Warbride

Warbride is a Tyme setting story - following on from last week's post, Broken Seal. 
Artwork by Samuel Pray, created using Daz 3D, Photoshop and Filter Forge

“You’re insane, there’s no way we can successfully escape. How in the name of all the Gods do you think a mere woman could organize such a thing?”

Mere woman… The words struck hard and deep. “Because, despite everything, I’m still a warrior. I haven’t forgotten any of the skills I learned as a child or as a serving warrior. This world, your people, your King, may all believe that women are the weaker sex, lacking intelligence and abilities to match those of men, but that has - time and again - been the downfall of the Raiders.”

He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You know I don’t think that way, Elena. I’ve done everything possible to try and make life easier for you.” She looked up, narrowing her gaze as he continued. “Albeit within the confines of our ways. I’m one of the first to admit that, perhaps, our views on females is archaic, but I’ve never dismissed your abilities.”

And there it was, the sad reality. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that he’d done just that moments before. 

Elena straightened her back, anger and determination rippling through her body. Too many years spent as his slave in all but name and yet there was a part of her that had come to love this man. A man who could have sold her off, or had her killed. The warrior, she had demanded an honorable death, but his people refused to accept that women could be warriors. It wasn’t honorable to be killed by a woman and there were only two fates acceptable for a woman taken in battle.

Slavery or a war bride.

Was it love, or was it survival? She didn’t want to look at that too closely. Yet the minute the idea stumbled into the forefront of her mind, Elena was forced to face the myriad of questions. If it had been love, was love, why did the idea of leaving him behind strike her as the only sane option?

He’s my husband.

Owner, not husband. She was a war bride.

Stop thinking like that. He kept me safe. He loved me, protect me, gave me every chance he could to remain true to myself. 

Had he? Her life hadn’t been easy. She’d fought him, struggled against the role she had been forced into and by the time she was pregnant with their son…

Rape.

She swallowed hard and forced that word out of her mind. Her son. She loved him, always would. How could she ever do that with a child that had been forced upon her? Same with her daughters. Her beautiful, spirited daughters. Strong, eager to learn but if they stayed here…no, that was a fate she would protect them from at all costs.

To her knowledge she was the only current war bride among the Ontourians. Other women had been brought back only to later be sold, found to be too difficult to bend to the role of war bride. Her jaw tensed at the thought. She’d known some of the women, and in the years since she had accepted her role at his side, she’d been able to discover the eventual fates of those women, even though she had spent her years on one of the secondary worlds of their empire. Havis. An agricultural world for the most part. Farms, fishing, the supplier of food to many other worlds under the control of the Ontourian people.

All but two had died, killed by their masters for refusing to be properly submissive. Women she’d known, fought alongside of, trained and called sisters, friends - one had even been a lover many years ago. Now they were dead or broken to submission because of the way these people viewed women warriors. The men from her unit, they’d been killed or sold off as labor slaves. Two had been ransomed back to their home world, but they hadn’t been treated the same way as the women. The men, honorable warriors, no sexual slavery for them, no demeaning outfits or broken wills. Men were expected to fight back, it was the nature of being a man.

Women - to be killed by a woman was the second worst fate that could befall a man of Ontour. The first - being captured alive by one. If that happened, the man was deemed unworthy, no longer named and numbered as a warrior of Ontour. He lacked even the self-respect to kill himself before falling prisoner.

Raiders - nothing but evil bastards. Nothing will change them. They want to rule, to command all around them.

They hated that name. Her husband hated it, or so had been led to believe, but he had come to accept that she was right. Unless that was an act to help keep her obedient? No, she didn’t want to think about that. He’d been decent to her at times and… he was a Raider. They weren’t protectors on some great and noble cause. They were nothing but thieves, raiders, pirates and worse. Yet she’d been forced to accept her son would be trained and raised with those ideals. Her daughters nothing but potential marriage bait. Never to hold land in their own name, or even have the right to choose their own husbands. She’d been silent, withdrawn, played the game and even welcomed him into his bed.

There had been a good reason. I played the role. Did what I could. Now it’s time to leave. It had been worth it, every degradation paid for, small blows that struck at his people. That can’t be denied.

Nor did she even try, all that mattered during those years when escape hadn’t been a true option was the information she’d gathered and then passed on. In small pieces, hidden within personal messages to her family, she’d been able to send snippets of information. It wasn’t much but it was enough to let them know she was alive combined with snippets that might allow her friends and family the chance to fight back. The first time she’d realized it was working had been when Jarod had returned, venting about the attack that had failed, in a spectacular fashion.

