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From the bitter and resentful looks aimed at me, I already knew which clans would be paying heavy fines.
“Will you not at least speak with the Guldans?” Raylor insisted.
I sighed in irritation. “I will speak with them about potential technology trade agreements, but that is all.”
Raylor pursed his lips in displeasure but gave me a sharp nod.
“Change is hard, but the sooner you stop fighting the inevitable, the better off we will all be,” I said in a conciliatory tone. “You are the leaders of the Elder Clans and those who must set the example. However painful this process may be for all of you, personally and otherwise, remember what dark times we’ve emerged from. Braxia was on the verge of bankruptcy. Without these changes, and yes, Hagan,” I said, staring at him, “without the help of a half-breed, it is far more than our slaves we would lose. Now, I will hear no more of this. You have your marching orders.”
I rose from my seat, indicating the meeting was at an end. The clan leaders and their clansmen rose as well. After striking their chests with a fist and bowing their heads in a reluctant show of respect from some of them, they walked out of my Hall. Krygor, Pattel, and Fenton lingered. My sons, Keran and Ganek, eyed me questioningly. I gestured with my head that they were free to leave.
“If that son of a krillik won’t challenge me, I will,” Krygor muttered, eyeing Hagan as he exited my Hall.
“You will do no such thing, Krygor Aldriss. That worm’s blood is mine to spill,” I said.
“Careful, Ravik, my friend. The walls have ears,” Fenton said, a reproving expression on his face.
Despite his prominent Braxian forehead, strong brow, broad, flat nose, and square, jutting jaw, Fenton’s face held an odd softness that testified to his gentle nature. Although one would be foolish to interpret his kind disposition as a sign of weakness.
“Eavesdroppers are the least of the Magnar’s concerns,” Krygor said, with a grim look. “I fear a rebellion is brewing.”
Pattel recoiled. “Hagan wouldn’t dare!”
“He wouldn’t lead or organize it unless he felt confident he could get away with it,” I said, running my fingers through my long, black hair. “He’s a coward, but overly proud and greedy. He would join a rebellion, but I’d expect Clan Caldes or Clan Zotan to lead it.”
“You really think we’re on the verge of civil war?” Pattel asked, his brow creasing.
I shook my head. “No. Not a war, but definitely a coup or an assassination attempt.”
My gaze roamed over the light beige walls of my Hearing Hall, covered with the banners of the various clans populating Braxia—the Elder Clans’ banners at the top with their vassal clans beneath them. A few of them would fall before everything was said and done. The question was whose banners would fall, my enemies’ or mine?
“My clan has ruled Braxia for seven generations,” I said, my eyes boring into Pattel’s. “My father and his sire almost ran this planet into the ground, but I will mend it. Braxiawillchange. The clan leaders can plot all they want. I do not intend to fall. But should that happen, my sons will rise and see me avenged.”
“And so will we,” Krygor said.
“And so will we,” Pattel and Fenton echoed.
Chapter 1
Mercy
The heavy stares of the Guldans weighed on me. Ignoring them, I forced myself to walk at a casual pace through the busy streets of the financial district of Kenzenia, Guldar’s Capital City. High-tech prosthetics camouflaged the cheetah-like spots that graced my neck, arms, and legs in an elegant line. And yet, I felt as if the passersby could see right through them. If those markings—my Veredian heritage—became exposed, they would descend on me like vultures. Those who didn’t seek to sell me outright for insane profits would try to breed me to produce more like me.
To my knowledge, only two Veredian-Guldan hybrids existed throughout the known universe: my youngest sister’s adopted daughter Lenora and myself. Collectors would pay obscene amounts of credits for a rare being such as I. Should they further discover that, like all Veredians, I also possessed a unique psi ability, they would be even more rabid in their desire to possess me.
But they couldn’t see through my prosthetics. It was the absence of a male by my side to claim ownership over me that drew their stares. My collarless neck stated that I wasn’t a house-slave. As a Free Woman, I should have been escorted by my father, a brother, or a male relative if I wanted to go out on a stroll, or by a slave to carry whatever goods I was off to purchase, usually groceries.
While still very backwards in their ways, Guldans had started to evolve with some slight overtures towards female emancipation. Free Women could now legally walk the streets without a chaperon, but it still drew the unwanted type of attention. I had foolishly thought that, with Kenzenia being the most international sector of the planet, mentalities would have been more forward thinking.
Wrong.
I should have taken a hovercab instead of yielding to the sentimental urge to tread through the streets of my second home world: my father’s birth planet. He’d taken me to Guldar only three times, forced to hide me because of my mixed blood. This planet was as beautiful as its social values were ugly. Despite the many hostile male stares aimed at me, I reveled in the warmth of the sun on my face, the golden sky overhead shimmering while wispy clouds hung almost still around the fat, ghostly shape of our giant moon, Khora.
Tall, cigar-like buildings lined the eerily spotless streets of Kenzenia. Beige, black, and gold in color, their metal and glass surfaces reflected the dancing lights of the sky, giving the entire city the impression of heaving under shallow breaths.
A wealthy-looking male, maybe in his late thirties, placed himself directly in my path and tried to make eye-contact. Under different circumstances, I’d hold his gaze and give him a proper tongue-lashing. It took all of my willpower to cast my eyes down demurely and circle around him, giving him a wide-berth. Staring him down would have been deemed a challenge and opened the door for him to make further inquiries about my identity and whereabouts, or even to demand reparation for thatdisrespect. But being a Free Woman, he couldn’t accost me without cause or be accused of harassing another man’s property.
Property… Fuck that shit. No man would ever own me.
