatically, the way one Tavdorian bows to another in greeting, and I bite my lip. Leave it to Kalen to bring humor into what could have been a deadly situation, whether it was me walking away from him earlier, or him catching me eavesdropping on him just now. “Now would you like to tell me everything you heard in that office just now?”
I nearly choke. So much for humor.
He looks back at me and arches a brow. “I know you must think us Tavdorians dumb as rocks, but I’m smarter than you think.”
“I-I never said you were…dumb.”
“I can see it in your eyes every time I look at you, Lark. We repulse you.” He shrugs. “And with good reason. We are a voracious race desperate to get our hands on anything that will make us rich or bring pleasure.”
His disparaging honesty leaves me speechless. I know I can’t keep up my facade, so I resort to pure honesty.
“You’re taking a trip back to Earth.”
He casts me a sidelong glance. “You were listening a long time.”
“You’ll be at the plantation by my home…” I allow my voice to trail off, hope he catches the hint.
He bows his head slightly. “I will, but don’t bother asking to come with me.”
“Why not?”
The corner of his lip tipped down in a grim frown. “It’s not safe there. No place on Earth is safe for a native.”
“Our community has been safe for nearly a hundred years. We’ve never been touched by the paras—Tavdorians. If it’s my life you’re worried about, then there’s no need to be.” Although I doubt that’s what concerns him. “If you’re afraid I’ll be a burden on the trip, I won’t. I promise. Just give me food and water for the journey, and I’ll gladly stay in my own corner of the ship, unnoticed. You can even place me in the slave chambers if you wish.”
He winces. “I’m not concerned about you being a burden, Lark. Earth is becoming a goldmine for trade. It’s ripe for the harvest. People are moving there and building plantations and farms all over the face of the planet, enslaving every native they find. If I send you back, you’ll only be captured again by another company, and quite possibly sold to a worse fate than this.” He releases a humorless laugh. “I can guarantee you won’t find another master as lenient as I am.”
“More people are coming?” For some reason I thought they were done expanding. Haven’t they done enough damage?
“Earth is a quick way to get rich. It has excellent farming soil, good resources, and quite a few free communities just waiting to be captured.”
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no—“What about my family?”
“I don’t know.” He releases a sigh. “The wise thing for them to do would be to move on. Because the eastern part of your continent is being quickly devoured.”
My heart sinks into my stomach. They’ll never move on. Daniel won’t allow it. His family has lived on that farm for generations, since before the parasites even took over. It’s the last piece of his life he has left. He’ll stay there until he dies. Which, if what Kalen saying is true, could be very soon. My hands ball into fists. Why do the Tavdorians have to pillage every planet they find? Why couldn’t they just leave us alone?
“I’m sorry, Lark,” Kalen says in a husky voice. “I didn’t mean to…” He stops, drags both hand through his hair, looks past me down the hall.
“I—I have to get back soon, then,” I say. “I have to warn them—”
“You’ll die out there. There’s no question about it. The way Zimri treated your friend? His shooting her was an act of mercy compared to the torture the mercenaries dispel.”
“What are mercenaries?”
He glances down at me, his arms locked behind his back as we continue walking. “Not slave traders, but people who scavenge the other planets specifically looking for natives.”
A breath escapes me. “Because we’re worth a lot of money.”
“That, and because Tavdorians loathe the fact there are still natives running around on their home planets. If they were organized enough, they could easily rise against us. Many Tavdorians believe leaving the natives to their own devices is like leaving a fire unattended. They want to strike out any uprisings before they occur.”
“And yet, you want freedom for the aliens.”
His brows arch. “Someone’s been listening to our discussions at the dinner table.”
“It’s hard not to when you talk about everything right in front of us.”
He suppresses a laugh. “Can’t argue with that.”
We step into the courtyard, and are almost immediately greeted by Tarik. He stares at me, panic filling his eyes, as I step out of the strictly forbidden halls.
His nostrils flare as he bows his head at Kalen. “I am so sorry, Master.” He glares at me. “I told you never to enter those halls.”
“It’s okay, Tarik,” Kalen says, heaving out a sigh. “I took her back there because I needed…assistance with something.”
Tarik bows his head again, the muscles in his shoulders tense as always. “I apologize for not being within reach when you required assistance.”
“It’s fine.” Kalen waves his hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it.”
Tarik straightens. “I came because Master Zimri is here.”
My heart stops. Then beats twice as fast.
“I told him your father was busy at the moment, but perhaps you would like to visit until Master Timeos finishes his conference call.”
Kalen nods. “Tell him to meet me in the parlor. Lark.”
My stomach hollows. I could seriously get used to him calling me by name.“Yes”—I glance at Tarik—“Master?”
“Will you bring up refreshments, please?”
“Of course.”
I bow and hurry to the kitchen. Zimri. He’s here. In the estate. And with his presence, I want to run away. I want to hide in the kitchen and not come out until he’s gone.
I find Vermilia in the kitchen. “Refreshments. The masters want refreshments.”