That had only been the beginning.

Over the years she’d sent enough information back to be of worth, formed connections that she would now put to use, and built a network of women.

Something that the Ontourians had never thought to look into.

After all, weren’t the women of their households meek creatures, serving as they were commanded to do so? How could such beings be a threat within their own holdings? No, for the most part her network had remained safe. Only a handful had been discovered taking actions that were outside the boundaries allowed for either women of their status or women in general under the holdings of the Ontourians.

“All I have to do is alert my people and the ship will be ready. It’s not a war craft, obviously. That would have been too difficult to arrange but it will get us to safety.” At least, she believed it would. “Follow my lead and…” 

“Your lead? What are you talking about, woman? Your lead indeed, that’s insane. No one would buy it, even if we did manage to slip out of orbit without raising suspicions. No, this isn't going to work. How could you have a craft set aside? Who would trust you with such a thing? You have nothing to offer them, except a body that doesn’t belong to you - and no true Ontourian male would make a deal with a female. You know that. So, I ask again, where did you get the ship from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, of course it does!” Jarod snarled, reaching out to grab her. His hands locked on her upper arms, the grip tight, fingers digging into her flesh. “You expect me to follow the plans of a woman? You may be, once, been a commander but you’ve been a female of Ontour for years now. One who has no rights or standing beyond the bounds of our marriage? How can I do that? Why would I put my family, all of my family, at risk by running?”

How many times had he laid hands on her? She’d become so used to it that she’d stopped fighting. Until now. She shuddered and forced herself to step back. Love. Had she ever truly been in love with this man?

The realization struck her, hard and deep. This man, this husband, was nothing like the man she might have taken as her own, one who would have fought by her side and welcomed her into his life. No, instead she had been forced to part her thighs and silence her tongue. An obedient and submissive wife in his bed and in his life.

A slave.

One without rights or a voice. Oh, sure, he’d let her speak - within reason - within the confines of their - his - chamber. Only on matters that he invited her to speak on. Even then she’d had to be careful. Speak in low, soft tones, bringing reason to the forefront. The one or two times that she had attempted to speak on matters outside of his guidance, he had growled, pushing her back and silencing her. The pushing had been, for the most part, emotional or mental, but there had been physical chastisements as well. Things she would never be able to forget.

Things she should never attempt to forget.

“Woman!” He growled. “Answer me. Now! Before I’m forced to remind you of your place in this life.”

“I have friends, ones who have stood at my side for a long time. People who wish to be free yet are held in chains by the laws and customs of your people.” She looked toward the door. “We are wasting time here. We need to leave now, the children will be ready within moments of being alerted, as will their mothers.” Not just women though, there were some men who would meet them. Once they had broken free of the planet’s gravity it wouldn’t take long to reach the larger ship. A vessel that would take them, safely, out of the system.

Her place. He had no idea of her place. How could he ever understand the life she had been forced to live? He had kept his status, his honor, his power - partially by stripping all of hers away. But she would heal, once she was free of this place, of him, she would heal. In the end, she would prove to be the stronger one.

“This is insane.” He turned away, stalking across the room. “I’ll have to present you to Marcus. It’s the only hope I have. Your daughters - they will be sold off but our son - he might be safe. Yes, as long as I swear the blood oath, he will be safe. He’s proven himself time and time again in his service to Marcus.”

Her daughters, not his. He won’t even acknowledge them as offspring. Fool. They love him, for all that he has treated them as disposable. Did he love them? Oh, how she had wanted to believe that he could, that he had, but now - the bitter truth danced naked and taunting before her eyes.

“No.” She raised her chin, knowing that the chains moved with her. They wouldn’t hold her back this time. She wouldn’t back down, the time for that, for kneeling, accepting his rules and the expectations of his people, was over. It was time to stand. “If you attempt to turn me in, I will name you compliant in all of this. You will be killed but first he’ll question you, in depth - and we both know what that means. I’ll simply be sold off.” Death would have been a blessing, a simple thing to endure but there was no point telling him that. It was something he’d never understand.

“Bitch! I’ve given you everything. Protected you. Sheltered you. Now you threaten me with betrayal when I’ve given you a son! What more could a woman want, than a son? The ultimate proof of favor! I could have turned to another woman, given her the status of wife, blessed her with the ability to give me an heir, but I kept only you as my true wife - even if you were nothing but a war bride.”

