Chapter 9 Jasmine
Jasmine
The raider ship banked and rolled through space, and I was buffeted between massive warriors who clung to bars too high for me to comfortably reach, their movements synchronized and easy while I struggled to maintain my balance.
The only thing that kept me from falling was the huge hand circling my waist.
His grip wasn’t tight. It was just enough to keep me steady and just enough to remind me that I now belonged to him.
Even though he stood behind me, the heat of his body was nothing compared to the weight of his gaze on me.
I didn’t need to turn to know he was watching me.
I could feel him, just like I’d felt his gaze on me during the assembly.
The ship banked again, and he steadied me, his hands warm through the fabric of my dress and gentle despite their size and obvious power. The word "thank you" was halfway to my lips before I remembered.
He was the reason I'd had to leave my sisters and my home. He was the reason I was on this ship, being carried away into a future I hadn't chosen, to serve as some kind of living insurance policy for an alliance I'd had no voice in negotiating.
I pressed my lips together hard, swallowing the gratitude and squaring my shoulders. If I could have shaken him off, I would have.
Don’t piss him off, Jasmine.
Despite snapping at him when I’d arrived at the transport—a momentary lapse in good judgment—I was very aware that I was at the mercy of a Vandar much bigger and much scarier than me.
It also wasn’t lost on me that he’d shown mercy to my friends when he could have done much worse than disarming them and sending them away.
Thinking of Skye and Meg and Zara coming after me armed with blasters we’d stolen from imperial soldiers over the years made my chest swell with pride.
For rebels that dwelled mostly in shadows and cover of darkness, they’d been incredibly brave.
Of course, it never would have succeeded.
Not against the Vandar. But the fact that they’d tried made tears burn the backs of my eyelids.
Knowing that my friends cared enough to risk everything for me somehow made going with the Vandar easier. I had also meant what I’d said. I would see them again. I didn’t know how, but I would get back to them and my sisters.
The transport passed through an energy field and then we were inside a massive ship.
Correction, a Vandar warbird. I’d heard whispers about the cavernous ships that appeared to outsiders like a tangle of walkways and bridges and floating stairs, but I’d never believed such a thing could be real.
Now that I was peering out the transport’s glass at a web of dark metal that stretched up farther than I could see, I realized that the stories had been true. And none of them had been exaggerated.
We touched down with a thud that rattled my teeth, and then everyone was moving toward the lowering ramp. The Raas guided me forward without a word, and I walked beside him off the smaller ship and onto a significantly larger one.
Even though I’d gotten a glance from inside the transport, now I tipped my head back to take in what was something plucked from a fever dream.
Open space towered overhead in a massive cylindrical shape, so vast I couldn't see the far end.
The crisscrossing walkways, hanging bridges, and floating staircases were a web that echoed with deep shouts and the thundering of boots.
Everything was harsh and huge and overwhelming. It was nothing like the quiet bakery or the simple homes of the colony, and for the first time since I’d decided to defy the Vandar, my courage wavered.
This wasn't a ship. This was a flying war machine combined with a city. There were warriors everywhere I looked, all of them massive and armed, with technology I didn't understand. How was I supposed to fight against this?
My knees wobbled. The brave face I'd been maintaining since the lottery started to waver, and the desire to go home slammed into me so hard I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.
I wanted my bakery. My sisters. My small, cold, familiar room where I knew every crack in the walls and every muffled creak from the stairs. I wanted to be anywhere but here.
The Raas stopped walking, and I nearly collided with his back, catching myself at the last second.
He turned, those golden eyes finding mine immediately, and I tried hard to be stoic again, lifting my chin and gritting my teeth.
But his gaze seemed to peer straight into my soul, and just for a beat, my chin quivered.
Just once, and just for a second, but it was enough.
I cursed myself inwardly, but the Raas's expression didn't change.
He didn't smirk or look satisfied or show any sign that he'd noticed my momentary weakness.
He simply flicked his gaze to one of the officers standing nearby. “Take her to my quarters.”
My heart stopped. His quarters? Then I remembered the part of the lottery I’d barely paid attention to. War bride.
My pulse kicked into overdrive, and every instinct I had screamed at me to do something other than meekly follow some warrior to the Raas's private quarters like, like what? Like the war bride they'd called me? Like the payment the colonial leaders had agreed to?
Besides, there was nowhere to run. I was on a ship in space. Running or struggling would accomplish nothing but make me look weak and scared. Even if that's exactly what I was.
I dug deep, summoning some of the courage my friends had shown when they’d tried to rescue me, and I steadied my breath. I might not have a blaster, but I could be brave and show them I wasn’t intimidated. Even if I definitely was.
The Vandar officer nodded at his orders and moved toward me. I flinched and moved back before I could stop myself.
The Raas's tail flicked, the only sign that he'd noticed my reaction. Then he was already walking away, his voice carrying as he called over his shoulder. "I prefer to debrief our guest over dinner in my quarters."
And then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the massive ship, leaving me standing there with his officer.
Dinner in his quarters. The word "guest" echoed in my mind with bitter irony. Guests could leave. Guests had a choice about where they stayed and who they spent time with. I was a hostage dressed up in honorable language.
The officer gestured for me to follow him, which I did because I had no choice.
But as we walked up winding steel steps and across swinging metal bridges, my chin stopped quivering, and my spine straightened.
The fear was still there, and I wasn't foolish enough to pretend it wasn’t, but I cloaked it in anger and defiance and determination.
The Raas wanted dinner? Fine. I'd give the frostbitten prick dinner.
But I'd also give him exactly what I'd promised at the transport ramp. If he wanted a guest, he was going to be sorely disappointed. If he wanted a bride, he was going to learn that some things couldn't be taken, only given.
And I would never, ever give him anything willingly.