"Any signs of resistance?" I asked quietly.
"The crowd seems compliant. Curious, mostly. Some fear, but that's expected." Kolt paused. "You really think this will be simple?"
I'd told my officers exactly that during the briefing this morning. That the humans would be no trouble. That they'd accept the terms of the alliance because they had no real choice. It was this or eventual Imperial reconquest. One war bride was a small price for protection from the Zagrath who would tax and subjugate them.
But remembering dark eyes that had challenged rather than cowered gave me pause.
"No," I admitted. "I don't think it will be simple."
Venik shifted beside me. "The lottery is set up. The leaders assured me all eligible females have been entered."
I glanced at the shallow metal bowl held on a high pedestal. The bowl’s wide, flared mouth hid the pile of ebony stones huddled below, each one etched with a different woman’s name. The bowl, the stones, and the lottery itself were designed to look random and fair, to give the illusion that fate rather than manipulation would choose the tribute.
But it didn't matter what name was written on the stone that would be chosen. I knew what name would be called.
I'd made certain of it during my conversation with the colonial leaders. They'd been reluctant at first, but ultimately agreeable when I'd explained that I needed a specific woman for strategic reasons.
I hadn't mentioned the execution list or that she was suspected by the Zagrath of leading the local resistance. I hadn't explainedthat I was saving her life whether she wanted saving or not. That might reveal that we had a spy embedded within the Imperial forces slipping us intelligence, and it might put the remaining rebels on Lexxona in danger. Some truths were mine alone to carry.
The square was nearly full now, with hundreds of colonists packed together against the cold, their murmurs a low buzz. The colonial leaders sat to one side of the platform, looking pleased with themselves in a way that made my hands clench the armrest of the chair.
I searched the crowd, my eyes moving systematically through the bundled figures until—there.
Fourth row, slightly left of center. Dark hair escaping from under a hood, her face partially obscured by a scarf wrapped against the cold. But I recognized the set of her shoulders, the lift of her chin. The baker. Jasmine.
Her gaze was fixed straight ahead on the platform, but there was something in the rigid way she held herself that suggested she was acutely aware of being watched. As if she could feel my eyes on her and was deliberately ignoring me. That intrigued me more than it should have.
I wanted to see how she'd react. I wanted to know if the defiance I'd seen in the bakery would hold when the announcement was made. I wanted to see if she'd break or bend or come out fighting.
I forced myself to look away, to focus as Councilman Garrett moved to the front of the platform. He raised his hands for silence, and the crowd gradually quieted.
"Citizens of Lexxona," he began, his voice projected across the square. "We stand at a crossroads in our colony's history. For too long, we have lived under the shadow of the Zagrath Empire. We have been subjected to their taxes, their soldiers, and their constant threats and demands."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
"But today," the man continued, warming to his speech, "we take control of our own destiny. Today, we forge an alliance with the Vandar, who have defeated the enemy before and who offer us their protection from the Zagrath."
He gestured toward us, and hundreds of eyes shifted to study the curious outsiders. I kept my expression neutral, aware that I was the face of the alliance and the symbol of the protection being promised.
"Please join me in welcoming Raas Wrexxon and his warriors to Lexxona,” the councilman said as he clapped.
The applause was polite but thin, more obligation than enthusiasm. My eyes found Jasmine again. She wasn't clapping. Her hands remained in her lap, her expression carefully blank, but I could see press of her lips.
Garrett continued speaking, explaining the terms of the alliance in broad strokes. The Vandar would maintain a presence in the sector, defend Lexxona from Imperial incursion, and ensure trade routes remained open and safe. In exchange, the colony would provide supplies, intelligence about Imperial movements, and...
He paused and exchanged a glance with Harding.
"To ensure the integrity of this alliance," Garrett said, his voice slightly less confident now, "to guarantee that both parties honor their commitments, the council has agreed to provide a guarantee of sorts.”
The murmuring grew louder. People shifted in their seats, leaning toward each other to whisper questions.
“Today, a lottery will be held.” Garrett spoke faster now. "All single women of appropriate age have been entered. One will be chosen to accompany Raas Wrexxon as his war bride. As a living guarantee of our alliance, she will be treated with the highest honor and respect, protected by the entire Vandar fleet, and?—"
The rest of his words were lost in the angry buzz from the crowd. Women gasped. Men leapt from their seats. I watched Jasmine's eyes narrow, saw her hands shoot out to grab the women on either side of her I was certain were her sisters. The younger one looked terrified, the middle one stunned. But Jasmine's expression was pure fury barely contained beneath the white line of her lips.
Harding had moved to the bowl, while Garrett tried to speak over the crowd, assuring them this was necessary and for the good of the colony. My warriors moved closer, hands near weapons but not drawing them, a silent reminder to keep the chaos from becoming violent.
Harding reached into the shallow metal vessel, making a show of rooting his hand among the stones. His eyes flicked to me for just a moment before he turned back to the crowd.
