It never ceased to amaze him how standard things could be from culture to culture, even with vast amounts of stars and black space lying between them. Vejhon had actually never traveled away from Wite until the wars. Into those years he had been forced to concentrate a good deal of experience in xenoculture. It hadn’t been so hard once he had figured out the constants. Most cultures had a class or caste system, most had an economy, and many were populated by humanoids. Upright walking bipedals were a recurring theme no matter how strange the stage.
Though he had to admit, this was the first time he’d been to a culture where everyone was blue. Most of the guards were blue skinned, and from what he could see of the pedestrians walking the city pathways, his captor had been telling the truth when she’d warned him how easily he would stand out.
As Vejhon ran his hand over the glass of the window, inspecting it for a weakness, he tried not to think about Hanna Drakoulous. The things she had said and the things she had done only jumbled up his brain and his emotions, and he needed to focus on basic survival at the moment. Beauty, lust, and treachery could wait for a while.
There was no actual window, he quickly realized. All of the “windows” were made of stone. It was a fascinating piece of engineering and clearly of optical technology. What better way to see the world outside, yet maintain total privacy? Perhaps cameras outside of the windows reflected back the view, because as he moved from window to window the vista was flawless in depth and perspective. He’d never seen anything like it.
Vejhon’s travels along the wall of windows had brought him to the section of the room dedicated to grooming and bathing. The deep oval tub suddenly looked appealing, his wrist and ankle joints whining for some heat and clean water to ease their woes. After all, it had been next to forever since he’d bathed; since he’d done much of anything really. Eat. Sleep a real sleep. See the out-of-doors. Be in the out-of-doors. And since he doubted that last one was going to occur anytime soon, maybe he was best off taking advantage of the opportunity to rest and gather his strength and wits. Gods knew he had to figure out what kind of game it was that Hanna was trying to play on him. Then he had to figure out how to suffocate the life out of the manipulative piece of xenotrash. Once he covered all of that, he’d haul ass off of this planet as fast as possible.
He walked toward the tub, examining it in order to figure out how it worked. Wite had used ultraviolet cleansing technology for a while now, but he’d experienced the luxury of water baths before. Vejhon took a step down to get a better look and instantly the sound of sliding stone sounded as two portals opened in the far side of the tub and water surged out of them at incredible speed. Before he knew it, the tub was full and hot and he was experiencing the first act of civilization he’d been allowed since this had all started. The simplistic right to take a bath. It galled him that he recalled Hanna ordering him to do exactly that before she had left, but not enough to be stubborn about it.
In truth, the woman was right about one thing: he wasn’t the man he had been when he’d last had a foot on Wite. Nothing would change the fact that at heart he was a soldier…and a stone-cold killer when he had to be, but that man would never have paused to bathe and think before all of this. The diehard soldier would have been throwing himself around like a trapped animal trying to escape.
But if he’d learned anything from this experience, it was that anyone could be brought down in value to absolute nothingness, and it was humbling to know he wasn’t as invincible as he’d always thought he was. So now he would think. Rest, build strength, bide time and information, and work it all out right. It had to be right. He’d never make it out of the city alive if it wasn’t, never mind off the planet. The truth was he knew next to nothing about where he was and how things worked. It was vital he learned, even if it meant playing nice with his enemy for a while.
The very idea of cozying up to the woman who had violated and humiliated him left a taste like acid in his mouth and sparked his banked anger. He rubbed his temple as pain lanced through his head in response. He forced himself to resist the urge to spend time wishing seven kinds of death on her. It would be a waste of time and energy, and it certainly wouldn’t make him feel any better about what had happened. He focused instead on washing away all remaining evidence of her crime against him, as well as the haunting echo of her touch on his flesh.
Female Masters of High Houses wear these everywhere. They never go anywhere without them.
That is what she had said about that thrice-damned ring she’d used.
Except…she hadn’t been wearing it. Not when she had arrived and not when she had left. Still, if this was her playroom, why would she need to wear it anywhere else? It made sense that she could keep it here to be used only with her latest toys.
Vejhon exited the bath feeling a bit more grounded and truly refreshed. The aches in his muscles had been eased away by the heat of the water and his wounds were cleansed. He found some medic patches on the countertop with the towels. He dried himself and tended his wounds. Best of all, the towel became the first thing like clothing he had worn in a hell of a long time.
He ignored the bed for the moment, deciding to explore everything more thoroughly. The room wasn’t obviously bugged or monitored from what he could find, but he didn’t take it for granted. There was technology here that he’d never seen before and anything was possible. He peeked in the small cabinets and drawers of the furnishings scattered about, and then made his way to the large wardrobe near her chest of jewelry and trickery. Honestly, between the rack of hooks and that chest of subversive baubles, he was expecting the worst when he found the doors to the wardrobe unlocked and pulled them open.
What he found was clothing. A lot of it. Rich fabrics, top to bottom, inside and out, everything he could need and amazingly all in his size. Clearly, Hanna had gone to great trouble to be prepared for him. Vejhon shut the doors and turned his back on the finery. Oh, he’d need it eventually if he was going to get out of there, but at the moment he didn’t feel like dressing up for the bitch like some pretty, well-behaved doll.
Like Najir. The clothes were similar to what he’d seen on the other slave.
Man. Other man. Vejhon was no slave and refused to refer to himself that way. She said it was inevitable and that he’d have to accept it? Well, fine. Let the inevitable find him. He wasn’t going to make it easy. So he decided to head over to the bed and, after pulling everything back and inspecting it sternly, he chose to lie down. Or to be more honest, his body decided for him. Between his draining ordeal and the drawing heat of his bath, he was asleep before his head hit the pillows.
“Good morning, Master Drakoulous.”
Hanna drew to a halt and turned with perfect poise and posture to face her greeter. She felt Najir come to a stop behind her, the tension rippling through his body a force of energy she could almost taste. However, she trusted Najir not to show any outward signs of his hostile emotions as the Baron of Majum House approached them.
“Good morning, Baron,” she returned, smiling pleasantly as she exchanged politeness with the enemy of her House. The Feuds were ended, and she would obey the law, but she knew Majum would not. The man had murdered her parents and countless others. He had a taste for it and a talent for it and people like that didn’t just stop. Neither did they let go of lifelong grudges and feelings of vendetta.
“How do you find your new toy, my dear? I must say, I hope he was worth the bid. As envious as I am, no mere flesh is worth such a price.” The Baron walked up so that he was close enough for her senses to absorb the smaller details about him. It might not deceive her, but it always amazed her that such handsomeness and appearance of refinement could be grown over so foul a soil.
“Oh, he was worth the price,” she assured him, meeting his dark eyes with all her honest pleasure pouring out of her. “He was worth the price and so much more. Najir has been amply rewarded for his keen eye and quick bidding on my behalf.”
“I’ll bet he was,” the Baron said, his air unsuccessful in hiding his sudden