“Of course. When don’t they’s?” She opens a cabinet and pulls out a tray, then helps me fill the tray with slices of nangoro, crackers, cheese made from fugon milk, and Crecian gazelle meat. This looks more like a feast than refreshments.
When I step into the parlor with the tray, Zimri’s already sitting on the black leather sofa, one leg crossed over the other, making small talk with Kalen. I stop in the doorway, my fear paralyzing me.
Zimri almost drowned me. He killed Rika. The blood pounding in my head is almost painful, but not quite as painful as the ice-cold stabbing sensation in my chest. This slave trader is careless and heartless and cruel. Even though he’s fiddling with his stylus on his tablet and not even looking my way as I set the tray down, I’m still trembling violently in his presence.
Just like Zimri wanted, I’ve been trained to fear him.
I take the glasses of juice off the tray and set them on the table, nearly knocking one over. A sigh of relief escapes me when I successfully empty the tray without any accidents and then step back against the wall, invisible. Always invisible.
Setting the tray down on a nearby table, I clasp my trembling hands in front of me and wait for further orders. I glance up to find Kalen looking at me. The apologetic look in his eyes takes me completely off guard, but I break eye contact and look at the floor just as Timeos steps into the room.
“Glad you could make it, Zimri.” He nods at Kalen. “I’m glad you’re here, too. I wanted to meet with you both on a matter that seriously concerns you.”
They sit a little straighter.
“Is everything okay, Father?” Kalen asks.
“One of our ships was attacked by space pirates this morning.”
Both Zimri and Kalen mumble curses.
“Neptune was leading the attack, according to Denray.”
“Denray made it back okay?” Kalen asks.
Timeos nods. “The pirates left the passengers alone, thank the gods, but took all our resources, including the Ve’occ slaves we were importing.”
“So they could sell them to the black market, no doubt.” Zimri’s jaw tenses.
“We need to double up on space fighters during these trips,” Timeos says. “But there’s another matter I want to speak to you on as well.” He leans forward slightly. “I can’t deny that I’ve sensed the conflict between you two since Kalen started working at the Port. I can only imagine it will worsen when Sarka begins next year.”
“Is this another lecture, Father?” Kalen asks.
“Not again.” Zimri lets out a heavy sigh.
“Now, hear me out, boys,” Timeos says. “Clearly, you can’t run this Port together, side by side. I don’t understand why. You got along growing up, but since working at the Port, you’ve been at each other’s throats.” He pauses, looks between them. “We’ve already been discussing one of you taking full rein while the other works as his subordinate, and then reevaluating when Sarka begins working there. So I’m going to offer a proposal. Each of you will take on a project. One that you think will inflate sales and help our company. If they’re valid, I’ll approve.” He lifts a brow. “And by the Terzu Festival, whoever has the most success and brings in the most profit with their project, gets to inherit the company.”
“You can’t be serious, Father.” The veins are popping out of Zimri’s neck as he leans forward. “This is not the Tavdorian way!”
“No.” Timeos’s voice is surprisingly calm. “The Tavdorian way is that you all three inherit the Port together. But I clearly can’t rely on you to do that when I retire. Not without it collapsing. Only one of you will take the full reins of the Rydell Trading Port until Sarka comes of age. The other will work as manager, unless he chooses to pursue other interests.”
“Well, I think this calls for a celebration!” Kalen grins. “Zimri, the company is yours.” Kalen gestures toward me. “Lark, bring wine. I would like to drink to this occasion.”
“Now hang on, Kalen,” Timeos says. “Before you step down, I think you might want to hear the rest of my offer.”
I don’t have a chance to hear the rest before I’m gone, but I don’t care about the outcome of the conversation. Over the course of their talk, my fear evolved into anger, then pure rage. Because Zimri killed Rika, and no one should get away with murder so easily. I want to inflict the same pain Zimri caused me. But what can I do? If I kill him, I will be killed. And honestly, I don’t think it’s really in me to kill anybody, no matter their cruelty. Whatever got into me at the Port when I tried to choke him, scared me, and I don’t want to go through that again. Besides, why risk getting killed when I have a chance to go home so soon?
But pain… I can do something to get back at him, can’t I? In a way that he won’t even know it’s from me?
When I return to the kitchen, I pull out a wine bottle and three glasses. I begin filling one, when a brilliant idea comes to me. Bala berries. Didn’t Bram say it’d make one sick for three days? I’m not usually this cruel, but Zimri deserves to be sick. Maybe three days of puking and shitting will give him time to think about his horrible actions. Probably not, but I can hope.
I find the yellow berries in the garden. How many does someone need to eat to get sick? One? A handful? I break off a stem holding a cluster of berries and return to the kitchen, thanking my luck that no one is here at the moment. After finding a fruit press, I squeeze the juice from the berries into the first glass of wine. I try to keep my trembling hands steady, keep the grin off my face as I dump the remaining pulp into the trash. After washing my hands, I grab the wine bottle and begin filling the second glass, humming an ancient tune from my community.
“What did you just put in the wine?”
I nearly drop the bottle, and jerk my head to find Kalen standing in the doorway.