“Where is he?!” I shrieked.
“He's in the med bay.” Granelt grabbed my arm and dragged me away from Rusalla. “And you'd better start praying to any god you believe in because if my chief dies, I may just let Rusalla have you. But until we know one way or the other, you will entertain the rest of us and comfort us over the losses we just suffered.” He stopped to order one of the men, “Get us the hell away from this planet, then summon everyone to the rec room.”
The man ran off but Granelt kept dragging me through the corridors. He took me straight to the rec room and yanked me down to the pool area.
“You've got blood all over you,” Granelt sneered as he sliced through the ties binding my wrists. “Clean yourself up.”
Granelt shoved me into the deep end. My skirts dragged me down, but I managed to swim to the shallow side of the pool. I climbed out, water gushing off me, and turned to glare at Granelt. Then I went pale. He had something in his hand; it flashed silver. Granelt smirked as he lifted it to his mouth and set it on his tongue. I couldn't see it settle itself but I knew that it did. Because when he spoke, a silver glow seeped past his lips.
“I took it off the Chief,” he said to my horrified look. “It's time that you pay for your crimes, you Triari slut. Come here!”
I walked to him woodenly, leaving a trail of water in my wake. Behind him, more Fengoth warriors entered the room and filled the space between the dining area and the training area. They watched us warily as Granelt led me over to them. A few of the men were streaked in blood and still wore their armor.
“What are you doing?” One of the armored men asked Granelt.
“Avenging our dead,” Granelt declared. “Don't act as if you don't want the same thing. We've all talked about how merciful Chief Braxis has been with her. She doesn't deserve his mercy or ours. Now, we have our chance. Let's take our vengeance!”
Several men stepped forward with anticipation darkening their eyes but several more hesitated.
“Fine, those who don't want to participate can watch,” Granelt said. Then a wicked look overcame his features and he grinned at me. “In fact, I have an idea.” He turned and shouted, “Music!”
Tribal music, heavy on the drums, started to play from hidden speakers. The men shifted uneasily.
“Why don't you give them some inspiration,QueenAmaranthine?” Granelt stepped away from me. “Dance. Let them see what you have to offer.”
My body started to move to the thumping beat. My arms arched above me, my back bent, and the heavy, wet, fall of my hair swung out when I twirled. I trembled through the movements, my skirts clinging to me with the weight of chains. I knew this was just the beginning—an appetizer for the main course. Even if I survived all of their attentions—and I likely would—I may not be myself by the time it was over. In fact, I knew I wouldn't. I considered myself to be a strong woman and I could probably survive and recover from being raped by one man, but twenty? Thirty? A hundred? That would break my mind.
“That dress is getting in the way,” Granelt declared. “Remove it, Amaranthine.”
I stopped dancing and reached behind my back to undo the laces. It took awhile, what with them being wet and behind me, and Granelt got impatient. He strode forward as he pulled a dagger from his belt, then pushed away my hands. With a few slices, the dress fell into a wet heap on the floor. The men made sounds of appreciation and closed in around me as if pulled by invisible strings. I looked down and saw how my underwear clung to my body like a second skin. My nipples were cold and puckered against the fabric. I swallowed past the lump of terror in my throat and looked up at the growing circle of salivating warriors. The men looked as if they might pounce at any second.
“Dance, whore!” Granelt commanded. “And make it sexy. Show us how you've seduced so many men, including a Bleiten Prince and our chief.”
I danced.
I didn't look at the growling men, although, out of the corner of my eye, I did see one of the Meren cooks dash out of the room. At least he had enough compassion to not stay and watch. Gooseflesh rose on my arms as I spun and undulated to the music, water still dripping down my body and the cool air of the ship chilling me. I could hear the sawing breaths of aroused men and the occasional groan.
“Stop dancing,” Granelt ordered. “It's time for you to service us. You will not fight back. You will submit to everything we do to you. In fact, you willeagerlypleasure us.” Then he turned to face the other men and shouted, “She's ours, Brothers! This is the woman who killed and shamed our kin. She deserves this. Take her! Slake your lust and fury upon her body!”
The men lurched forward but just as their hands reached for me, a blood-chilling roar echoed through the room. Everyone froze and turned to face the entrance. Braxis stood there in his battleform—wings lifted, horns lowered, and fangs bared. A giant beast with bulging muscles and murderous, blood-red eyes. My nightmare had come to life but also my answered prayers.
Braxis leapt and arched through the air, his wings spreading to slow his fall with a slap of sound. He came down among the men—warriors scattering like rats—and his claws scraped the floor. Those massive, leathery wings bashed men aside with a single twitch, sending them tumbling into each other, and then he strode toward Granelt as his eyes started to glow.
“Halt!” Granelt ordered.
Braxis bared his fangs and kept coming.
“Stop, Braxis! I command you to—”
Braxis' clawed hand swept out, talons flashing like knives, and tore out Granelt's throat. As the warrior fell to his knees, Braxis reached into the cavity he'd made and tore out Granelt's tongue. A tap of his talon and the Silver Tongue released its grip to fall into Braxis' waiting palm. Braxis tossed Granelt's tongue onto his body and then reached for me with his clean hand. I didn't hesitate; I ran to him.
The Chief of the Fengoth pulled me in protectively against his side as he faced his warriors. “Are there any other men here who wish to challenge me for leadership? Anyone who would like to attempt to use a Triari weapon against me like a fucking coward?!”
The men shook their heads and backed away. As far as they knew, their chief had just overpowered the Silver Tongue with sheer willpower alone. Combined with his obvious superior strength, it was enough to win back any respect he might have lost.
“Is there anyone else who disagrees with the way I treat my dvarra?” He roared. “Anyone who would like toattemptto disrespect the woman who just saved my life?”
“No, Chief!” The men shouted.
