They thought he would come for her.
Even if it wasn’t true, she’d let them think it was. “Vay,” she rasped in Xaala, then, in the universal tongue, “Ved will erase your carbon trace.”
Admittedly, it was unwise to anger him further.
“He can try, but I am Sabis of Clan Rax,” he garbled proudly before letting out a stream of Xaala. He squeezed her throat harder until she was unable to breathe and the red of his eye shields blurred. She clawed at his gloved hand.
She was going to die. Her thoughts went to the night she’d shared with Ved, the moment flashing through her mind in a series of sensations and emotions. It had been the most liberated she’d ever felt. Her vision darkened at the edges, her lungs burned for air. And still she could feel Ved’s hands on her.
And then, all at once, Sabis released her. She fell in a crumpled heap, gasping for air.
“Get up,” Sabis barked as he loomed over her.
With her hand covering her abused throat, she gained her footing. Hesitantly, she followed him out of the lavatory. Her legs were weak and wobbly beneath her, but she tried not to let it show in her steps. Strength was the only thing they respected, and already she had not made a good showing.
Isobel had read countless adventures with fearless heroines in impossible situations, but as much as she tried to pull their bravery around her like armor, she felt only a numb understanding that she probably wouldn’t make it out of this situation alive.
Especially once they realized that Ved wasn’t coming for her.
Their ship was similar to Ved’s, but the interior metal was a lighter color and there were more indicators on the walls. Though recognizable, it felt nothing like the dark ship she’d come to know and love.
Sabis led her into a room that had a metal table bolted to the floor and another Xaal. His silver armor was dented all over and as soon as they stopped, he rounded on her. She tried stepping away, but he grabbed her arm in a bruising grip. She struggled, but it was futile. The accompanying coolness of something hard locking around her neck had her fully alert. When Dented Armor stepped away, she reached to touch the metallic collar. It was clasped fully around her throat, but not tight enough to choke her.
Sabis said something to his comrade and handed him a small object. When he pressed on it, it clicked in his hand.
The collar gave off a low buzz like a hundred raging wasps—which was immediately drowned out by her screams. Pain like she’d never known before radiated from her neck all the way through every part of her body, as deep as the marrow in her bones. She fell to the ground and writhed, scratching uselessly at the binding until hernails bled.
She was drowning. She was burning alive. Was this the punishment for a night with Ved? For losing her propriety? For not being satisfied with the role she was to play?
Was this hell, then?
When it stopped, her body still convulsed with phantom currents.
“Up,” Dented Armor commanded.
Isobel tried to rise to her feet, but between the immense weakness she felt and the fact that her nightgown had wrapped and twisted around her legs, she ended up falling back again.
“Up,chegar!” he snarled.
She was plunged into the hellfire once more. Her throat became raw from the screams ripping out of her. This agony was unconfined by what she’d known pain could be. It was all encompassing, burning her very soul.
When it was over, seconds or hours later, a boot slid under her, lifting her slightly.
This time, even though she was far weaker than before, she worked to get to her feet. The room spun, and she thought she might simultaneously faint and vomit. But through sheer will, she managed to stay upright.
“Move,” Sabis commanded, pushing her shoulder.
Outside the ship’s hatch was a metal bridge that shook with their weight as they stepped on it. She unsteadily followed the Xaal that held the power to torture her in his hand across the unsteady platform. The wind was wild, whipping her hair out of her face and blowing it behind her. But then she made the mistake of looking down. Beneath her was a scene so full of impossibilities it took her breath away. Ships of all shapes and sizes traversed noisily around an intricate layout of tall bronze spires. Moving images played out from some unidentifiable place as if she were looking through a keyhole into a world within aworld. One showed someone with fleshy tube-like hair dancing, their hands traveling down their dark pink body seductively.
Dented Armor stopped short in front of her. Tearing her gaze away from the absurd city, she barely managed to keep herself from running into him. He spoke to someone, and she recognized the style of the universal tongue, but she didn’t know enough of it to understand. A reply came, higher in pitch. When he started moving again, Isobel stumbled after him, but not before catching sight of a metal-made being that resembled a human. They spared her the briefest of glances, their mechanical black gaze dropping to the collar around her neck before looking away again.
When they stepped off the bridge onto the sturdy open-air landing, there was nothing but sky for as far as she could see, like they were at the top of the tallest spire of the biggest castle. The clouds held a dark gold tinge to them, gilding the otherwise orange sky. A large pale crescent hung overhead as if another planet had been painted on the canvas of the skies.
An arched ceiling of dark metal soon blocked her view. There were dozens of other ships docked similarly and in the depths of the bay, there was nothing but loud clanging. Dented Armor stopped, and this time she couldn’t avoid colliding with his back. He snarled at her over his shoulder, and she braced herself for pain, but none came.
An exchange occurred and then Dented Armor stooped down into a crouch. Isobel blinked at the creature in front of him. It was a rat. A very large brown one, standing on its hind legs, and dressed in a gray work suit with stains on it. He was speaking in the universal tongue, as his black beady eyes assessed Dented Armor.
Then the Xaal stood up and kicked the rat to the side with a snarl.
