Claimed by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 6)

“I… I don’t have a valid reason,” I admit. My face is as hot as it's ever been. “I allowed myself to be distracted by her company. She is not a technical fit. I will cut her immediately from the training program.”

“It’s a little late for that.” His voice is wry.

“We will run a post-mortem.” I wince. “I hold blame for training an inappropriate subject. We also clearly need better checks and balances in place for any being who attempts to enter the pod. Better authorization.”

“Clearly.” Master Seke sighs. “Estimate of how long it will take to fix this?”

The tech is at our side. “At a lunar cycle, give or take. But I do have to say that the escape pod worked phenomenally.” He’s bursting with energy and his eyes snap with excitement. “I never thought we’d get to use it this early, but it’s perfect. I couldn’t have designed it better.”

Master Seke narrows his eyes. “And I take it you’re responsible for leaving the escape ejection pod activated?”

“Well”—his face looks as hot as mine feels—“I was only going to test it out, you know, later on. With permission. Once we had more pods up and running. With an expert nav. But Yes.” He clears his throat. “I did have it activated. When I should not have had it activated. Or even in existence. Ahem.”

He falters as he looks at Master Seke’s expression. Clearly, I’m not the only one feeling a share of the guilt.

“Schedule the post-mortem meeting. I want the two of you there, as well as Captain Drayk. We’ll figure out how to fix this.” Master Seke shakes his head, then gestures toward the closed door. “Any word on Zina?”

My gut, already tight, squeezes. “Not yet,” I say tersely. I don’t like how long it’s taking, either.

“Let me know,” Master Seke says, and departs with the tech.

After what feels like an eternity, Dr. Daneth opens the door and invites me in. “She’s uninjured. Anxiety levels are high, but there’s no breakage, bruising or internal organ affectation.”

“That’s great.” Somehow, I have a feeling there’s something more, though. Maybe because my sensors report he’s staring at me with eyes narrowed, like he’s contemplating me.

“She is pregnant, however. Do you know who might have bred this human without dispensation or permission?”

Zina scrambles up to a seated position. “Wh-what?”

Ice sluices through my veins.

“That’s not possible,” I manage to say through numb lips. “She’s sterile.”

“I removed the sterility device last week. Are you responsible for breeding her?”

“I… yes,” I manage. “But—”

“Apparently her reproductive system was strong enough she required no recovery time, although the hormones that were in the device could be dangerous to the infant. I’ll want to check hormone levels daily to be sure the pregnancy progresses and the embryo remains healthy.”

Dangerous to the infant.

Memories of my father berating me for causing my mother’s death come flooding in. I stumble back.

No.

This can’t be happening. I wasn’t supposed to sire any young. Ever. My condition might be passed along. Zina could die from the pregnancy. My young could be born blind, like me.

A dark rage, one I’ve held since childhood explodes out of me.

I whirl on Zina. “Why didn’t you tell me the device had been removed?” I boom.

“That’s enough,” Dr. Daneth snaps from across the lab. He’s my superior—a royal advisor—but I don’t care.

“Why didn’t you? Did you want to trick me?”

I scent her tears before my sensors note lacrimation. Her lips tremble. “Of course not,” she whispers. “I-I didn’t know—”

All I hear is the thudding of my heart. The crushing blackness of being born defective. The rage against the unfairness of it all.