Enslaved (Brides of the Kindred Book 14) (42 page)

Chapter
Thirty

“Mother!” Realizing she was still naked in Thrace’s
lap, Trin looked frantically for something—anything—to cover up with. Thrace
helped by handing her a large, fluffy yew-down pillow. She grabbed it and held
it lengthwise against her naked body. “Mother,” she said again and then didn’t
know what else to say.

“
Lonarra?” Her mother stared at her blankly
for a moment. “Lonarra Ellenna Trin, what is going on here?
What
are you doing?”

Though
she had been out on her own for years, making her own way and captaining her
own ship, that sharp, maternal tone still had the power to paralyze Trin with
fear. Above all things she had always desired her mother’s good opinion. Now it
looked as though it would be lost forever.

“Mother,”
she said desperately. “I…I can explain.”

“You
can, can you?” One pure silver eyebrow rose and her mother gave her a
disbelieving look. “You can explain how you come to be sitting
naked
in the lap of a
male
who is also naked? And what was
that you were saying about being pregnant, before we got a visual feed? Is this
some kind of sick joke?”

“It’s
no joke,” Thrace
growled from behind her. “Your daughter was poisoned, Lady Trin. We had to save
her life. That’s why we’re…” He cleared his throat. “In this position.”

“Is
that so?” Now her mother’s icy gaze was turned upon Thrace, studying him as though he
was some kind of pet which had suddenly gained the power of speech. “And whom,
may I ask, are
you?”

“I
am Thrace S’ver, a Havoc of the elder line of S’ver and captain of the merchant
class vessel,
The Empress,”
Thrace
said, looking Trin’s mother right in the eye. “I am also, through a long and
complicated series of events, currently your daughter’s loyal slave, bodyguard,
and companion.”

“You
bought a slave?” Trin’s mother looked at her again, frowning. “You know the
Daughters of Zetta Prime frown on such practices.” She sniffed. “Among
other
things.”

“I
know but I had to—for trading purposes on Yonnie Six,” Trin said quickly. “And Thrace
is…he’s…” She tried to think how to put it. “He’s more than a slave.”

“What
do you mean,
more?”
Her mother’s tone
had turned soft and dangerous and Trin felt a shiver run down her back. As a
child, she had known that the softer her mother’s voice got, the more severe
her punishment would be. Thrace,
however, didn’t have the benefit of that knowledge.

“What
she means is that I love her,” he said, lifting his chin. “I love your daughter
and I have pledged my life to her.”

“So
this pet male of yours believes himself to be in
love
with you?” Her mother’s silver eyebrows rose another notch.
“Which is presumably why I find you in the middle of this disgusting
, degrading
act?”

“No,
Mother! I—”

“Enough
excuses.” Her mother’s voice rose from a near whisper to crack like a whip. “I
had hoped that the vid I was sent by a certain Lady Tam-tam of Yonnie Six was
some kind of sick joke—a sham or a fabrication. But now I find you doing
this.”
She gave them both a look of deep
disgust. “And don’t bother to try and play off the situation young lady, I know
exactly
what I am seeing and it
sickens
me!”

“Mother,
you don’t understand!” Trin exclaimed. “I…I was poisoned. Like Thrace
said—with passion berry wine! This…” She motioned with one hand, while she kept
the pillow clutched tight to her chest with the other. “Making love with
him…was the only way to save my life.”

“Then you should have let yourself die.”
The
words were spoken with such cold, brutal certainty that Trin gasped and
clutched at her heart with her free hand. Her mother’s scorn and harsh judgment
gave her an actual, physical pain—like an icy blade piercing her chest.

“Mother,
please,” she whispered. “You…you don’t mean that.”

“And
if you do, you’re a heartless bitch,” Thrace rumbled menacingly. “How can
you speak so to your own daughter?”

“And
how can you purport to care for her when you’ve ruined her beyond hope, you…you
male?”
Trin’s mother shot back. She
turned her attention back to Trin. “There’s only one thing you can do now,
other than killing yourself. Come home. Come home and subject yourself to the
Purification of the Defiled. It is the only way.”

