Behind her back, Marco sat at his desk, putting the final touches to a report—his last as governor of Tagra.
The planet had circled the primary sun twice since she’d arrived on the penal colony. The length of her stay was not determined by her custodial sentence but by her own choice.
After Dr. Han’s abduction of her, the doctor had been recalled to Halos. There were no repercussions following Marco’s intervention. No reprimand or demands for Freya to be handed back to the alien health division. From that day on, she’d lived in a state of limbo. No longer his jenjin, but neither had she ceased being a prisoner. When in the residence, she acted as if she was Marco’s wife. She ensured his time there was his to enjoy and that he was content. His promise to love her and cherish her remained unbroken. However, for the duration of that time, she hadn’t been allowed out without his permission or without the protection of an escort. She hid her frustration. It wasn’t his fault she was a prisoner.
If she had bent his rules, her ass paid for it with a thorough spanking. She didn’t mind that he maintained her role as his submissive companion. For some reason, probably because she’d come to find comfort in the role, she’d not forgotten what she’d been taught in the jenjin. She performed her rituals, continued to meditate and practice her harp, and much to Marco’s ongoing delight even pole dance. Those things helped her adapt to her strange life.
Then, the fateful day had arrived when Tagra had nearly completed another passage around the sun. Her father made contact via Hadro. Seeing the video of her mother and father sitting side by side had brought both joy and sadness to Freya. The dark shadows under their sorrow-filled eyes and their hands clasped together as if to hold in their pain was a crippling display of their grief. The joy came from news that Tony had been arrested—her father spoke with relish as he described the man’s downfall. The Earth’s defense council had confirmed his deceitful actions.
From that point on, not only had she the support of the Eagle Network, but also the willpower of the EDC. The Free Freya campaign had joined together the nations of Earth into one voice. The Vendu couldn’t ignore them. However, progress toward her release would be slow, Marco had warned her back then. She’d watched the video a few times until he’d told her not to, because it made her too homesick.
He’d distracted her with projects. He allowed her to help with the production of a play—a comedy that suited the tastes of many of the prisoners, as it included slapstick and wit. The script had been written on the paper produced in the old factory. She’d taken the opportunity to catch up with Jean and Abby, pleased to find them in good health and spirits. They’d joined a dance troupe. Generally, the atmosphere in the canyon was good-natured and less violent. Although the factions still managed to make trouble from time to time, it seemed to Freya that the prisoners had some hope in their lives.
Hope had been something Freya had nearly lost, and then regained when Marco opened his heart to her. If it weren’t for his connections back on Halos, she’d never be free.
Marco’s mother had worked a miracle. Freya wished she could meet her and thank her in person, but the opportunity had never transpired. Marco’s dream of visiting Halos remained unfulfilled. Too risky, he’d tell her. Who knew what might happen to Freya if he took her there.
When the judgment arrived on Tagra, informing Freya her sentence for spying had been quashed, and that her time in the penal colony was sufficient penance for illicit filming, she’d nearly collapsed into a faint. The relief and joy merged into an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.
Marco had supported her in his arms and she’d heard the unfamiliar pounding of his concerned heartbeats. Although pleased for her, she’d known that he feared the day of her departure. His tenure on Tagra was not complete.
It had been an easy decision to make. “I’m not going home,” she’d announced.
The man was honest enough not to lie about his feelings. He hadn’t told her to reconsider, nor had he pleaded for her to go back on the basis of a false claim of self-sacrifice. He needed her still. Instead, he threw a party to celebrate her new status as his unfettered companion. Lalita had joined the celebrations, along with a few jenjins, Gellis and Jophran—who now had a job in the city, allowing them to reside together—and her good friend and loyal maid, Tally.
After Marco had removed Freya from the Volta, she’d dreaded that Lalita might despise her. But contrary to her fears, the overseer accepted the situation with little argument. According to Marco, she might envy Freya’s special status, but her natural dignity prevented her from showing any signs of jealousy or bitterness. The emperor had let Lalita go because she’d passed out of favor. The same would never be true for Freya.
“I love you,” Marco would end each day whispering it into Freya’s ear before she fell asleep in his arms.
That love would be the role model for future negotiations between Earthlings and the Vendu, he’d declared. Barriers would come down, borders would open, and diplomacy would replace aggression. More important for Freya, terraforming had been offered freely to Earth. The opening gambit had paid off. Negotiations for a new treaty had started.
“Do you really think it will happen? Our two species co-existing, interbreeding?” she’d asked Marco one evening.
He’d shrugged. “It helps that a new planet has been discovered that looks promising. Uninhabited by humanoids and barely needing terraforming, it could serve as somewhere for both humans and Vendu to populate and raise their children uninhibited by prejudice. Lucilla’s people too, if they wish. However, it will take time to establish. A long time.”
“Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Freya remembered his bemused expression at her remark.
“I don’t think many things are built in a day,” he’d responded with furrowed eyebrows.
“Never mind, sir. You’ll have to learn all these idioms once you arrive on Earth.”
She turned away from the vast window in his office and rested her hands on his shoulders.
“There,” he said, swiping the screen into darkness. “My last act as governor of Tagra.” He looped his arm around her waist and she slid onto his lap.
“It’s a good day,” she remarked.
“Tomorrow we’ll begin the journey to Earth. I’m looking forward to meeting your parents. Seeing Geneva.”
“We’ll be quite the couple. I’m not sure I’m going to like all the media attention. There’s bound to be those who’ll think I’m a traitor and deserve—”
Marco pressed his finger to her lips. “Yes, and on my side too. It won’t alter the course of things. I can prove to them that the Vendu can change.” He stroked her cheek, releasing her mouth for him to kiss. He slid his other hand underneath her bottom and squeezed her ass cheek.
She winced, as the previous day she’d earned a punishment for losing her temper over a trivial matter. She blamed nerves at the impending departure, but he’d decided the cure was a good hard spanking.
“I think we should keep quiet about the exact nature of our relationship,” she suggested.
He smirked. “They don’t take to spanking on Earth?”