And there he was, still complaining instead of taking her advice and getting the hell out of here. Was the stupidity of his people that deeply ingrained in him? Why hadn’t she seen it before? I did, I just didn't want to acknowledge what I was seeing. Fool, I’ve been nothing but a fool by refusing to see what was happening right before my eyes. “You can either stand there and swear at me, or you can come with me, escape, find a chance at a new life.” Without her. Gods above and below, had she actually partially fallen for this guy? Oh hells no, she’d played a role, nothing more and… and now she was lying to herself.

Survival method. She could admit that. She’d found a way to survive. A part of her had broken, now it was time to reclaim who and what she was.

It was time to leave, even if he decided to stay, to obey the summons, she was leaving. There were others who would help remove the chains - not that she didn’t have access to the key herself if she wanted to pat Jarod down and retrieve it from his clothing. Would he whine or would he accept the chance to escape?

If he chose to stay, she would have to disable him in some way in order to prevent him from alerting to her escape. 

“What’s to stop me from slitting your throat, woman? You’re weaponless and your skills, long turned to rust with the lack of use. You wouldn’t be able to beat me, Elena,” for a moment his voice softened, a touch of concern flickering across his features. “Listen to sense. If you tell me the entirety of it, we can hand Marcus the traitors and it might change everything in our favor.”

Another lie, and she knew it. Even if Jarod was forgiven, she wouldn’t be. He wanted his position, his power, and if that meant sacrificing her in order to retain his status, then he would do just that. Perhaps he was right, at least as far as he was concerned. Turning over an entire nest of traitors, claiming he had been watching his wife, waiting for the right moment when he could reveal all of her secrets to his King, then there was a chance that he would not only be absolved of all wrong doing but even rewarded.

“If you’d wanted to do that, you would have done so already. Just as you could have called in your guards and denounced me.” He’d opened the message, which meant Marcus - or whomever was monitoring the messages - now knew he had read it. They were, even if he was unaware of it, running out of time.

Silence filled the small office, weighing heavy on her shoulders. Doubts rippled through the back of her mind, yet she knew better than to let it show. Strange, once she had commanded warriors, never doubting her actions but now…

A soft life, one where decisions had been removed from her. Another thing he’d done to her.

I let him do this to me by not pushing for death. I knew the risks of living here, knew the dangers, yet I didn’t fight back hard enough. She had fought, but perhaps not enough. Gods above and below - I can’t back down now.

“Fine, if you truly believe we can escape, then let us be away.” His tone sharp. “Take us away from all of this.”

He wouldn’t survive outside of this place, even if he wanted to - and it was clear that he wasn’t going to try and escape with her. He was pretending, an attempt to gain the information that he wanted. Damn him. He was forcing her hand. His ways, no matter how a part of her wanted to believe otherwise, would set him apart. “You will need to listen to me, the contacts are mine, and they will not look to you for instructions.”

“Bullshit, they will listen to me soon enough, I rule here, men command not women. It will be a simple thing for them to look to me and if you were honest with yourself, then you would accept that instead of fighting me every step of the way.” He shook his head and moved toward the door. “Gather what you need.”

Elena met his gaze and reached for the small data pad she carried in a pouch on her hip. A pad that all of the senior members of his household carried, but hers had been adapted. One person with the right skills and the willingness to help her had been enough to tip the balance in her favor. She smiled, Jarod would rage once he found out who had been the source of her technical assistance. Still, it couldn’t be helped now. Without looking away, she opened the pad, found the right screen and sent the alert to the men and women she had built into a small network.

“What are you doing?” He stalked toward her, reaching out for the data pad. “Give that to me. Now.”

She didn’t blink, didn’t look away from him. “No. From this point on you are no longer in command. Get used to that now, husband.” She granted him the title, though once they were safe that would all change. Won’t it? Gods, it would have to. She’d given up so much with him, albeit through force, that she couldn’t remain with him. All of the lies, the masks she had worn in order to protect herself and her children, fell away.

“What did… woman this is the wrong time for you to flex your muscles.” He reached for the data pad, determination written across his features.

Elena blocked his attempt, her jaw set. If he continued to push she wouldn’t be able to let him escape with her, not even to then dump him later.

Would that be such a bad thing? He doesn’t belong with me, with my people - and he doesn’t want to leave his home. Anyone with eyes would see that.

She’d spent years in his bed, giving him children, care and support. A part of her had become… used to him. She swallowed. Hard. Shake it off, I’m running out of time here. I won’t let him hold me back any longer.

It was time to regain her strength, confidence and power.

“Give it to me.”

