30. Athena
Athena
The door slid shut behind him, and I was alone with the hum of the engines and my own sobs.
Hommler. My mind kept circling the name as the mysteries of my childhood clicked into place.
The way we’d packed up and left our old house so soon after my father had left.
How she’s never allowed me to ask about him or talk about our previous life.
The way she’d flinched at any knock on the door, even after we’d been in Kashara for years.
She’d claimed it was her nerves, and I’d believed her.
He’d left us, after all. I’d never suspected we might have been the ones who’d run.
My stomach heaved, and I barely made it to the archway before I was on my knees at the edge of the bathing pool, splashing handfuls of the warm water against my face.
I didn’t look up at the water cascading from the lip of the artificial rock wall and tried to ignore the fact that the same thing that had nearly drowned me the night before was now calming my churning gut.
The sobs dried in my throat as my shock morphed into anger. I was furious at my mother for never telling me, at the father who’d left, at some grandfather I'd never ever heard of, and most of all, at myself, for letting Lorken’s betrayal bring me to tears.
I hadn't asked to be his war bride. I’d never wanted to be taken onto his ship or brought to his quarters.
I'd only wanted to keep my friends safe.
But somewhere between him saving me from the water and pinning me on the furs, I'd felt an inkling of something.
Not love but not simply lust either. But none of that mattered now that he suspected me of being his sworn enemy and a saboteur on top of it all.
I splashed my face again until my breathing steadied and the roaring in my ears quieted a faint hum. I knew I wasn’t the Vandar’s enemy, and I knew I hadn’t done anything to their ship.
I sat back on my heels. If he wanted proof, I would give him proof. There had to be some way to show Lorken that I was the same woman who’d hidden Kolt and Skye from the Zagrath. The same woman who’d spent her life despising the Empire.
It couldn’t be so hard to defend myself, especially since I’d been nowhere near the munitions hold. Vallia or Lettie could vouch for me right before the explosion, but I had no clue when the sabotage had been carried out.
Then I remembered what Zarn had threatened, and I sat up straighter. If Lorken’s battle chief wanted to interrogate me, let him. I had nothing to hide. Let the battle chief see for himself that I was innocent. If Zarn himself couldn’t prove that I was guilty then Lorken would have to believe me.
I pushed to my feet before I could change my mind and dried my face briskly on one of the hanging towels.
With my heart hammering somewhere in my throat, I hurried from his quarters, grateful that he hadn’t locked me inside.
I retraced the path we'd taken from the munitions bay, fast walking down the winding corridors, across first one and then another swinging bridge, and down a flight of steel stairs into the warbird's yawning belly.
The only indication that I was getting closer was the smoke that began to sting my eyes.
I didn't make it all the way back to the wreckage before I spotted the Vandar battle chief. He strode alone across a narrower bridge that arced over the chasm, his tail lashing with restless fury as the leather strips of his kilt slapped his legs.
“Zarn!" I called, my voice was high but sure. I ran across the swinging bridge toward him, the chains creaking and swaying beneath my weight, and skidded to a stop in front of him.
His gaze was cold and assessing, but he showed no signs of being surprised by my presence.
“I didn’t sabotage your ship,” I said, tipping my head back to meet his eyes. “I promise I would never do anything to help the Empire and hurt the Vandar.”
His top lip curled in a sneer. “What are the promises of a Zagrath?”
Being called a Zagrath was a slap to the face, but I squared my shoulders against it. “Then I want to prove my innocence. I'll even do your oblek thing."
Satisfaction sparked in his dark eyes, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. Then his sneer stretched into a smile, and I had the sudden, sinking sense that I had just made a serious miscalculation.
He tilted his head and leaned closer to me. “You wish to come to my oblek willingly?”
So, an oblek was a place, not a thing. “What is an oblek exactly?”
"It's a Vandar battle chief's torture room."
The words sent ice sliding down my spine, and I understood, far too late, precisely what I'd volunteered to undergo in order to prove my innocence. But before I could open my mouth to take it back, Zarn had already clamped his hand around my arm.