Page 20 of Bonded By Savages

Now that I have her in my estate, everything’s become so much more complicated.

“We give them up,” I state. “It’s five women. They would have been eaten by Bullfrogs if we didn’t save them. We’re outnumbered here.”

I thought of the warriors on this planet as my brothers, fighting towards a singular cause. We all wanted revenge on the Aurelian Empire. We all wanted to find the one woman in the universe who could bear our sons.

Now, I know they would turn on me at the order of the Priests. Only a direct order from Obsidian could save us, and he is only one man.

Tarak growls. “I don’t like it. She won’t like it.”

“It’s not up to her. I bear the burden. They won’t be mistreated, not with Obsidian’s decrees and threats. They’ll serve in harems, if they’re willing, or as servants otherwise, but they’ll have hot food and a place to sleep, and they won’t fear slavers or Scorp.” I lick my lips. “It is our only choice.”

I turn and walk back into our estates, waving my hand for the doors to close. The shreds of the dark robes are itchy against me. I need to change out of these damnable things and into something that can protect me against a bullet, or shrapnel from a Reaver’s missile fire.

My armor can stop bullets…

But against the blades of Fanatics, it will be like tissue paper.

6

Athena

My stomach growls, and I lick the empty bowl, cleaning it of the last residue of the broth.

I’m in the main bedroom of the duo, and there is a huge window without glass. I stand at it, peeking around the side, so I can look out without being seen. I heard voices, and my instincts told me to check out what was happening.

I watched the two Aurelians go to the front gate, where they met with two triads of those awful Fanatics with the brands on their foreheads, and even worse, three Priests. Those brands on their heads are even more disgusting than the ones on my captors’ chests.

The Priests look more like they have parchment for skin than marble, bony skeletons with protruding bones. One of them glances up, and I dart back.

My stomach growls again.

My mouth waters as I imagine the meat and bread on the table. Just one bun…surely they wouldn’t notice. I’m so hungry, and the soup, while I could feel it working its medicine, didn’t sate me.

For once, in years, I want to feel full.

I got good at moving silently as a servant. I didn’t risk it, much—Bladdard had us watch a servant who was caught trying to steal food from the kitchen whipped in front of us.

Once, though, two Bullfrogs fought in the hallways when one bumped into the other while carrying a roast of some huge, horned goat it must have hunted. I risked peering out through the doors, opening them slightly, even though other servants begged me to close them and hide.

They drew their Orb-Axes, smashing them against each other, fighting to get the upper hand. At the same time, both of them darted their blades forward, cutting each other’s throat. They fell, and tadpoles darted to the bodies, feasting before other Bullfrogs came to cannibalize them.

As they fell, I saw a chunk of red, rare meat fall, lodged in a crack in the wall. That night, I snuck out, creeping, a sleeping Toad guard not noticing me as I snatched the morsel, placed in my mouth, and came back. Every other servant was sleeping. It wasn’t much more than a mouthful, but it was more protein that I got in the past week.

I creep softly out of the bedroom. My bare feet are soundless against the stone floor. Aurelians have better hearing than humans, but if they’re still outside, speaking with those cursed Priests, I have a window.

The two servants, in plain brown clothes, are speaking with each other in low voices down the hallway, and they don’t notice me creeping down.

I make it to the dining room and I nearly cry with the emotions that flood me.

Oh Gods.

It’s still untouched. Bread. Fresh, warm bread, with a plate of soft butter. I haven’t had butter since before I was captured, and that was nothing compared to what I see in front of me. It was measly, gruelly stuff, made by an organic synthesizer. Only the richest on the space station got the real stuff.

I race and grab a bun. I should bring it back up to my room, but I can’t resist. I grab butter between my thumb and finger, smearing it on the bun, and take a bite.

It is heaven. I open my mouth wide to stuff the rest in.

“Stop!”

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