“Flex my muscles?” She sighed, taking a step back. “Jarod, husband, breathe, stop and think. If we are to escape, if we are to find a life elsewhere, in a place where we are both free, then you need to listen to me. This is the only way we have a chance of pulling through this.” The message had been sent, the alert given to the team that she had built. Husband - he was never that. Not in any real sense of the word.

“You are nothing in all of this. Give me the data pad, woman. I’m done with your defiance.” Anger colored his cheeks as he reached out for her. “Even in this you will obey me, you will submit to me, as is only right and proper. You’ll give me the pad and the names of everyone involved in this traitor’s scheme!”

And there it was. The reality. He had no desire to leave, no plan on following through with the escape. All a ruse, a means to lull her into sharing information with him. She couldn’t let him do this, wasn’t prepared to surrender her children to the life she had been forced to live. Her people would be waiting for her and…

“You damned foolish slut!” He snarled, grabbing for her.

Even with the chains in place she was able to react. She darted to the left, ducking under the attempt as she swept out with one foot, knocking his legs out from under him. All of the years spent in chains she had practiced moving, walked through the kata’s that had been drummed into her from childhood, adapting them to the length and confines of the chains. She hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but he was leaving her with no other choice. He was too erratic and would put not only herself but her children and her friends at risk.

He stumbled, tripping, a curse spilling from his lips.

She moved behind him before there was a chance for him to recover, straddling him as she dropped her knees, and the full weight of the strike, on the small of his back. He cried out, his years away from the field enough to give her a true advantage. One she used. Silently she wrapped the chains that connected her wrists around his neck and pulled, cutting off his air. No second chances. She had to finish this now. The blow against his back had been placed in a way that she hoped would partially numb his legs. Not a given but the shock of the blow would help.

He struggled beneath her, his hands clawing at the chains.

A part of her wanted to give him a painless death, but he’d prevented that. Strangling someone, even with a chain, was not a quick death. She pulled, her knees digging into his back the chain crushing into his throat, digging into his windpipe. He moved, struggling beneath her, twisting and only the years of practice gave her the chance to finish this.

Tears burned in her eyes even as her muscles ached, sweat beading across her skin. Her grip on the chains threatened to slip but she didn’t give up. Didn’t dare to stop until she felt the struggles not just ease, but cease. Even then she held on, kept the tension on the chains. She had to be sure, couldn’t give him a chance to get back up and only when she tasted salt on her lips, did she finally let go.

A quick check, a touch of fingers to throat and a count of thirty to see if there was a pulse, confirmed he was dead.

Shaking she unlooped the chain, got to her feet and stepped back, her gaze fixed on the body.

Husband. I killed my husband.

No, not husband, captor, master, the man who had taken away her freedom because he’d wanted her. He hadn’t even been willing to grant her an honest death.

Elena shook, her stomach rolling, nausea sweeping through her body. What was wrong with her? She’d killed him, killed an enemy, something she’d done before…

I was his and he was mine. We had children together…

The kids. She blinked and wiped at her eyes. Tears. She couldn’t afford to show anyone her tears. Nor could she waste anymore time. There were children to see to, they came first and it was for them that she went to the small restroom off his office and cleansed her hands and face. A wipe took care of the sweat, a touch of cosmetics - which she’d used before after he’d taken his pleasure from her in the office - then hid the flush and marks of strain across her features.

Head up, back straight and features composed, Elena stepped out of the office, closing the door firmly behind her.

Gavin turned away from his console, rising as he did so. “They will meet us in the landing bay, lady.” He inclined his head slightly.

Gavin, the most important piece in the puzzle. A man of Ontour who, like her, had been birthed by a woman not of these people. A woman who had risked everything to teach him the differences between how the Raiders treated people, and how the other planets treated their people, all of their people. His presence had been a saving grace.

“Is he - I mean…”

“No,” she knew what he was asking and didn’t make the mistake of looking back. That part of her life was over. Her son might never forgive her but by killing Jarod and not reaching out to her son, she was protecting him. There would be no trail that could lead back to him, that would put him at risk of being marked as a traitor like his mother - at least as far as their laws were concerned. I will lose him but will save his sisters.

Head up, back straight, her tears and grief buried for now, she walked away to the docking bay, the ship, the chance of freedom and a safer life with her daughters… 

Broken Seal

Broken Seal is a Tyme setting story. The second part of this story will be posted next week. 
Artwork by Samuel Pray, created using Daz3D, Photoshop and Filter Forge 

“The seal has been tampered with,” Gavin lifted his gaze from the screen, his brow furrowed. “I’ve checked the coding on this a dozen times and it’s subtle but the evidence is clear. Someone else, more than one I’d guess, has opened and read through this message before it finally downloaded here.” The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lord - I didn’t think this was possible, not with the system we have in place, the only thing I can think of is it was broken before it reached our system. Nothing else makes sense.”

