His Broken Human (Alien Overlords 2)

“I owe you an apology. The human told me that she was not being beaten.”

“Quite alright, sire. If she had not fallen, she would have been. She is impertinent and deceitful.”

“Is that so?”

I have not found her to be either of those things. It is interesting that Tyvian seems to have taken such a dislike to her, given that he is usually very kindly toward humans. She has been most forthcoming, above what I would have expected, even under torture. And as for impertinent, she has flashes of humor which never rise to the bar of rudeness.

“In my experience, yes, sire. You would do well to be careful of what she says. Remember, she was instrumental in the escape of the traitor Rath K’zar.”

“I am careful of what everybody says, Tyvian. Especially when they appear to have an agenda at play.”

Tyvian bows his head, a gesture of submission which really only serves to hide his eyes. I have never suspected Tyvian before.

I do now.

He just made the mistake of telling me that Rath K’zar escaped. I was led to believe that the traitor was buried beneath the palace in the recent explosion. Rath K’zar should be a fine paste between boulders night now. But Tyvian used the word ‘escape.’ Interesting. Fuzkin’ interesting.

Four

Krush

A day goes by, and then another. There is much to consider, and I need not hurry. If Rath K’zar has escaped, he has not done so simply to rush back into the city. It is better for all concerned if I continue to pretend that I have been taken in by the conspiracy which has evidently hatched directly beneath my nose.

I focus my attention on the girl instead. She is an easy captive to keep. She sleeps quite contentedly in the cage at the foot of my bed. It would seem that that golden-barred enclosure is more comfortable than any bed she has had the fortune to sleep in before. She has lived a life of extreme deprivation, a fact which confronts me every time she reacts to some simple thing.

“Out,” I say, unlocking her cage. “It is time to eat.”

She emerges unsteadily, a look of surprise on her face. I pick her up and sit her on my bed, next to the tray that the servants have recently brought. I wonder for a brief moment if I need to be careful about the food. My father appears to have been assassinated. There is no reason I could not be as well.

“Food again?”

“It is breakfast. We eat it daily.”

“Wow," she breathes. “A meal every day.”

“Three meals every day.”

She laughs at me as if I must be joking, and then her eyes widen from the realization that I am not. She considers eating to a basic level an act of wild, opulent extravagance, and that makes my heart ache.

“Eat all you like,” I say, nudging the plate of fruits and breads toward her.

She falls on it like a beast on its prey. I watch as she devours an entire korabi breakfast in a fraction of the time it would have taken to concoct the thing. It is satisfying to watch her eat, and to look after her. It feels good to see her growing stronger. An extra layer or two of flesh will change her, no doubt. Not merely in appearance, but in manner as well. An animal who has always relied on its wits to survive might not know how to be captive when it has its energies back.

Feeding time is a good time to think. I have much to consider. Tyvian should probably be removed from his post, but it has to be done in a manner that does not make him suspicious. I should be removing everybody who held an office of power when my father died, really. I kept them because I considered his death an act of human terror, but I am no longer so sure.

Before I can decide what to do with the knowledge of Rath K’zar’s alleged escape, I am assailed by wretched duty.

“It is time, Krush.”

I smell Tusk before I see him. He wears the pelts of fallen animals not of this planet. There is a constant scent emitting from them, a temptation to decay denied by preservation.

He sweeps into my chambers without being invited, his dark hair braided in three thick strands, one over the top, and two down the sides, all tied to the back. He has a golden staff in his hand, topped with the head of some scaled creature with slitted eyes and scales. Tusk carries with him an aura of threat and mystery at all times. He is the keeper of ancient secrets, and he was my father’s shaman. I suppose he is now mine. He was also the keeper of my father’s harem.

He is far older than my father was, not that age shows on korabi until we are ready to die. Our biology is static in ways that make us the envy of creatures with lesser DNA, like humans.