Her chest tightened with an ache she hadn’t felt in years—the sting of losing her father and the rest of her family. She’d give anything to see just one of them right now.
The Zandian had woken that homesickness in her. He’d ruined her for any other destiny. And while she regretted leaving him behind—not waiting to ensure he got out safely—at least he’d strengthened her resolve and given her the means to achieve her goal.
“We’re in Ocretian airspace. Where to now, beautiful?”
She shifted on her feet. This part she didn’t know. “I-I’m looking for a pod docked in the airspace here.”
“Let me guess, it’s full of beings who look like you?”
Hope quickened. “Have you seen a being like me before?”
The Stornigian smirked. “I’ve seen a few. I know where their pod is.” He lifted his chin at a large floating structure in front of them. “Doubt they’ll let me dock without an invitation, though.”
She frowned. “Take off your tunic.”
He grinned and twisted to look over his shoulder at her. “So we’re doing this now?”
She glared, but the merriment in his eyes said he only teased. She waved the laser gun. “Now.”
He started to pull the tunic off too quickly, and she jerked the gun level to his head. “Easy, beautiful. I’m just doing what you asked me to.”
She nodded, once. He moved more slowly this time as he removed the tunic and held it out to her. She gripped it, unsure how to put it on without lowering the gun or shifting her gaze from her prisoner.
“I’d offer to turn my back for you to get dressed, but I think I’ve already seen everything you have,” he drawled, letting his eyes drift lower. Despite, the taunt, he did turn back to the controls.
She took a step back and pulled the tunic over her head with one arm, keeping the gun trained with the other. With a little struggle, she wriggled one arm through the hole then switched the gun to the other hand and donned the other sleeve. She unbuckled the stupid pet collar she’d worn and dropped it on the floor. “All right. Call them.”
He flicked on the comms unit. “I don’t know their channel, but if I fly close enough, I expect they’ll hail me.”
Stars, she hoped he wasn’t tricking her. She tossed the strange bit of jewelry she’d taken from the Zandian onto the control panel. “That’s for you.”
“I’ll take the ring, too.” His teasing drawl was gone, replaced by a note of sharpness. In fact, he seemed far less drunk than he had when they left Aurelia.
She pinched her lips together. If he was, in fact, bringing her to the Zandian pod, she’d have no need for the expensive crystal. Surely, they would take care of her. If he wasn’t, that meant he probably had a plan to overpower her, anyway, and could take the treasure himself. Wouldn’t it be better to hand it over and established a little good will? He had enabled her escape, after all.
She unscrewed the ring from her thumb and dropped it on the control panel, too.
Both treasures immediately disappeared into his pocket.
An image flickered on the comms screen, and she nearly wept with relief. Zandians. Three of them, dressed as royal guards, broad-chested and proud, gazed out at them. “Identify yourself immediately,” one of them barked.
Her prisoner fiddled with the comms unit, adjusting the color of the picture before them, bringing the flickering image into focus. “They can’t see you. My lens is broken. Identify yourself.”
Her throat went dry. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“I repeat, identify yourself immediately.”
She answered in Zandian. “My name is Taramina. Daughter of Seke, who was Master of Arms to King Zander.”
The guards looked at each other. The one who had spoken gave a low order to another, who disappeared. “Hold your position,” he said curtly in Ocretion. “Do not fly any closer without authorization.”
“Understood,” her prisoner muttered.
Damn. What did it mean? Did they not believe her? Perhaps they were finding someone to verify if Seke was a made-up name.
She waited without breathing for what felt like forever. Then the missing guard reappeared with—oh stars—could it be?
“Papa?” Her voice choked with tears, eyes filled.