Wrexxon
I'd left the town square the moment the chaos began. I’d lingered on the platform long enough to see her say goodbye to her sisters and friends, to watch the way she’d comforted them even as her own world crumbled. Then I'd walked away, telling myself over and over that I was not a monster.
Now I stood at the top of the transport’s ramp and watched her approach through the falling snow. She seemed tiny compared to the raiders escorting her, her figure barely visible behind the two striding in front. Even so, it was clear that her back was rigid, and her hands were clenched into fists.
A pang of regret lanced through me. I'd orchestrated this. I’d made sure her name would be called. I’d manipulated the lottery that was supposed to be random. I'd snatched her from her home and her life, and I’d dressed it up as fate.
I brushed aside the regret. I’d had no choice. She’d been targeted. It was either this or be taken by the Zagrath for execution.
You would have taken her anyway.
I ignored the voice inside my head. Did it matter that I would have chosen her anyway? After so long defending my people, was it so wrong to want something for myself?
I scowled as I watched her approach. I still didn't know why Jasmine affected me the way she did, why seeing her in that bakery had knocked me sideways, and why I’d actually been glad that she was the one on the Empire’s kill list.
If the name on the list had been someone else, would I have continued with my plan to rescue them, or would I have contrived a reason to take Jasmine regardless?
I huffed out a breath, the steam forming a cloud in front of my face before dissipating into the cold. Maybe I didn’t want to know the answer to those questions. Besides, it didn’t matter. Jasmine had been the name on the list, and she was also the one I’d had to have.
As Raas, the wanting itself was unfamiliar and dangerous. I didn't let myself want things. Wanting led to weakness, and a warlord of the Vandar couldn't afford weakness.
But apparently, warlords made exceptions.
She was almost to the ramp now. Close enough that I could see her expression clearly through the falling snow. Her jaw was set. Her eyes were blazing. Every line of her body screamed fury barely contained. She was magnificent.
I straightened, preparing to say something that might ease her arrival and assure her that she wouldn't be harmed. That she'd be treated with honor. That I understood her confusion and even her anger.
But whatever pretty words I’d hoped would emerge were cut short by three darting figures that seemed to appear from within the snow squall itself. They were accompanied by no sound, not even footsteps, as the wind whipped away all noise.
Even without warning, my raiders spun to meet the attack with battle axes raised. Before they could strike, I bellowed through the sleeting ice, “No! Do not attack!”
“Gods of old,” my battle chief muttered from behind me. “Those aren’t soldiers.”
“We’ve got blasters,” a female voice cut through the wind. “Release her, and we won’t shoot.”
The other figures, also in white capes that melted into the icy horizon and made them almost impossible to see in the snow, remained just out of reach of the raiders escorting Jasmine, but they moved like animals circling prey.
I did not doubt that the attackers—no doubt female rebels like Jasmine—were armed, since metal glinted at the end of cloaked arms. As much as this attempt to rescue their friend was a delay, I couldn’t help admiring their courage. It might have been foolish to go up against Vandar, but no one could accuse them of being cowards. Part of me wanted to take all off them onboard and train them as raiders.
Shaking off that absurd thought, I braced my hands on my hips. “You would break the alliance before it starts?”
“We didn’t sign any contracts,” another voice yelled. “Take the thaw-soft, frostbitten pricks who agreed to this instead.”
“They would make poor war brides,” I said.
“If you think Jasmine will be a better one, you don’t know her.” Pride tinged the hostility in this voice.
I held up my hands, noting that the raiders escorting the war bride were shifting restlessly. We were unused to debating with hostiles, and there was only so long I could converse with the rebels. “We do not want conflict.”
A blaster swung to point at me. “Then you shouldn’t have taken our friend!”
Twisting my head just enough to catch my battle chief’s eye, I told him in a low voice, “Disarm them. Nothing more.”
“It is done, Raas.”
Kolt raced down the ramp, scattering the cloaked figures and knocking blasters from their hands without uttering a single battle cry or swinging his battle axe once. His movements were so fast, there was little reaction aside from startled yelps and curses. The last rebel dove forward into a roll, popping up behind him and whirling with impressive dexterity. Still, she wasn’t fast enough for Kolt.
He ducked under her arm and spun her around, sending her blaster flying and yanking her flush to him with a bare arm secured around her waist and the other around her neck. Her white cape flapped around her legs, and her hood had fallen back to reveal startlingly red hair.