“Can you trace the source of the hack?” Jarod Kleban turned the full force of his attention on Gavin, his gaze narrowing. The man was good, trustworthy, but the news was enough to set his teeth on edge. How much had he spent on the system? On the protections that had been implemented in order to keep them safe? Had someone let them into the system?

“In time, maybe my lord, but it’s not going to be easy. There are levels of protection on this message, a seal if you will, but that also makes it harder to trace the steps the message went through.” He paused, his frown deepening. “Whoever broke through security might be better than me.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Gavin was the one of the best, he’d made certain of that before he’d taken the young man on. Hearing this made his jaw clench as he took a step toward the man and his station. “Are you saying it can’t be done?”

“No, my Lord, I’m saying it will take time, and there might be a few problems. I would suggest you read the message first, see who it’s from and what it contains before I begin to back track the hacking.” Gavin’s voice remained cool and calm, but his eyes - the look in them - offered warnings that Jarod had learned to pay attention to. “I’ve just never come across someone this talented before. Damn, I’d like to meet whoever is behind this.”

“Of course, I’ll read it first,” the message, what was so important about it that someone had felt the need to break past security and read it? Had there been more than one? Gavin had suggested that it was a possibility. The thought didn’t exactly leave him with warm fuzzies. “Transfer it to my personal reader.” For Gavin to be concerned about the message itself - meant he’d read it. But perhaps he’d had no choice once he’d seen that the seal had been broken?

“Yes, my Lord.” Gavin glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s done. I’ve coded it so it can now only be opened on your reader. Should I delete the message from our system?”

“Would you be able to follow the trace back to the source if it’s deleted?” He assumed the answer would be no, but needed to hear it for himself.

“No, my lord.”

“Then don’t.” As long as no one else hacks into the system it should be safe. Would that be possible? Could they break into my data pad? Of course they could. If hacking into the main system was doable, then hacking his data pad was equally likely. Not a pleasant thought. He nodded at Gaving, reaching for the data pad he, like so many others, carried on a near permanent basis. The pad fit in the palm of his hand as he turned away from Gavin and the man’s work station. Coded, sealed messages - those weren’t exactly rare, but one look at the identifier on the message locked a fist around his heart, one that squeezed tighter with every beat of his heart.

Marcus Crassus Ontour.

King, Emperor, Lord of the Ontourian people, a man with a dozen titles but no matter what you called him, he was one thing. The only man who could order his death. A man who didn’t send personal messages to those under his rule without a damned good reason. In all of his years this was only the second such message he had ever received from Marcus and it didn’t bode well.

Don’t panic. It might be nothing. An announcement of plans, an award, perhaps an event? Even as he tried to clear his mind of concerns he knew it couldn’t be anything of that nature. All of those would have been dealt with by a general notification, not a personal message with the private seal of their King.

That seal - he swallowed hard, trying to push back his fears. He couldn’t open it where someone else might see the look on his face when he read it. Better to act normal and take the data pad into his office. He didn’t give into the desire to look back at Gavin and see if his man was watching him. No. That would have marked him as weak, uncertain of his place within his own domain. And this was his place, the people here answered to him, but he in turn answered to Marcus. As did every lord, warrior and member of the servant class within the systems claimed and protected by the Ontourian people.

Raiders. We might call ourselves protectors but to the rest of the systems we’re raiders. We steal, raid, destroy and conquer. Protectors my not so noble ass. Yet he still forces that belief down our throats. Nothing matters to him beyond expanding our territory and keeping the lie of protectors in the forefront of his people’s minds.

He scowled, touched the screen to turn it black and walked into his office, closing the door before setting the privacy shield in place. Only then did he dare to open the message once more.

Lord Kleban,

It has come to my attention that you have stepped beyond the boundaries of your office, and as such you are commanded into my presence. Acknowledge this message and report to me within three days. Should you fail to appear, then the full force of my displeasure will be unleashed upon you and your line.

You may bring with you the assigned staff that is befitting your rank, but will leave extended family behind. Your son, at this time, has not been summoned into my presence. If you wish to keep it that way, you will make haste to appear before me.

