Freed By the Alien Prince by Tori Kellett

Chapter Eight

Sascha watched miserably as N’ameth walked away. Xar’ta gave her the creeps though, and she wasn’t sorry to see him go.

“It is hard to be the youngest brother,” Brey observed.

Sascha glanced over at her. “You mean he has a lot to live up to?”

“Not just. It was hard for him because for a long time, he was his father’s favorite. He was still young enough to cling to him after his matriche’s death, and he hadn’t had the disillusionment that his older brothers already had.” She hesitated, and Sascha suddenly had the feeling there was so much more.

“I won’t repeat anything you tell me,” Sascha said quietly. Brey eyed her as if struggling to make a decision.

“You have feelings for him?”

So many.So many, she didn’t know where to start. She didn’t answer, but something must have shown on her face because Brey nodded and continued. “As a young, Prince N’ameth was bright, cheerful. He laughed all the time. It was a special day when he visited the village because he always brought a smile with him. He is a talented artist, and his simple drawings used to be hung in every home he visited. He was our greatest hope, our sankesch—treasure. No matter how bad his sire was, he still brought a smile to the faces of everyone he met.”

She hesitated, eyeing Sascha as if debating whether to trust her.

“He says I’m his mulaa. I’m just struggling with his possessiveness.” Because if she was really honest, she was struggling to separate possessiveness from protection and not to enjoy it. The thought of being someone’s entire focus was addictive.

“It is the mark of an Ishtaan warrior.” Brey said it almost proudly, and she could understand that. She really could. She also couldn’t explain why that was her biggest fear. Brey smiled as if she’d said all that out loud and continued. “My prince started becoming withdrawn, changing. No one could work out why. His sire had engaged a special wise one, an artist, and everyone had great hopes of him. But King Zakaarir and Prince Razorr became concerned and went to their sire, who brushed off their concerns and said my prince was just growing up. Prince N’ameth lost weight. He didn’t smile. He didn’t laugh, and he didn’t draw. I don’t know all that happened, only what Tamara shared in the hope I would encourage him to start visiting the villages again, but King Zakaarir started following his brother, and he burst in one day when his tutor was trying to undress him, insisting that the naked form was the most beautiful to draw and that the tutor would demonstrate.”

Sascha closed her eyes in sick horror, but Brey carried on.

“Prince N’ameth never drew anything else from that point onward. Between my king and Razorr, he was never out of their sight. The tutor died—some freak accident—and my prince grew up.”

Freak accident?The only freak was a man who preyed upon little boys, but she doubted Brey’s emphasis was accidental. “For a long time, he didn’t have a role. In many ways he still doesn’t. My king and Prince Razorr were always inseparable. Prince Azlaan always had his head in a book and was never much for playing, which meant Prince N’ameth was often on his own before that happened and after he was never allowed to be. Too young to be with his older brothers, but as a prince not able to join in with the rest of the young. His matriche died shortly after he was born, and while he has tried to carve out a military career, it isn’t something he enjoys. He has looked for Prince Razorr every daylight since his ship was lost, I think in an attempt to do something for King Zakaarir.” Sascha knew that. Or that he was looking for his brother when he found the space passage. “He is torn between his duty and living up to his brothers. He has skills, but at eighteen cycles, he has not learned to temper those skills. He often reacts impulsively because he hasn’t found his role.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sascha agreed, but her heart ached. For the little boy he had been and for the adult trying to balance a kind soul with the strength of a warrior. The absolutes he stated. That he was required to be black and white when his world wasn’t. It was as if he was forcing himself into a mold he hated. Trying too hard. A lot of it made sense.

“I am not sorry you are here,” Brey said. “I am sorry you were torn from your world, but a strong warrior needs a strong female. For many cycles, our females stood with their males in battle, but then over time, that practice was lost and they became subservient. Females were always cherished, but they were seen weaker, less. Something to protect, not because they were precious, but because they were assumed to be incapable of doing it themselves. Not a true partner.” Brey was silent a moment. “Prince N’ameth needs someone to stand by him in the battles that are to come, even if he doesn’t realize that.”

“I fought all my childhood to be recognized as someone of value. My dad wanted a boy. Because I was a girl and they never had any other children, I was punished.” She took a breath. “It always seemed like it was my fault.”

“And yet females are of higher value on Ishtaan.”

“Only because your very survival as a race depends on them,” Sascha said, but Brey shook her head.

“Have you heard of the Seft?” Sascha shook her head. “They predate the kings of Ishtaan. They were female and had abilities that the kings could only dream of. It is true those abilities could be bent for harm, but no priestess would ever do that.”

“What happened?” Sascha said because she knew something had.

