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Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

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Lanz

* * *

Despite the fact that our little human surrendered to us sexually, I’m not foolish enough to believe she’s truly reconciled to laying down her sword and living on Zandia. We saw her skills in deception back on our ship. The female is cunning and clever.

I believe she will continue to feign acceptance before our king, but I can’t be sure. My fingers squeeze into fists as we enter the throne room. Truly, if Zander finds fault with her and throws her in a dungeon, he may have to throw me there, too.

We step into

the newly rebuilt Great Hall, modeled after the ancient one in the original Palace of Zander. The new hall is a mixture of the old and high-tech. King Zander sits on the throne—a role he’s always hated because he’s more warrior than king.

“Is this the human in question?” Our king regards Mirelle with an even countenance. His sword edge gleams in the light like a laser, his quiet power coming not from pomp, but from the fierce nobility of our species.

Mirelle tenses between us.

“Yes, my lord. This is Mirelle.” I squeeze her hand, which is cold and limp in mine.

“Step forward,” the king commands.

Her legs appear unsteady, but she shakes off our assistance and steps forward, gaze even.

“Curtsy,” Domm murmurs.

She hesitates a beat, long enough for my gut to twist, but then drops into an exaggerated dip.

Oh, veck. King Zander will see through her submissive little human who’s entirely grateful to be here act in a moment. He’s no fool, and with a human mate, has first-hand experience with their deceit.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” King Zander gazes at her, his eyes cool and assessing.

She draws a deep breath. “My name is Mirelle and I’m a human freedom fighter.”

Oh, for veck’s sake! I don’t move from my warrior’s stance of respect, but I want to slap my forehead.

We made her practice more than once in the hallway the appropriate thing to say.

“Thank you for the medical care. It saved my life.” She touches her shoulder.

Better. But probably too little, too late. Sweat beads around my horns as I watch our king’s face for signs of his displeasure. Of course, he rarely shows much, so I find nothing there.

“Explain how you came to steal Zandian property and causing a near-deadly altercation with Ocretion pirates.”

Mirelle shifts on her feet.

“I have spent my life rescuing humans. I did not mean to cause harm or damage to the Zandian fleet or citizens. I was merely executing the missions that make up my life’s work.”

“And how many have you rescued?”

“Fifty-seven, my lord.” She lifts her chin. “Forty-nine men and six women. Two children.”

“And where are they now?”

“Jesel.” Her gaze falters, fingers pick at her tunic.

“Jesel. Where they are all completely safe?” King Zander knows that would be highly unlikely.

She sucks in a breath. “Some were taken back by the Ocretions. They raided this solar cycle.”

“And how many are left?”



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