The warrior shifted Solo into the crook of one elbow and dropped a meaty hand on her shoulder. He propelled her toward the door. If only, she thought she heard him mutter.
“I’m sorry?”
“Call me Granit,” he said.
She managed a small smile. “Granit,” she repeated. “Thank you.”
She ignored the tingles of warmth the warrior inspired. This was no time to think about males. She was headed to see the Prince, to hear his determination of her fate. Would he punish her for the part she’d played in Talia’s brief capture? And what would he do with her former mates?
“D-do you know what’s going to happen to me?” she dared ask as Granit led her briskly down the corridor.
“I don’t. But Prince Zander is a fair ruler. I trust he will make a wise decision, as always.”
A knot twisted in her solar plexus. During her incarceration the past two planet rotations, she’d rehearsed a hundred different pleas and excuses. She hadn’t known what her mates planned, she didn’t have a choice—that one was mostly true. Her mates wouldn’t have hesitated to beat her senseless if she’d tried to interfere. But she wasn’t an idiot. She could have tried to warn Talia or Tomis, could have done something—anything to come to their aid. But she hadn’t. Worse, she’d wickedly been glad they’d gone after another female, so she wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of their debilitating attention any longer.
It was wrong and she deserved whatever punishment Prince Zander believed necessary—unless it involved removing her young from her. She’d fight that sentence tooth and nail. As they rounded a corner, she wished to take her infant back simply to have something to do with her hands, something warm and soft to clutch to ease her anxiety. Something to show she was a good mother, deserving of keeping her young with her. But she was afraid to ask.
How had Zandians dealt with lawbreakers? She wished she could remember, but she’d been too young when their society had been extinguished. Would her other children be present at her hearing? She hoped not. She didn’t want them to fear for her.
Granit brought her into a grand hall, lit with crystal-embedded skylights and filled with living plants and trees. She’d spent her entire life surrounded by the natural beauty of Zandia, but the palatial pod awed her with its high-tech opulence.
On a raised dais on a marble throne, sat the prince.
She scanned the room through tear-filled eyes but didn’t see her children amongst the crowd, nor did she see her ex-mates. Thank the stars.
Silence fell at her arrival. The beings present—all Zandian, save the human females who served as mates to the most important Zandians—stared at her. The sight of Talia and Tomis made her chest tighten. Though Talia had told her they were the only two Zandian females, another stood beside her—a small, pretty Zandian female with reddish-blonde hair. So another had been found. Maybe they wouldn’t think Eslyn’s existence was quite so precious now. Of course, they only cared about her ability to breed, anyway.
Which she could do from a prison cell.
Just let me keep my young.
Granit nudged her forward and she approached the throne, drawing as close as she dared and dropping to her knees. No excuses. She’d plead guilty. She just hoped he’d have mercy on her.
For what felt like endless minutes, Zander remained silent. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Didn’t dare lift her eyes.
“Eslyn. Rise and face me,” he said at last.
She stood on wobbly knees and curtsied. “My lord.”
~.~
Damon sidled up beside Granit, who held the female’s infant. At least ten servants and two of the human females had offered to take the baby off Granit’s hands, but his friend had refused. And no one argued with a male Granit’s size.
“She’s afraid,” Damon murmured to the male who’d been like a brother to him since their escape from the Finnian invasion.
“I tried to calm her, but I’m not the sort a female finds com
fort in.” Granit grimaced. Between his huge size and the burn marks on his face, arm and leg, Granit made an imposing warrior.
“At least the infant doesn’t mind you.”
Granit smiled down at the tiny young, who cooed and gurgled back. “No, he hasn’t learned ugly yet.”
Laake, the third in their bloodless brotherhood, appeared on Granit’s other side and reached for the baby. Granit appeared reluctant, but gave the child up.
Damn. He’d been angling for a turn. But Granit always had had a soft spot for Laake, who he’d once risked his life, and sacrificed his good looks, to save.
He, Damon, and Laake, had been assigned to watch the female’s room since she’d arrived two planet rotations earlier. An honor they’d relished. He’d beaten off four times between shifts imagining all the dirty things he’d like to do to that gorgeous female.