Page 9 of The Price of Peace
“I didn’t ‘get’ it?” I moved the fabric back into place to hide the mark. “I was found with it as a baby.”
“You may have had it since you were a baby, but someone gave it to you.”
I shrugged. “I know, but I don’t know where it came from, or even what it means. Who would tattoo a baby?”
“I don’t know. I also don’t know why I suddenly have the same one.” He grimaced. “Okay, I maybe have a theory. I’m not sure, but it’s the only thing I can think of that would explain this.”
The same thought was occurring to me, but I didn’t like it. I twisted my mouth before asking, “What’s the theory?”
“As you know, Rykantosian lore says, when you find your bonded mate the goddess marks you with matching symbols proclaiming your destiny. I don’t know anyone this has actually happened to, so I thought it was just an old myth.”
Yeah, he had the same thought as me. But it wasn’t possible. I shook my head. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I know it sounds farfetched and bonded mates are extremely rare, but it’s the only thing that makes any sense.” He pushed a braid off my shoulder.
“Zame didn’t believe in superstitions and fairytales. I didn’t learn a lot of lore, just practical things,” I admitted. “Anyway,I’m not a Rykantosian. The kids in school made sure I was fully aware of that fact. I’m too … different. Your lore doesn’t apply to me.”
Xyrox’s dark brows slammed together. His fierce expression suddenly showed me a different side of him—the one I wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. But he didn’t argue with me. Instead, he asked, “Do you think it could have anything to do with being able to talk in our heads?” Xyrox pointed to his temple just in case I needed a visual. I avoided rolling my eyes, but just barely.
“There must be a scientific explanation,” I answered, rising and pulling my puffy coat tighter around me. Another shiver that had nothing to do with the cold skittered down my spine.
But we didn’t have time for magical tattoos or illicit canoodling. We were on a hostile, barren ice planet, and I was freezing. “For now, I need to get this fire started again. I think there’s another heating cylinder in my emergency pack.”
Xyrox sat up and zipped up his own parka while watching me rummage. My thoughts were blessedly silent, concentrated as they were on finding the cylinder and staying warm without being attached to a big, red warm male body. Heating units were much less problematic.
“I’m not the one being problematic,” Xyrox said from behind me.
“Quit eavesdropping in my head,” I bit out.
“You’re thinking really loudly,” he complained. “You’re practically throwing the words at me.”
“I can’t throw words at you,” I retorted. “That’s not even a thing. Stop it. Turn off whatever tech you’ve got on you and it’ll stop.”
“I’m telling you, Peace, it’s not me. I don’t have any tech. This has never happened to me before. Not until I met you.”
“Aha!” I pulled the heating cylinder out of the bag in triumph and made my way back to the small heater. “I’m not telepathic. At twenty-five years old, I would’ve noticed by now if I could read minds.” I popped the cylinder in and, after a few clicks of the flint, lit the fire. “How did you know my name?”
“Maybe it manifested late or developed because of trauma? Were you hit on the head recently? Have you ever studied anything about the Pleiadians? I’m sure that’s your heritage with your coloring and all. And you told me your name.”
“I did not.”
“You did. Right before you fell back asleep. How would I know it otherwise? It’s not like that’s a name I would have guessed based on your personality.”
I gave him my best death glare but silently conceded he was right. “Fine, but I don’t give you permission to use it, fugitive.”
“Whatever you want, agent.”
“And how do you know so much about these Pleiadians?” I asked, trying to keep my genuine curiosity concealed from my voice. If he knew anything about my origins, I had to know.
“I told you. I was undercover and investigating Regent Jökull. He’s Pleiadian. Most of the higher class is full of snooty, high-minded fekks and he’s one of the worst. He thinks they’re a superior race, so he’s trafficking in all kinds of nasty stuff, including people—women, children as well as running an illegal cloning and genetic experiment business. I didn’t have the exact reason why, but I was getting close to figuring it out and having enough evidence to bust him. He must’ve realized it, because that’s when I was arrested and charged with treason.”
Falling silent, he clenched his jaw and gathered his braids in one large hand, tying them together with a strip of cloth he pulled from a pocket. The cloth looked like he’d torn it from his prison uniform.
That done he continued with his narrative. “Someone I trusted betrayed me to Jökull, and the next thing I know, the Tactical Universal Gendarmes broke down my door and arrested me for treason and cross-galaxy trafficking—the very things I was after Jökull for.
The trial was a sham. I wasn’t allowed to use a lawyer or challenge any of the witnesses who came in to testify against me. The judge was clearly on the take. That’s how I ended up in prison, awaiting sentencing—either execution or exile to a penal colony that was the same thing, just slower. Escape was my only option.”
Struggling to process this new story versus the “facts” I had in my legal documentation, I studied Xyrox Quorath. All my bounties told me they were innocent to persuade me to release them—and it never worked. But for some reason, I believed Xyrox. The intergalactic tribunal system was infamously corrupt—callous prosecutors, blackmailed witnesses, judges willing to take a bribe to let the wealthy go free with a slap on the wrist, the famous avoiding charges altogether. I shook my head.Don’t be naïve, Peace. This is a good bounty, and you really need a new ship now.
