Well, maybe you should stop pissing people off and you wouldn’t have to worry about being first on everyone’s shit list, Jules' earlier words echo in my mind, a haunting refrain that holds so much truth.
The wisdom of her words is like a cold blade against the heat of my resolve. Caution was never my strong suit; I've danced on the edge of too many black holes, flirted with danger as if it were a lover's game. But this time, the stakes are etched in flesh and blood. Jules' life hangs by the thread of a tyrant's whim and it’s my own doing.
I adjust the thrusters, setting course for my hideaway on Ritk. My fingers brush over the controls, each movement deliberate, betraying none of the turmoil beneath my composed exterior. As my ship hurtles through the stars, the thought of Jules, bound and at the mercy of Warlord Zarnak, ignites a fire within me that no distance or danger can extinguish.
I will face any peril, brave the wrath of the cosmos, even traverse the fires on Dund itself to ensure she remains by my side.
JULES
I hang there, suspended by beams of light that cradle my limbs with an unyielding grip, the blast collar around my throat a cold reminder of my precarious existence. Warlord Zarnak looms before me, his clawed hand possessively curled around the detonator, a grotesque god deciding whether to spare or smite. Muscles bulge under his thick, leathery skin. The amber glow in his eyes seemed to sear into my soul, a reflection of his relentless and unyielding nature. And I thought the orc was scary.
"Comfortable?" His guttural voice drips sarcasm, resonating through the cargo hold's cavernous space. As he moves closer, I visually trace the intricate markings covering his body like thick tribal tattoos.
"Just fabulous," I retort, refusing to let him see how his presence unnerves me. His face is a twisted canvas of deformity, skin resembling weathered leather stretched taut over sharp angles and protruding bones. His eyes, deep-set and burning with an intense amber glow, pierce through the shadows like fiery embers. Even as fear claws at my insides, I refuse to cower before this tyrant.
"Let us hope for your sake the space pirate still has the relic of my people.” Warlord Zarnak's amber eyes flicker with malice.
"Behtu will return for me," I declare.
"So sure, are you? Perhaps he finds you...replaceable."Warlord Zarnak's words are calculated, aimed to wound. Yet beneath the hostility, something else lurks… curiosity?
"He doesn’t.”
Warlord Zarnak's heavy brow arches. “A bold statement from a lesser species. Do you truly believe yourself his equal? Despitethe fact that you awakened his sivot, you are, after all, only a human."
Only a human? Lesser species? Behtu’s equal?It never occurred to me to worry about these things, and Behtu had never treated me as beneath him. Holding himself back, maybe, but never as if I was a lesser species than him.
Warlord Zarnak smirks as he watches my throat work through a hard swallow. New questions plant seeds of doubt about Behtu’s loyalty. For all I know, he might consider the relic more valuable than me.
I shake myself. I can’t think like that. Behtu said he was coming back. I have to believe that he will.
The air in the cargo hold is thick with tension, a tangible entity that coils around me like another set of shackles. I steel myself, fighting against the raw fear that threatens to choke me as much as the blast collar at my throat.
"So, tell me about the Zorite Statue," I say breaking the suffocating silence, voice steady despite the tremors racing through my veins. "Why is it so vital to your people?"
Warlord Zarnak's amber gaze narrows, flickering with a flame that might ignite the very air between us. "It is not your place to question the Grymlok sacred relic."
"I was just curious. Being a mere human, I'm utterly clueless about such things." I try stroking his ego, seeking any glimpse into the significance of this statue that now determines my fate.
A low growl rumbles from his chest, but pride glints behind the suspicion in his hard gaze. He takes a step back and paces the room, creating space that allows me to breathe, if only slightly.
“Then, let me educate you,human,” he sneers and rakes his fiery gaze over me like I’m summer trash stinking up the place.
"The Zorite Statue is a sacred relic carved from a rare and precious zorite stone, though more metalloid than granzite,” he explains, voice booming through the cargo hold. "Legend saysit has the ability to harness great energy, making it one of the most coveted artifacts in existence. Passed down through the generations of warlords, it holds all the clans on Grymsite together.”
As he spoke, I wondered how much of what he’s saying is total bullshit.Legend says,he said. If the statue is an old relic, wouldn’t the thing have already done something noteworthy by now like harnessing this great power he boasts?
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him his relic is a joke, but I smile sweetly and give him the appropriateoohingandaahinghe expects without rolling my eyes.
Then it dawns on me that if I’m right and the statue is worthless, Behtu might have already sold it for a profit. I mean, why keep something that’s only sacred in the minds of the Grymloks?
Behtu said he was coming back for me, but what if he isn’t? What if he no longer has the statute? Can I really trust the word of a space pirate?
“You said I was his bondmate,” I begin, pushing further into unknown territory. “What does that mean exactly?”
My wrists ache from the shackles' relentless grip, the cold light beams encircling them a stark contrast to the warmth of my skin. I stand before Warlord Zarnak, my pulse quickening as the amber glow in his eyes seems to penetrate right through me.
“A female whose mere presence stirs the primitive instincts of the dormant primal sivot to life,” he explains what Behtu “But the Kaul must first choose the female he wishes to mate.”
