Chapter 5 #2
“No! I’m not going back there.” June panics and tries to shove her way past the guards, but they grab hold of her arms and pin her in place. Her wild eyes meet mine. “They’ll kill me.”
Could June truly be a murderer? I don’t know much about her past, but when I offered her the job, she did say that she’d be in trouble if the authorities of her former planet discovered her whereabouts.
Executed. June.
Sweet June who smells of berries, and who spins my son around in a tight circle with his feet floating behind him each night before tucking him into bed because, according to him, “It makes me catch sleep more quicker.” Sweet June, who sends my heart into a frenzy with only a smile.
This woman has brought nothing but joy into my home, and the thought of her being taken away from us, of being––my entire body shudders––removed from existence, it’s unthinkable.
Which is the more likely scenario? That June, a female with weak human bones is capable of avoiding capture after assassinating a mighty king.
Or that a king drunk with power, a serial abuser of his family members, died under mysterious circumstances and his minions are trying to pin it all on a former slave––the person the public won’t care about.
Coming from an abusive royal family of my own, and being denied their love and support until the day they banished me from my home planet, I find the latter much more plausible.
Frankly, even if June did kill the king, I don’t think it would change my opinion of her.
If he was as abusive as she says, he deserved a torturous, miserable journey to his final rest.
“Are you unaware of our extradition process, Lord Forchan?” The chancellor asks, a hint of a challenge in her voice. “It’s very laborious, and no amount of signed papers from your government will be able to expedite it, I’m afraid.”
His expression twists with impatience. “What does that mean?”
“If a newly settled refugee is mated to an established resident, you can’t simply arrest them and take them with you. There’s a two-part test that must be administered to determine the strength and validity of the match.”
Test? I don’t like the sound of that. I was a gifted student in my day, but only because I read the teacher’s mind whenever I needed to record the correct answers to a test. There wasn’t much knowledge that I actually retained. Besides, June and I aren’t mates, so failing is a certainty.
“The first part of the test must be given at least one full moon cycle after their mating date,” she explains.
“The second part at least two moon cycles after that. I have the steps explained in detail back at my office, if you’d like to see them.
I’m required to be present at both of these events, to ensure fairness on behalf of my residents. ”
“But––” June says, but she stops when Lord Forchan throws up his stick-like arms in exasperation.
“Three moon cycles? That’s absurd. I can’t remain on this hideous scrap of land with my guards for that long. I have business to conduct on Etirinu.”
The chancellor shows no indication of caring about his plight. I try to peek inside her mind, but there’s nothing. I’ve tried reading her mind before, and even then, nothing. It’s like she had some kind of block protecting her thoughts.
“Do you have proof?” she asks.
“Proof?” he repeats.
“Yes, proof. Proof that June is the one who committed this crime you speak of?”
He turns to the guards, briefly looking between them before his shoulders droop in defeat.
“Not at this time, but we have an entire investigative committee looking into this matter and testing the blood and hair found at the scene of the king’s death.
” His glare turns vicious as he trains it on June.
“She will be revealed as the king’s assassin. I have no doubt about it.”
The chancellor remains unbothered, so much so that she chuckles in response. “It’s settled then. If you have no proof, you must unhand Juniper Townsend immediately.”
The guards wait to release June until Lord Forchan gives them a nod.
“Come,” the chancellor says. “We can discuss specifics of the test back at my office.”
The lord and his orange idiot underlings take a step to follow the chancellor, until he throws his hands up in protest. “Wait! If you demand proof that she’s a murderer before I can apprehend her, then I demand proof these two are actually mated before I agree to stand down.”
Ficq.
“On the Isle of Many, the requirement to become a mated pair is the exchange of devoted declarations to one another.” The chancellor turns to face me, and she positions herself conveniently so that her back is to Lord Forchan.
Her expression is pleading as she asks the following question.
“Zivren, you remember your Mating Day, I trust?”
It’s clear she wants me to go along with this, but I have no idea why. Slowly, I nod, realizing the gravity of what I’m about to do.
June pipes in with, “What?” the same time I say, “Yes.”
I stride toward her, my mate, I suppose, and pull her against me. I guide her away from the orange idiots and closer to the house.
“Yes,” I repeat, clearing my throat. “June is my mate.” I tuck her into my side, my front arms wrapped around her, one of my back hands awkwardly petting her hair as I try to sell this lie.
“We had a splendid Mating Day.” For some reason, my voice is getting louder with each word, and I can’t seem to stop myself.
“Positively bursting with passion. Much like a,” I search for the right analogy even though I regret the previous sentence.
What am I saying? “Like a…” Like a what?
What else bursts? No matter what I choose, it won’t make any sense. “Like a bowl of cream.”
A ficqing bowl of cream? Really?
June looks up at me like I’ve grown a third set of arms, and I can’t do anything but nod proudly at my choice of words as if it makes perfect sense.
The chancellor’s eyes are narrowed with pity, but she recovers before the lord notices. “Right. Well, let us return to my office, Lord Forchan, and I can go over the testing requirements with you.”
The lord tosses us a look of sheer contempt before trotting along behind the chancellor and disappearing from sight.
June pulls out of my embrace and crosses her arms over her chest once we’re alone. “What the hell just happened?”
An excellent question. If only I had an answer.