Trin
felt her stomach do a slow, awful flip.

“The…The
Purification of the Defiled?” It was a rite only the head priestess of the
temple could perform—a horrible, painful ordeal which was whispered about with
dread. It was mostly reserved for Daughters of Zetta Prime who had been raped
or taken against their will in some way by a rogue male. Some said it was a
fate worse than death—and her own mother wanted her to undergo it? “Mother,
please…” she said numbly.

“Come
home,” her mother repeated firmly. “At once. Have the ritual done. I will speak
to the Head Priestess, Betina—I will tell her that this male bewitched you in
some way and led you into defilement. I’ll make a large donation to the
temple—she’ll do the ritual. And then…no one will ever have to know about this
horrible thing you’ve done. No one…” She closed her eyes briefly. “No one but
me.”

“But…”
Trin was trembling. “But it’s supposed to be so painful and…and
disfiguring
.”

“Look
at you!” Her mother’s voice dropped to a low, disgusted whisper. “Look at you,
Lonarra. You were once one of the Unpenetrated. I was so proud of that—so
proud.
And now…” She turned her head.
“Now I cannot even bear to meet your eyes.”

“Mother,
please…”

“Come
home. Quickly. Or I will be forced to go to the temple and have you declared
one of the Defiled Dead.” She looked at Trin again. “I don’t want to do that,
Lonarra. Don’t
make
me do that. Come
home.”

Before
Trin could protest again the image flickered and then died as the viewscreen
went black.

* * * * *

“You’re
not actually going to go, are you? You’re not really going to do that?” Thrace
exploded when the evil woman who was apparently Trin’s mother finally vanished
from the screen.

“I
have to.” Trin rose from his lap—the encounter with her mother had made Thrace
go completely soft so she was able to get up with ease. “I
have
to,” she said again, going to the clothes storage area and
beginning to get dressed. “You heard my mother—there’s no other way.”

“No
other way for
what?”
Thrace
demanded.

“No
other way for me to be forgiven.” Trin had pulled on one of her familiar black
jumpsuits and a pair of black boots. She looked completely different from the
female he had served on Yonnie Six but it wasn’t just her clothing that was
changed.

Something’s broken inside her,
Thrace
thought, staring at her in concern and remorse.
Gods help me but it’s true.

“Yes,
it’s true—something is broken.” Trin spoke in a low, distracted voice and he
realized that she must have heard him through their newly forged mental bond.
“It’s broken but I can fix it…maybe. If I go home.”

“You
can’t go!” he insisted.

“I
have to. But there’s something else I have to do first.” She tucked a small,
snub-nosed blaster into the folds of her black jumpsuit and turned for the
door.

“Trin?
Where are you going? What are you planning to do?” Thrace rose quickly, stuffing
himself back into the tight leather trousers he wore. Damn it, why hadn’t he
gotten himself together when he saw her getting dressed? By the time he was
decent, she was already out the door. “Trin!” he called, trying to follow her.
But to his horror, he heard the sound of a metal bolt snicking into place—she
had locked him in.

“Trin,
no—don’t be a fool!” he roared, pounding on the door. When that didn’t work, he
kicked it. It held solid despite his best efforts—the metal panel was thick and
the bolt was a strong one.

“I
have to go.” Her voice was distant and cool from the other side of the door. “I
have to do this. You’ll be safe in there and I’ll come get you after…if I can.”

“Trin—”
Thrace
began but he could already hear her boot heels echoing along the metal corridor
as she walked away.

He
knew where she was going—to confront Two. And there was no way he could stop
her or protect her.

* * * * *

“My,
my—back so soon?” Two’s single eye gleamed with malevolent glee as he saw Trin
enter the room. “And feeling much better, I hope?”