“They were slain by men who thought their power a threat. Lies were spread, and they were betrayed.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered. “That’s wrong.” Insecurity and envy led to so many mistakes. She was a better shot than her dad. But when he eventually caught her practicing, she wore the bruises for weeks after. She did a lot of research into other means of supplementing their income, but he ignored any suggestion she had. He took every opportunity to belittle her, and it had taken too long a time for her to realize that his insecurities weren’t her fault.

“Do not be frightened of being with a warrior, Sascha. They have to learn that the ability of a female to take care of herself doesn’t mean she doesn’t trust her warrior to do that for her. It simply means she is able. Warriors come in all shapes and sizes.”

Sascha automatically glanced at Rachel, who looked every bit fierce and capable.

“Sometimes it takes more strength to support another than to take up arms yourself. Although,” she teased, “I hear you have skill.”

Sascha rolled her eyes but flushed at the compliment. She watched Rachel scanning the horizon and doing her best to ignore Voren, who was doing a similar thing. Brey smiled.

“I’m not sure who they are trying to fool.”

Sascha agreed. “It’s not just me, then.”

Brey shook her head. “I think they are both proud in their own way.”

“Rachel would be perfect for him, so long as they don’t kill each other first.”

Brey was silent for a moment. “Cruelty comes in many forms, and for a child who doesn’t understand the greatest sin laid at his feet was simply being born, it makes the punishment harder.”

“Especially when it is unjust.” She knew how he felt. Not to the same degree, but she understood.

Brey inclined her head. “Now, what can I help you with?”

Sascha accepted the change of subject and pointed to the bush at the side of the dirt track. They were sporadic, but they were growing. “On my planet, we call that an aloe vera plant. Its sap can help with a multitude of things toward overall health, but what I want to do is to make it into an oil you can rub on your skin. It would mean—for me certainly—that I would have some protection in the Dry from getting burned by the sun.” Brey’s eyes widened as she spoke, and she gazed at the plant.

“We call it Dross. My translator tells me that means it’s worthless, tainted. Something of poor value.”

“You mean a weed,” Sascha said. “But it isn’t at all. I’m assuming these are common here?”

“Very,” Brey said. “In fact, I think I remember my elder matriche using the sap as a tonic, but all her notes are lost, so I cannot be certain.”

“Lost?”

Brey’s eyes grew stormy. “Destroyed is a more accurate word. When the crystals were discovered, the king outlawed a lot of the old traditions. He said that anyone keeping to the old ways did not want to embrace Ishtaan’s future and was betraying their people. My elder matriche had all her diaries confiscated and burned.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sascha replied. “My own world has been guilty of that throughout history.” They climbed the hillside a little, and Brey pointed out some vegetation. There was a root that if used within an hour would purge the poison from a highly toxic small reptile they simply called a crawler, which sounded horrifying to Sascha, who had never been fond of anything that crawled.

“And this—” Brey bent down and picked a plant with small green berries. “—is how we know we are expecting young.” She laughed. “Well in the villages anyway. I am sure there are more scientific ways now.”

Sascha blinked. “Young,” she repeated rather inanely because of course, she knew that’s what the Ishtaans called children.

Brey nodded. “We crush the berries into a paste, then mix it with…” She hesitated, probably choosing a word. “Urine?”

Sascha nodded. “We have a scarily similar way on Earth.”

She nodded. “It turns the paste red. That’s how you know.” She nearly asked Brey how early it worked but held her tongue. “I understand that is why you were chosen though.” Brey smiled, seeing Sascha’s confusion. “You have to have a very similar biology to ours. For instance, the Tamzur lay eggs.”

Brey eyed Sascha, then picked a handful of the berries and slid them into one of the many pouches she carried. “I will make you some. It lasts for a lunar cycle.”

Sascha had no idea what to say to that enigmatic pronouncement, so she searched for another topic. “Callie told me something about a flower that used to be worth a lot in trade value,” Sascha said, staring at the barren earth and wondering how on earth any plants were managing to survive.

“Ghost lilies. Something else that didn’t survive the mines,” Brey said. “This area especially has a type of soil rich in dark rock. The rock is where they mine for the Azteen crystals. The lilies also thrived in it, but destroying the rock for the crystal also destroyed the root source.”

“What made them so sought after?”

When she didn’t get an answer, she glanced back at Brey. Brey was gazing up the hillside, but the older woman’s sudden silence sent nerves tripping up her spine. “What is it?” Sascha asked, but just then, she felt it. A slight shaking under her feet. She was no stranger to tremors, but standing precariously on a hill wasn’t a good place to be if one hit.

