Warlord and the Waif by Chloe Parker
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ELLA
“I DON’T LIKE this.”
Portia shakes her head as she ties the laces of my dress behind me, a beautiful silken piece in shades of red, orange, and yellow. I feel like a flicker of light, the gown perfectly complimenting my complexion and my red hair, which she’s left flowing down my back in wild curls. The dress falls off my shoulders in trailing sleeves like the Hyperborean gowns I’ve seen, with a long skirt that drifts around my ankles.
I know I look nice, and I feel like a princess thanks to Portia. But she’s right. This all feels off.
“What do you think is going on?” I ask.
“The Delegation has been tense since they got back from the mines,” Portia says, “I’m sure something happened. I just don’t know what yet.”
“And you think it has something to do with me?”
The violet alien winces.
“You raised a hand to a magister,” she says, “It’s against the law for indentures to do that. I don’t trust that they’re not going to…”
She pauses.
“What?” I ask.
She makes eye contact with me in the mirror.
“To take you.”
I turn to look at her, panic gripping me even as I keep a brave face.
“They couldn’t just do that, could they?”
Portia bites her lip. “They can do whatever they like.”
“I’m not going without a fight,” I say, “And Calder wouldn’t let them, right?”
Her face hardens, her mouth set in a thin line.
“Even if Calder would let them, I’ll protect you,” she says, resting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing.
As we descend the stairs through the kitchen, I feel incredibly overdressed. This whole time I’ve been in a serving girl’s outfit, and suddenly I’m told I need to dress to impress. Calder selected this gown himself and sent Portia to market for it, and it was handmade for me. It hugs every curve, sitting comfortably on my skin and feeling almost like cool water on my flesh.
Everyone’s eyes are on me as we enter the banquet room for the second night of the Delegation’s visit, Portia ushering me toward Calder’s table. A smaller seat sits empty at his left, between Calder and a black-eyed Hyperborean in a white robe. Ioni is at Calder’s right, smirking at me as always, and looking for all the world like she has a secret. The others in the delegation watch me as well, their black eyes betraying nothing that lies behind them.
I don’t like the look on Ioni’s face. But I scarcely notice her compared to the bronze god at her left.
I haven’t seen him since I crept out of his quarters in the wee hours of the morning, and it hits me hard when I realize how much I’ve missed him. Calder is glorious, dressed in a black leather cuirass rather than his usual cloak, his hair silken and falling over his tattooed shoulders. His blue eyes follow me across the floor until he beckons me closer, gesturing at the seat. I press my shoulders back and stride forward, trying hard not to trip over my skirt. I’m barefoot — I don’t know if footwear is all that common among Calder’s people — and it feels odd to be dressed like this with all these strangers.
But Calder’s gaze lights me on fire, and I’m drawn to his heat.
I pass the other guests and finally sit at his side, feeling a little unease at being on this side of the table. As soon as I sit down, he grabs me by the arm and pulls me to him, pressing a hot kiss to my mouth. I gasp in surprise. I know that everyone is watching, but I melt into him, letting my hand fall to his shoulder and curling my fingers against him.
He withdraws with a possessive growl, lowering his hand to high up on my thigh and glowering at the other guests.
“We feast,” he announces, ignoring their stares as he squeezes my leg.
The bots flood the dining room, along with Portia and Lucien with decanters of wine and mead. I can tell Portia is keeping an eye on the room, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. The Hyperboreans begin to chat as the meal is served, and Calder pulls my chair closer until our hips touch.
“You are a pleasure to behold,” he growls in my ear, “And I’m sure you’ll be even more a pleasure to undress.”
“I thought we were being discrete,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond, instead curling his hand around my upper thigh.
“They know,” he murmurs, “So why shouldn’t I have you when and where I like?”
I can’t hold back the sigh that presses its way out of my mouth when he drags his finger over my most sensitive place, and I blush when I realize the Hyperborean to my left is watching us. Calder notices too, giving a warning glare to the delegate as he draws his hand away.