M

The single letter, the curvaceous M with elegant script work around it, made it official. Marcus Crassus Ontour was the only one who could have sent the message. His lord, his king, had made it clear. Report and explain. And then what? Death? Stripped of my rank? Why, because he hadn’t met and matched the ideal image of an Ontourian male? He scowled at the thought. Perhaps he had stepped over the line of what was acceptable when it came to behavior - he wasn’t going to deny such. He treated his women with a little more care and consideration than was the norm, and those of the servant class where given a little more leeway, better food and clothing than the norm. His people were loyal, dedicated to him, and seldom voiced complaint. At least none that reached his ears.

He’d followed the customs to the letter, at least for the most part. Laws - perhaps he’d bent a few, but who with his rank hadn’t done so? It was expected. As long as he didn’t commit treason then he was, in theory, safe.

Yet it was more than that - wasn’t it? If he hadn’t broken the customs, he had bent them. His wife, for instance, was a prime example. Nor had he taken multiple true wives as was the custom. Yes, he’d had consorts and some had given him children, but only one woman bore the title of wife.

He re-read the message and sighed. At least the man had given up on the pretentious use of the formal we. How long had the man done that? Ah yes, during his control of system one, but his loss of that system had put paid to the use. At least for the time being. But with that loss had come an increase in temper. More than one noble had lost his lands, and his head, in the past years for both actual offenses and perceived ones.

He closed the data pad and paced back and forth across the room. Had Marcus found out what he’d been doing? Beyond the small freedoms he’d given to those in his care?

“Damn him, curse all of his court!” He scowled as he stopped and stared at the door. The security on his office should have prevented anyone from finding out what he said, read, or did within this room, but what if that security had been breached? Who had betrayed him? There had to be someone who worked for Marcus in order for the information to make it outside of his home.

His stomach rolled, muscles tensing from the realization. Sweat coated his flesh as he struggled to come to terms with it. His life, his family, everything he had built here might now be at risk. Gods above and below, his son? What danger was his son now in? Like many of their station it was expected that the sons would serve as officers in the service of Ontour, but his oldest son, Paton, had shown an aptitude for flying. His reflexes were, frankly, off the chart - perhaps a gift of his mother’s bloodline? Regardless, that had resulted in Paton finding a place among the elite fighter squadron.

Paton. What have I done to you?

Not even his son knew of his father’s leanings. Or how carefully he protected his wives from danger. And they were wives, not just claimed women. He’d granted them what station he could, under the laws and customs of their people. The fact his wife, his beautiful, spirited Elana, wasn’t fully of their worlds, was another problem. In public she was reduced, at least in the eyes of many, to the status of a war bride, a slave in all but name, wearing the silver chains of ownership that came with such a rank. In private - he removed those chains, the locked collar and spoke to her as an equal, knowing that he could never show his love outside of the safety of his bedroom or this office.

A custom he had bent and battered but never fully broken. Who could truly find fault with that?

He could. Perhaps he has but why now? Elena has been my wife for, what, twenty-five years now?

Now Marcus summoned him.

Would he be expected to attend alone? He glanced down at the message. Yes and no, his family wouldn’t be permitted to come with him, but no lord of Ontour traveled without staff of some sort. He’d bring the people that would be expected, servants, a valet, pilot and guards. That he would be watched, every step of the way, was without doubt. His people would be judged, his family would be watched and when it came down to it, he’d answer to Marcus and face whatever the man had in mind for him.

More than his wife had to be at the bottom of this. Perhaps his dealings beyond the systems claimed by Ontour? The messages he’d allowed his wife to send to her family, through trusted third parties? Even then it had been small things, information about the children, her well-being. Nothing of importance.

He wouldn’t know until Marcus told him in person and by then it would be too late.

A soft knock rang on the other side of the door.

He tensed, turning to look at the heavy wood and metal door. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath and settling his nerves before he reached for the door, unlocking it before he tugged it open.

“Forgive me, my lord. I thought you would need some refreshments.” Elena, locked in the chains that were required by custom, stood before him, holding a tray of iced drinks and small bites to eat. “If I have offended, I beg your pardon and will withdraw.” Her head was bowed, long silver blonde hair tumbling forward over her features in soft curls that ran unchecked from the scarf and clips that would otherwise hold it in place.

“No, no, come, set it down.” He stepped to one side, waiting long enough for his wife to enter before he closed and locked the door behind her. Once the protection was back in place he let his shoulders slump and shook his head. “Dear one, I don’t know how you do it but I am glad to see you. You always seem to know when I might need you.” One of the many reasons why he had fallen for the woman, even though they had met in battle and she’d done the near unthinkable, injuring him during the fight.

How many men had she killed?

Not something to think of right now. Focus. Keep calm.

