Page 13 of Neverwylde 6
Chapter 7
Questions
Kelen lost all track of time. There was no way to tell how many days they were aboard the warship. The Seneecian who brought her the packet of water and food didn’t appear to come on a regular basis. Or he could have been. It was difficult to know, since she spent a lot of her time sleeping. When she was awake, to try and fend off boredom she did exercises, working specifically to get her leg and hand back up to par. Otherwise her thoughts centered on Kyber and the rest of her crewmembers. Wondering how they were holding up. More importantly, how he was handling the problem of having declared the Terrans his allies.
Kyber.
It was impossible to put words together to explain how she was feeling since he left. Since he said they were to be no more. Part of her wanted to scream and beat on the walls to vent her frustration. But more than anything, she wanted to run into his arms and demand he make love to her. She needed him emotionally and physically. She needed the way he mentally challenged her. She thrived in his presence, and felt bereft without him.
Sometimes she berated herself for her weakness, until she was finally forced to admit all her anger and heartache was because of her love for him. And the realization surprised her. She knew she’d fallen in love with the big black Seneecian, but she’d never experienced this depth of commitment to another being until now.
It was sad to discover that all her loves in the past, those whom she’d had affairs with, and whom she’d thought she’d found the ultimate love of a lifetime, were nothing but pale reflections compared to how much she cared for Kyber. He was life-altering and eternal. He was as important to her as the air she breathed and the blood that flowed through her veins.
He was, and always would be, her other soul.
And she had to get him…if he would let her.
“Just because I love him that much doesn’t mean he feels the same way,” she argued with herself.
Then why did he Confirm himself to you? Isn’t that type of commitment considered sacred among Seneecians?
He’d told her it was. And later, when he’d announced them as Confirmed to his fellow Seneecians, they’d been flabbergasted to learn of what they’d done.
“So why is he so willing to call an end to us—”
It was like getting slammed in the face.
To protect you.
She sat up and pressed her back to the wall. “He did it to protect me. To save me.”
She knew virtually nothing about the intricacies of Seneecian protocols. But considering how deep the hatred between Terrans and Seneecians ran, it made perfect sense. He was willing to end their relationship if that was the only way to save her life.
“Oh, Kyber…Kyber…my love.”
Rolling herself into a little ball, she gave in and allowed herself to shed a few tears, until a lassitude overtook her. She was about to doze off when her cell door opened, and a different Seneecian warrior appeared in the entrance. He was not the one who’d been bringing her food. In addition, this one brandished a weapon.
“Come.”
Wiping her face, she got to her feet without question. It didn’t matter where he was taking her, or why. It was an opportunity to get out of that cell.
She heard him sniffing. Giving him a side glance, she saw him trying to keep a stoic face. Silently, she laughed. Considering how long she’d been forced to wear the same uniform, unable to bathe or wash her hair… She reached behind her head to touch the braid. Her hair was so dirty and oily, plaiting it was the only way she could stand to wear it.
The warrior ushered her into a large room where several Seneecians were seated around an oval table, one of whom was D’har Duruk. He pointed to the single empty chair that was just inside the doorway.
“Sit.”
She dropped into the chair. Her guard exited the room, but she made a bet with herself that the man remained out in the corridor, ready to escort her back to her cell when they were done. She also noted that she was alone. None of her fellow shipmates, or any of the Seneecians who’d been on the planet with her, were present. It made her wonder who and how many had sat in this chair ahead of her.
A vid wall rose from the center of the table, running from one end to the other. The screen flickered, and three Seneecian faces appeared. The men surrounding the table rose to their feet and bowed their heads.
“Be seated,” one Seneecian seated at the table ordered. As soon as the others resumed their chairs, he spoke again. “D’har Duruk, you may continue.”
A bright spotlight highlighted her. Fortunately, it didn’t shine directly into her eyes.
“Give us your name.”
Not sure if she should stand or remain seated, she opted for more formal decorum and got to her feet to respond, forcing herself to retain a stoic face.