“How does the hillside move?” Brey cried in alarm. Sascha didn’t answer, she grabbed her hand at the same time she heard a shout from Voren and what sounded like thunder. Voren and Rachel met them and practically dragged them both to safety. Rocks fell and trees slid, but the real noise came from the direction the others had gone.

N’ameth.Heart pounding, she wrenched her hand free of Rachel’s and ran. She could hear the others following, but there was no way she would be stopped. The noise was dying down as they all rounded the corner, but clouds of dust made it impossible to see. “N’ameth,” Sascha cried, but Voren rounded on her before she could get any closer. He grabbed her arm and glanced at Rachel.

“Keep them safe. Blasters won’t protect against falling rocks. Until I locate Xar’ta, I need you to guard them.”

Rachel—amazingly—didn’t argue, just practically dragged Sascha away from the path and onto the grass. “There may be more rocks falling. We need to keep clear.”

“Let me go. I—”

“Stop it.” Rachel shook her, hard. Sascha took a breath, ashamed. Two years ago, there had been a report of an active shooter—false, thank god—and she’d kept her preschoolers from panic and injury. What’s wrong with me? She knew better than this. Sascha’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. Another cloud of dust blew up, and they all bent over coughing, trying not to swallow the grit and dirt in the air. Shouts were heard as warriors freed themselves, and then she heard a voice she recognized.

“N’ameth,” Sasha cried again. She had a second to recognize him as he emerged from the dust, and she ran straight into his arms. She buried her head into his dirt-caked chest and closed her eyes. She was fooling herself. She didn’t want another warrior.

She wanted the one who held her in his arms.

After a moment, she felt him withdraw, and she let go. He clasped her hand and turned to Voren. “It was a slide.” He took a breath. “G’oresh is unconscious, but Cezar is tending him and thinks he will be fine. We’re searching for Xar’ta. They were ahead of me when the slide started.” N’ameth turned to Sascha and gazed at her with such longing her breath caught. “I must help my warriors.”

Sascha nodded. “We’ll stay here.”

He stared right at her questioningly. She had run to him. Run for him. And her heart gave a happy dance when she recognized the same emotion in him. His large hand cupped the side of her face, gently, almost as if he was afraid to touch it, and she turned her head and kissed his palm. He sent her a grateful look, seeming reluctant to drop his hand. He stepped back to the hillside. She glanced at Rachel. “You don’t need to guard us. We’re right here, and I have a blaster.”

Rachel eyed her warily but joined in the search, which Sascha knew she was desperate to do. The air cleared, and soon Brey was called upon to help with some of the injuries. There weren’t many apart from G’oresh, who had woken up. Sascha sat with Zurtak, who looked about fifteen, in her opinion. He obviously wasn’t, but he was still shaken up by the whole thing and trying not to show it. He had a nasty bump on the head, and Voren had commanded he sit when he had staggered a little as he tried to help. “I need you to protect the female Sascha,” he said formally, and Sascha hid a smile. She knew what Voren was doing. “Prince N’ameth needs this of you.”

Zurtak squared his shoulders as if he had been given a great responsibility but remained sitting. They watched as N’ameth and Voren soon had everyone accounted for except Xar’ta, and Rachel came back to sit with them. “I guess he’s buried under that lot?” Sascha asked, looking at the completely covered cave entrance.

“The trouble is he knows these caves,” Rachel said. “If he is trapped on the other side, there is a chance he could escape. These caves are all interconnected and have openings all over the hillside. They don’t dare disturb the rocks so soon in case it starts another slide.”

“I think we need to head back.” The sun was getting uncomfortably strong, and Sascha knew the warriors would need to be here for some time searching. And as much as she would deny it if challenged, she didn’t want to hang around if Xar’ta was on the loose. As if she had called him, N’ameth came jogging over.

“We have to stay until we find Xar’ta one way or another,” he said grimly. “We also need a pallet to transport G’oresh’s back.”

“I’m sorry,” Sascha said and squeezed his arm. For a moment, N’ameth stared at her. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he closed them firmly.

“Rachel, Brey, Zurtak, and Voren will accompany you. As soon as Lam’saak has secured the camp, in case Xar’ta managed to get free and has headed back there, he will send two warriors with a pallet.”

“There aren’t enough of you. Keep Voren here,” Sascha urged. “You only have Cezar and Ro’man with you. It’s important you find him.”

But N’ameth shook his head. “Nothing is more important than keeping you safe, my Sascha.”

And just like that, N’ameth’s quiet declaration hit her right in the heart. She could feel her resolve slipping further away. They had to talk. “He needs to be caught to keep us all safe.” Sascha had seen the way Xar’ta had looked at her, and the thought of that monster roaming free made her feel sick. But she knew N’ameth wouldn’t budge on this, and while she might fight for her independence, maybe now wasn’t the time.