Elena offered a pale smile as she set the tray down on a small table to the left of his desk. “Beloved, only a blind and deaf man would be ignorant of the tension running through this household. And then only if they had lost all reason.” She folded her hands in front of her, the silver chains clinking as they semi pooled in a loop before the simple gray and blue dress she wore. “What ails you, love?”

“This,” he gestured to the data pad. “A summons from Marcus. It - it does not bode well.” Understatement but she was smart enough to understand that. Her intelligence, quick wit and ability to cut through bullshit were all qualities he had come to admire in the woman. Even if he’d had to teach her to remain silent when they were not alone.

Of course, she’d also had to learn the proper form of address. Those, sadly, had not been pleasant times. He’d almost weakened, given in to her pleas to return home.

No, not pleas, demands. Proud, words, defiance and anger.

He could see her now, standing there, angry, bound in strong chains, refusing to go to her knees. The training had taken years to sink in fully, but, despite advice from others to give her up, sell her in an open market, he had kept on, knowing the passion and love that burned within her.

She paled as she glanced down at the screen, taking a moment to read through the message before a low hiss sounded between clenched teeth. “This is worrying.”

“Yes, it is.” He growled and paced across the room, taking hold of Elena by the shoulders. With a low, hungry snarl he pulled her close, claiming her lips in a fierce kiss. For a moment she tensed, her muscles knotting beneath his fingers. Normally he would have given her time, allowed her the chance to adjust her thoughts, but he needed her, needed to know that she would still welcome him, despite the dangers that now threatened their family. A danger he had thrown them into.

Her lips parted beneath his. At first she hesitated, the parting of lips an automatic response, but as he deepened the kiss she relaxed a little more. Her body molded to his, the chains growing taut between her wrists as she leaned into his kiss.

This was the woman he had chosen as his first, a woman taken in battle, in a raid, one his fellow Raiders had told him to enslave, brand, sell off as a prize, but the defiance and passion in her eyes - that had been too much to ignore. He had needed her from the first time he had met her eyes and, despite years together, that need remained. She was his, a warrior, a woman, a wife and the mother of his first born.

Heat rippled through his body, tightening his member until it throbbed, aching with the need to press between her thighs and claim her body, but now was neither the time nor the place. With a low groan he broke the kiss, taking a step back, enough to give himself a moment to recover.

“Have you been betrayed?” Her words, carried on a breathy voice, tore through the lingering remains of his lust.

He blinked, clearing his mind. This wasn’t what he’d expected from his wife. “What makes you say that?” He knew, even as he spoke, that the question was a foolish one.

“Someone must have reported you. If Lord Ontour didn’t have evidence it would have been handled by one of his staff, but that’s signed by Marcus himself.” She frowned, tipping her head to one side. “But whatever has been shared with him, it’s not enough for him to order a death squad.” She moved back to the desk and tapped one long finger against the data pad. “No, he wants answers.”

Jarod frowned as he watched his wife. “What else do your instincts say?” Out of all of the people in his life, his Elana was among the smartest, the quickest to figure out the whys, the small details that other people missed, and over the years he’d learned to listen to her. This was his warrior wife…

“It’s the only thing that makes sense, if you’ve been summoned. He wants to strip you down, put you to the test and then make his decision.”

The test. Marcus Ontour and his tests. He wouldn’t be the first one to be called to go through such a thing, and not everyone survived the testing. Pain, humiliation, tests of endurance and more. His stomach rolled. He wasn’t a coward, not by any stretch of the imagination but no one looked at the testing without facing true fear. “This will be… a struggle.”

Elena sighed and sat on the edge of the desk, smoothing her hands down over her gown. Silver clinked as she settled, the chains a constant reminder of her status. “Life under his rule is a struggle for all women, and the servant class have it far worse. If they do not have the protection of a lord, they are fair game. What you face, when he summons you, is but the tip of the iceberg.”

Anger flared into life as he turned to look at his wife. Where was the support she should be offering him? Where was the comfort? “And that is supposed to be supportive?”

Elena looked down at the chains that connected her wrists, lifting them for a moment before she turned her attention to her husband. Her voice was soft, low pitched with a hint of steel. “No more than being told that I would be a war bride, a slave in all but name whenever there was a chance that someone might see you.” She sighed, shaking her head. “You love me, that I have never doubted. Yet I am a prisoner, a war bride, stolen away from my life, family and the dreams I might have had.” She stepped away from the desk, turning to look at him fully.

“You were given a place of honor,” he protested. Didn’t the woman understand how much he had sacrificed for her? The risks he had gone to in order to keep her safe?

