Mastered by the Zandians (Zandian Brides 3)

“Try not to cause a fire.” She smiles to her friend.

Amber and Kianna. Both muscular, tall. And with cuff-free wrists, unlike me. A fact they remind me of as often as they can. At least a few times a planet rotation.

“Give it some more practice.” Amber smiles at my attempt and the spark that flashes out as I slip, letting the tool scratch the metal below. “You’ll get it…eventually.” She makes a sound. “What, it’s only been a few weeks, right? I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

“If you really want to, that is.” Her friend—Kianna—crosses her arms and frowns at me.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I put down the tool and stare at her.

“What do you think it means?” Kianna doesn’t back down. Instead, she comes closer, until we’re practically nose to nose. If we weren’t in this place, I think she’d want to fight me. And damn, but I think she’d be a good match. I’ve watched her walk, and I like the way she scans her environment. If we were back on Jesel, I’d take her on as a sparring partner immediately. Teach her everything I know.

She continues. “It means that if you try to mess anything up, you’ll deal with us, first, before you deal with the Zandians.”

I put up my hands. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

“Sure.” She rolls her eyes.

“What is your problem?” My voice goes up. “Have I done anything in the past few weeks that gives you cause to worry?”

“Well, other than the fact that you jeopardized a Zandian craft with two of our best warriors, interfered with a human rescue mission, and then somehow connived them into actually taking you as a mate?” Her eyebrows go up. “Not at all, Mirelle.”

“I just want to learn how to do this.” I wave my hand at the table, at the comm units, the random wires and pieces strewn across the table. “Use my skills. Help out here.”

“I bet you do. So, learn.” She nods to Amber. “Let’s go.” She turns back to me. “When we return, all three of us are taking a trip out to the quarry by the woods. We need more ore to smelt into mag-3.”

The two of them walk out, giggling to each other, leaning in like they’re sisters.

They never invite me to lunch with them, and I end up eating alone at my work station. I don’t know where they go. I never ask, and they don’t offer details.

I watch them go. Feel a pang in my chest at the way they’re so tight together. Then I take a deep breath and pick up the tool, and the sample comm unit, and the manual, which is full of tiny ciphers that make me squint and focus hard. They didn’t even ask if I could cipher when I first came. Either they assumed I could, or they hoped to embarrass me. Scare me away.

I don’t scare easily. And I can figure this out, even without help. I can cipher in several different languages. It’s what I’ve done all my life, and truth is, I generally work better alone anyway.

I bend forward. I’m at step one of a few thousand. I’ll just take it one minute at a time, and before I know it I’ll be at the finish line.

Mirelle

* * *

I glance left and right, then slide out my hand and grab the resistor pack. It's the work of a second to tuck it into my tunic.

This is the last piece I need, and then my own personal uni-scanner will be complete. And I don’t feel the slightest bit of guilt. It’s the only way I can find out what’s happening on Jesel.

I’m alone for the moment, and it’s risky, but I can’t resist. I pop the component into place and then hit the button. Scan. Hold my breath. My heart pounds so fast that I feel breathless.

A second later, images and ciphers scroll down the digiscreen, intercepts of non-hidden communications. Various languages and symbols, many of which I can’t make sense. The ones in Ocretion are mostly junk: Flight path data for craft landing on nearby planets, boring tower data.

But tears come to my eyes when I see it, because this is my link. Now I'm connected to the universe with my fingertips. I can see what’s happening beyond Zandia. No longer a pure prisoner, I can at least know what’s happening beyond my gilded cage.

I put a hand to my mouth as the symbols dance and flow, rows of 1s and 0s, then Occ ciphers, then squiggles that might be Mayorian. I’m in.

“I’m coming back, Iselle,” I whisper, touching the flame at my neck. “I’m coming.”

Domm

* * *

“Do you want to visit Alanna and Cassie, the humans you tried to steal from Archer?”