“We won’t… You can’t make us,” Navan growled, his veins pulsing black beneath his skin.
Aurelius shrugged. “You are partially correct, Navan—we cannot make you do as we have asked.” He flashed me a pointed look that made my skin crawl. “Anyway, we thought you’d prefer this to the alternative.”
“Alternative?” I rasped, still barely able to speak.
“Yes, the alternative was to capture female specimens from Earth and force one of them to have a child. The specifics of insemination were not entirely clear, but we would have figured something out. Some of the soldiers out here are getting a little bored, after all,” he explained, though he seemed physically repulsed by the idea of coldbloods sullying themselves like that.
I fell silent, unable to believe what I was hearing. They’d brought me and Navan here to produce a half-breed child? I didn’t even know if it was possible. The thought of its blood being used to create such a terrible elixir made me pray it wasn’t.
“That’s what I thought,” Ezra said sharply. “This way is much better, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t even look at him. Instead, I clung to Navan’s arm, gripping him with all the strength I had left. If I didn’t hold on to something, or someone, I was going to keel over. Now, more than ever, I wasn’t too eager to end up unconscious in front of these two bastards.
Navan shook his head at Ezra, holding me tight. “This is disgusting, even for you.”
“No, I think it is fitting,” Aurelius replied. “You interfered with my happiness once, trying to stand in the way of me and my beloved, and now you will suffer as I have suffered. Your child will bring about the glory of the Vysanthean race, but only you two will pay a price for it.”
“There’s nothing happy about what you did. She didn’t want to marry you, but you weaseled your way into Gianne’s good books,” I snapped, the memory of Seraphina restoring some of my failing courage. “You broke into that church like a desperate, spoiled little kid and ended up marrying her on a technicality. It’s pathetic!”
Ezra snorted. “Is that true?”
“You shut your mouth!” Aurelius glared at me. “No, of course it isn’t true. More insidious lies, that is all.”
“Oh, yeah? Then where is your ‘besotted’ wife now? If I know her, she’ll have run as fast and as far away from you as possible! I bet she’d rather live in exile, with a sentence hanging over her head, than spend another moment with you!”
Ezra smirked again, folding his arms across his chest as he directed an unimpressed glance toward his partner. Aurelius saw it, and instantly trembled with rage. I was embarrassing him in front of his new boss, and he didn’t like it one bit. After all, there was no way that these two would ever be equals, no matter what Aurelius believed. If it served their needs, each one would sell the other down the river, given half a chance.
“Actually, she is at home, gestating our child,” Aurelius said petulantly. “Soon enough, you will be joining her, gestating a child of your own. I look forward to watching the pain it brings you, when I take it from your arms, never to be returned to you again.”
Ezra laughed, giving Aurelius a shove in the arm. “Why do you always have to be so overdramatic?” he taunted him. “Be grateful we only have to go through this process once.”
“You only need one child?” Navan glowered at Ezra. “You expect us to believe that? How is one child supposed to provide the ingredient required for a whole nation of coldbloods?”
“Thank your uncle,” Ezra said. “Because of him and his groundbreaking research, we only need the one. It’s a shame Gianne overlooked him all these years. She might have gotten somewhere if she’d just utilized him a bit more, instead of that idiot brother of his.” He paused, as if waiting for Navan to retort and defend Jareth, but on that the two of them were in agreement.
“You haven’t answered my question. How can you only need one?”
“Never you mind about the specifics, Navan.” Ezra smiled coolly.
Aurelius nodded, puffing out his chest. “There’ll be no need to taint our species’ blood through intermingling with lesser creatures more than once. We wish to ensure the child is viable the first time around, so that… repetitions… of the act are not required.”
“You want to ensure that the child is ‘viable’—it’s a child, not a thing!” The fury was building again, inside me. Stealing a glance at Navan, I could see he was feeling the same.
Ezra shrugged. “A matter of semantics, Riley.”