“The human is mine,” he hisses, and a shudder of want goes through me at just how possessive he is.
I shouldn’t like this, but I do.
The others start to eat and I realize that I should do the same, picking up the utensils around the plate. Portia steps over to us and pours me a plentiful glass of wine, exchanging a meaningful look with Calder. I drink heavily, trying to calm my nerves. I won’t crack under the pressure.
Calder eyes my plate and gestures at the alien shellfish on it.
“You should eat,” he says, “We have a long night ahead of us.”
There’s promise in his eyes, but I can’t tell of what.
“So brazen in their carnality,” a Hyperborean pipes up from somewhere in the room.
“I didn’t realize we’d be getting a cultural study and dinner in one,” Ioni chides, “I’ve heard the Skoll take their mates publicly on feast nights, but I assumed you’d been broken of your savage ways in your centuries with the Empire.”
Their tone makes my blood boil, and I straighten my shoulders.
“What makes you think your culture is so superior?”
All their pitch black eyes turn on me, and Portia freezes in the middle of the room. Calder squeezes my thigh, but says nothing, and when I turn to face him I see that his lips are held in a tight grimace, his posture tense. I’m starting to wonder if he brought me to this exact spot because I’m his guest, or because he wanted to keep an eye on me.
I know I shouldn’t have spoken up. I know it was a stupid thing to do. But the words left my mouth before I truly understood their implications, and now I’m surrounded by immortal aliens who could kill me if they wanted to.
I don’t want them to take me away, but my stupid temper has put me in a bind before.
“Our empire is the oldest in the universe,” Ioni says, the hateful smirk never leaving her face. “We were the first to develop space travel, and delivered our technology to the peoples of the Alpha Worlds. We liberate primitives such as yourself from their war-torn and wanting planets. We are the crown jewel of this galaxy, the pinnacle of cultural development, living for thousands of years. Of course we are superior.”
“You never thought to institute a Non-Interference Directive?”
Ioni tilts her head.
“What is this…directive you speak of?”
“If you interfere in alien culture, you end up stopping them from developing the way they would have without you,” I say. I think back to the histories I read in Calder’s library; to my anthropology degree; even to Spock and Star Trek. “You don’t know if your culture is actually superior because you never gave anyone else a chance to thrive.”
“Why shouldn’t a planet desire our aid when its people live in squalor?” a Hyperborean says from my left.
“Who are you to decide what squalor is?” I demand. I know I’m just digging a deeper hole, but I can’t stop the words tumbling out of my mouth. “I was perfectly happy in my life on Earth, and you wrenched me away from everything I loved, then told me I should be happy. That isn’t what I would describe as charity.”
“You ungrateful creature,” Ioni starts, “You’ll soon learn what true suffering is—”
“My handmaiden’s people are loud and outspoken,” Calder interrupts, “It’s simply their way. Now, we should finish our dinner and retire for the evening.”
I’m bristling for a fight, but a look from Portia tells me it would be wise to shut up.
The rest of dinner is tense, the silence deafening when the bots carrying dishes start to taper off. Calder finishes his drink and sets his goblet down heavily on the table as we finish, standing abruptly and taking my hand to pull me to my feet.
“I bid you all goodnight,” he says, his voice gruff as he begins to lead me toward the heavy doors to Kaer Idunn’s residential wing
Something feels off with him, but I can’t tell what. I stumble along, struggling to keep pace with him, when Ioni calls out from behind us in a mocking tone.
“You aren’t going to put on a show for us?”
I bite my tongue until I taste blood, Calder’s grip tightening. He doesn’t respond, just dragging me faster across the floor.
“Fine,” Ioni continues, “I’ll have plenty of time to see what these humans can do.”
We get out to the entryway and climb the spiral staircase, Calder never stopping.
“What did she mean?” I ask.
He stays silent.
“Calder, tell me what she meant!”
He whips around, his stardust eyes blazing like a supernova.
“We will discuss it in my quarters,” he fumes.
Then he yanks me down the hallway again, leaving me wondering what exactly is about to happen.