Page 43 of Taken to Voraxia
“Okay,” she says. But her arms have crossed over her chest and her shoulders are tucked under her ears and her body is angled in a way that tells me she is no longer looking at the sleeping furs but at what is hanging beside it.
Rage. Shame. Grief. My body kicks with it and I do not know what I am meant to do with these treacherous feelings. There have been too many of them in too short a time. I cannot think. I feel unseated.
No longer Raku, but unborn intoXoran, the weak youngling who sometimes fought battles that he lost. Raku does not lose. Raku is nothing but sure. I must vanquish this Xoran forever, but I must do something else first.
I stride forward, careful not to brush the Rakukanna with my arm, even though nothing would give me greater pleasure.
My skin tingles when we draw close to one another. It makes me stumble. I have to take a large step to correct it and that step brings me directly before the ceremonial breeding belt, one that I acquired from the Niahhorru illicitly, though I would never dare own to it.
The strands are of the hair from a he’varr — an underwater creature the size of a werro tree root that exists in the ice flats of Nobu. The last one was killed over fifteen rotations ago by a Nobu warrior, who was later exiled to Niahhorru for his role in the failed Dra’Kesh invasion led by the previous Bo’Raku.His sire, and just as treasonous.
Last rotation, I traveled to the Niahhorru planet of Kor and, under disguise, managed to track the warrior and his silks down and purchase them. They cost me more than any other piece of weaponry or technology I own, combined. And now they are worth nothing.
I withdraw the ion short-sword that hides in the belt of my covering. Its sleek black surface flashes into being with a hiss and I hear a short gasp behind me instances before I hear a light whisper in front of me. I bring the sword down and shred the breeding belt in one stroke.
I resheathe my sword and rip what remains of the delicate strands from their mounts in the branch-woven ceiling.
Turning to face her, I say quietly, “You do not think yourself a slave. Or rather, you do not think yourselfonlya slave. You think yourself my whore.” The last of the pale white shreds flutters to the floor from my grip, pooling at my feet along with my pride.
She meets my gaze and her strength surprises me, even if her honesty cuts me to the quick. “Hexa.”
I close my eyes, tamp my nerves and fight not to allow ribbons of red to explode through my ridges. I must remain calm, even as I inhale the scent of jujji berries, so deeply. “It is not common for a Raku, but nothing about this arrangement is common, so I will extend myself and speak openly with you here.”
I exhale and meet her gaze, even as I try not to get lost in it. “I was made aware of your moon colony in a review of my outer planets’ energy budgets. When I confronted Bo’Raku about the energy being supplied to your moon, he told me that there was a natural resource on the moon that made the energy supply worth the expense. I pressed, and when he resisted, I pressed harder. Bo’Raku told me only then of the Hunt.
“Though this is not a custom we partake in here on Voraxia’s principle planet, forms of the Hunt are practiced on many of the others. On Cxrian, on Nobu. What Bo’Raku described to me, as his Raku, was a pactwillinglymade between your human leaders and the Dra’Kesh by the Bo’Raku before him.
“I now understand the nature of this pact in its entirety. You have taught me this. Pact does not mean equal trade when there is an imbalance of power. Unlike the Hunt that takes place on Cxrian, or the similar Run of the Mountain that takes place on Nobu, your people never had a desire to participate. Your people’s pact with the Dra’Kesh was a forced trade. And now, the pact between you and I is also forced.”
My tail snaps back and forth through the air, its black glass dagger tip itching to pierce flesh.Bo’Raku will suffer for this. “So there will be no pact. No Hunt. No trading of flesh between us. It is clear that you had no interest in this mating, even from the moment the Xanaxana came alive and presented us to one another as Xiveri mates, so I will not force you. I will not trade with you for what I wished you to willingly give. Because desire cannot be manufactured.” I remember the words she said to me just solars ago. Less. And I feel despair.
“I will dishonor you no longer by remaining in your presence. These chambers are yours until the ceremony of the Rakukanna. You will need to remain confined to them until then. After, you will have free reign of your kingdom. At this stage, we will determine a suitable living arrangement that brings neither discomfort onto you, or shame onto our union.
“I hope that this may please you and that it may serve as a sign of contrition for the acts of my kind against your humans, and of me against you. Though as for the latter, I never intended to dishonor you. It dishonorsmeto do so and knowing that I have is a price I will pay for the remainder of my rotations.” I exhale. The world is silent. There is nothing but the sound of the werro growing around us. Nothing at all.
Her lips part. I can read nothing of her facial ticks and cues. Is she pleased by this or is it grief that shines in her soft, vermillion features? There are no creases. Her tail is still. Her lips form neither an expression of pleasure or displeasure. She looks nowhere but into my gaze. Deep into my gaze where she pulls my Xaneru forth with her will alone.
“No pact?” She says finally.
My hearts yearn to know her mind, even as they sink like stones. “No pact.” I step up to her and bend so that I may speak into her ear. “Whatever you want Rakukanna, is already yours. And your friends, though traitors, will also want for nothing. Your people are safe. It may mean little to you, but I vow you this, on my honor.”
I pause, waiting another breath for her to speak, but she doesn’t. She just tenses and turns her face to look up at me with those wide, open eyes framed by heavy, wondrous lashes. She is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. And she is mine.Nox. She is her own. And I cannot touch her.
“Lemoria will return tomorrow during the span. Until then, you will be greeted by Mor’Rai who will tailor a menu to your tastes, Drakanna who will help you prepare for the ceremony, and Tri'Herion. He is our leadinventor,” I say, using the human word she had.
“He will be curious about the device you created aboard my ship and will ensure that if you dismantle any more pieces of our home to generate new objects of mayhem or fancy, that you will do so safely. Be safe,” I finish, “This is the only command that I shall ever give you.”
I turn and head for the door, and I do not wait for her words to chase me out. More likely than not I would be left waiting in a silence that would echo through the twisted shell of my writhing Xanaxana, and disintegrate me to dust. Down to the bone.
I turn my back on my Xiveri mate, though every fiber of my being tells me to remain at her side, because only at her side can I be whole.
12
Raku
It has been three solars. Three solars without seeing or touching or tasting or scenting my Rakukanna. Three solars of torture at not knowing what she ate, what strange expressions clouded her Dra’Kesh features, what she looked like while sleeping.
What does she look like cradled among my furs? Do they complement her skin color as I had hoped they would? Does she nestle into them as she had my chest when I slept at her side once before?