“I know that’s how you see it, Jarod. It’s how you were raised, the customs of this place, of your people, but for me it’s always been a struggle. Yes - I’ve come to care for you, and I love our son, but in being your property I was also dragged away from everything I had ever dreamed of.” She rubbed her temples, a crease furrowing her brow. “You’re at risk now, and it’s time to decide if your love of your home, of the rank you have gained among these people, is more important than your life. Because that is what it will cost you, when you are taken before Marcus. He will test you and then condemn you.”

What was wrong with the woman? Had he not cared for her? Loved her? Given her protection? Allowed her freedom within their home? She hadn’t been beaten or branded as was the custom with women claimed in battle, so what did she have to complain about? They had even had a child together. No, not a child, but children. One son, two daughters. Daughters he rarely saw, as was the custom, but they had been allowed to stay in the household instead of being traded off as soon as they were weaned.

Fine, so a daughter born of a marriage with a true born wife would not have been traded off so early, so shouldn’t she be happy that he’d allowed her daughters to stay with her? “What has changed with you, Elena? Where is the loving, caring wife I need in this moment?”

She lifted her chin, the silver collar glinting around her throat. “You mean the war bride you forced to her knees?” Her tone cold, slicing through the tension in the room.

“It was that or enslave you fully!” He snapped.

“You had other choices,” Elena shook her head and tugged on the slender chains. “But instead you brought me back here.”

“Where you’ve been happy. What other choices? We’ve had children, a life together, planned a future tha…”

“No, you planned a future, my husband.” She turned away from him, her shoulders slumped. “You could have returned to my home, cast aside your allegiance to this place, and walked at my side - as an equal but only if you’d given me a chance to get to know you. To see past the cruelty of this life. I might have come to welcome you in my life.”

“But you might not. I would have been without you in my life.” He stalked toward her. What was wrong with the woman? They’d been together for twenty-five years and not once had they disagreed. Or had they? “Are you the one who betrayed me? Are you responsible for this?” His hands itched with the need to take her, shake her, to find out the truth.

She scowled, anger marring her features, her brilliant violet eyes narrowing. “No, of course not. Why would I put our son at risk? Gods… I’d be branded and sold, my daughters would suffer the same fate. They might still be taken that way, depending on what Marcus decides to do with you.”

Jarod faltered, the doubts that had flared to life crumbling in the wake of her words. “No. Of course not.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the growing tension. “Forgive me. I wasn’t thinking. I just don’t need this right now.”

Elena laughed, the sound cold and mocking. “Really, you don’t need this. Have you thought to ask me what I would do? Or do you forget what and who I was before you dragged me into this mess?”

“Woman, you dare to…”

“Right now I dare a lot. This is my life and the lives of our children, at risk with all of this. I commanded a squadron, I trained as a warrior from the day I could stand. I didn’t forget all of that when you dragged me here in chains.” She snapped the silver chain taut between her wrists. “Do you think that this stripped away all of that knowledge?”

He opened his mouth to speak, anger tightening his gut and then closed it again, shaking his head. Only then did he force himself to take a deep, calming breath before he spoke. “No, I don’t but perhaps I am guilty of pretending that you were nothing more than the mother of my children.”

“Ours.”

“Pardon?”

“Our children.” She corrected him. “They are our children, not just yours. Just as the ones you’ve had by your other women are shared with those women.” Her tone calmed, settling into an even, steady pace. One that informed rather than slapped. “And those women, your other wives…”

“Consorts, women, you are the only one named as an actual wife.” He took the opportunity to correct her, smiling at the ability to do so.

“Under your laws they are property, in reality they have given you children and should be treated with the respect due the mothers of your children. Regardless, they are also at risk. Even without the claiming of them as wives, they will be treated as such by Marcus if you are named and numbered as a traitor.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Stupid woman. Did she really think that she knew how to deal with all of this? Perhaps he had given her too much leeway? Something he would need to correct before it got out of hand, but only if he returned in one piece from his time with Marcus.

“Not suggest. Demand.” She lifted her chin, violet eyes flashing, the faded gold dusting of her skin catching the light. For the first time in years he saw the Valkyrie warrior maid, a woman trained to fight, to stand and yes, to die in battle. “We leave. We gather our family and leave this place, this hell hole of a system and find shelter elsewhere.”

He laughed, shaking his head. She was delusional, he’d been too lax with her, now she thought herself above men once more. Regret and sorrow mingled with anger as he forced the words past a clenched jaw. “And just how do you suggest we manage that?”

Elena smiled, a cold, calculated smile. “By using the escape route, the craft I’ve had in place now for over a year.”

TBC next week.