“Much
better,” Trin said evenly. As she spoke, she took in the situation with a
single glance. Two was standing in the middle of the control area, the dissipater
still held idly in one hand. The crew—the few that were left—were crowded at
the far end of the room behind him. Doubtless he had been menacing them earlier
but now he had his back to them and was giving Trin his entire attention.

She
knew what she had to do—she just had to find someone to help her. Trin let her
eyes flick up to meet those of her crew. Yonish, her engineer looked away and
so did Talah, the ship’s cook. One by one, they all looked away from her
searching glance, denying or ignoring her silent order. But finally, Trin
locked eyes with Sidna. Sidna didn’t look away or drop her gaze. She only
nodded imperceptibly.

“And
did you get what you
needed
to quench
your thirst?” Two taunted. “I understand that the Havoc can be most productive
in that area. Is that true?”

“The
only thing I’m thirsty for now is your blood.” Trin strode forward, keeping
Two’s attention fixed on her.

“Ah-ah,
my dear—I don’t think so!” He raised the dissipater and pointed it at her. Trin
nodded slightly at Sidna and the medic rushed Two from behind. Locking one arm
around his skinny throat, she grabbed the arm with the dissipater and jerked it
up sharply, just as he fired.

The
dissipater went flying from his grasp and the shot went wild and hit a panel of
insulation near the ceiling, burning a huge hole in the greenish-yellow stuff.
Luckily it absorbed most of the damage and kept the dissipater blast from
eating through to the top of the ship. Trin was distantly grateful for that—she
didn’t need a hull breach on top of everything else right now.

Stepping
up, she shoved the muzzle of her blaster right under his jaw before he could
wriggle loose from Sidna’s grip.

“Good
job, Sidna!” Trin told her friend. “And you—hold still.” She glared at Two
coldly. “Or I’ll blow your head off now rather than later.”

Two
stopped struggling at once. This close to him, Trin could see that the rotten
patches in his exposed brain had grown until almost all of the gray, spongy
tissue was consumed by putrid, black decay. She could smell his stench—the
stench of dead things hidden away in a hot, dark space—even through the clear
plasti-shield he wore over that area of his head. She’d been too drugged with
the passion berry wine to notice before, but now it made her want to gag.
Somehow she held her stomach in check and shoved the blaster even harder into his
skinny neck.

“Talah,”
she said, without looking away from him. “Go to the anteroom attached to mine
and get the manacles on the cot. Bring them here to me
now.”

“Y-yes,
Captain.” Trembling, Talah did as Trin said and was back in an instant with the
manacles—and also Thrace.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered to Trin. “I had to let him out when I went
in for the manacles. I tried to stop him but he’s so
big.”

“Don’t
worry about it,” Trin told her, never taking her eyes from Two. “It’s fine.
Just put the manacles on the prisoner.”

“I’ll
do it,” Thrace
said. Sidna stepped back and he took the metal cuffs from the trembling cook
and locked them around Two’s skeletal wrists, cinching them tight. “All right,”
he said in a low voice to Trin. “Now what? You want to shoot him?”

“Yes,
kill him!” Sidna exclaimed in a trembling voice.

“Not
yet,” Trin snapped. She gave the medic a look that made the other woman step
back. Then she glanced around. “The wine. Where’s the wine he made me drink?”

Thrace
rummaged through Two’s pockets and found the flask.

“Here
it is—now what?”

“Are
there enough for three drinks?” Trin asked coldly.

Thrace
frowned. “There are but I’m not sure how it would affect a male of his
species.”

“Give
it to him. Let’s find out.” Her voice sounded distant and cold in her own ears.

Thrace
started
to protest then stopped.

“As
you wish, Mistress,” he murmured, unscrewing the cap of the flask.

“What?
No!” Two protested, trying to jerk away when Thrace pressed the flask to his
thin, liver-colored lips. “This is not part of the foretelling!
You
are supposed to be my doom!” he
exclaimed, staring wildly at Thrace.
“You’re supposed to shoot me and put me out of my misery—not
add
to it!”