“And I suppose you’ll be observing these ‘repetitions,’ will you?” Navan was close to losing his temper—I could hear it in his voice. There was no way he’d let me be put through that sort of mortification, and neither would I. However, the two rebels recoiled. If I hadn’t been boiling with rage, I might have found their horrified faces amusing.
“How dare you suggest such a thing?” Ezra shuddered.
“You’re one to talk!” I fired back.
He arched an eyebrow. “There’s nothing in this universe that could entice me to watch such depravity. Unlike your lover here, I still believe in Vysanthean purity.” He shot Navan a look of revulsion. “You’ll have this private space to do with as you please. I’m no biologist, but I know that the stress of observation can sometimes cause… performance issues, and we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”
I couldn’t believe he’d said that. I couldn’t believe any of this was happening. In that moment, I wished a freak fragment of asteroid would break loose and come tearing through the porthole, with all of us getting sucked out of the window and into space before any of this could actually happen. It would be far easier to deal with.
“And if we refuse?” Navan asked.
“Then we shall have to take alternative measures, as we have stated,” Aurelius replied with sickening glee.
“We’ll give you plenty of time, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ezra interjected. “This will be your home for the next… well, however long it takes. We’re prepared to wait, though there’s no point trying to trick us. We have sensors—we’ll know if you aren’t keeping up your end of the bargain, as it were.” He winked at Navan, and I didn’t know whether to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation or break down in tears for the same reason.
“Why did it have to be us?” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.
“Because no self-respecting coldblood, however bored,” Ezra replied, shooting a warning look at Aurelius for his previous comment, “would willingly mate with another species. Purity is key to our prowess as superior beings. You look at all these other species, dotted about the universe—they go flying about, sullying themselves with whomever happens to come along. Their bloodlines weaken, their genetics mutate, and soon enough they’re nothing compared to what they might’ve been. Merevins are the perfect example. All of their interspecies shenanigans have resulted in a drop in female births. Had they stayed true to their own species, they wouldn’t be where they are today.”
“No, they have ‘mated’ with other species because there aren’t enough females,” Navan retorted. “You’re making things up to fit your point of view. Coldbloods are no better than anyone else. If anything, we’re worse—our genetics have no diversity because we haven’t introduced anything new to our DNA. We’ve had no chance to evolve, and we’re stagnating. Read a book once in a while. You might learn the truth about our ‘superior’ species.”
Ezra looked like he wanted to lash out at Navan, but he held back. “Whatever helps you absolve your own conscience. Anyway, the only reason you are here instead of someone else is because I couldn’t ask that of my men—I couldn’t ask them to defile themselves in such a manner. It disgusts me to even think of it.” He took a steadying breath. “Your copulation as a breeding pair is a necessary evil, nothing more.”
I wondered if they had a thesaurus hidden away somewhere, for all the ways a person could mention sex without actually saying the word. Again, I wa
sn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. This scenario felt like it called for both.
“Of course, we shall only keep you alive for as long as you are needed,” Aurelius said gleefully, directing his words at Navan. “After all, you must be there for the Liberation of the child, as all Vysanthean fathers have been before you.”
My throat was tight, like I’d swallowed a peach pit. “Liberation?”
Navan gazed down into my eyes with such sorrow that I thought I might crumble there and then. “The Liberation of a child is an important part of Vysanthean birth,” he explained solemnly. “It’s where the child is birthed within a casing of its own leathery wings. A thick membrane binds the wings together, which can only be torn away by the fangs of the father. The fangs harden temporarily at the sound of their baby’s first cry, and that is what’s used to tear away the membrane. Nothing in nature, or manmade, can break through that membrane—only the fangs.”
I gasped. “What if the father is gone?”
“The responsibility will pass to another male who shares the father’s bloodline, though it doesn’t always work, and if it doesn’t… Well, you don’t need me to say it. Nobody knows why it happens. It’s just one of those freak twists of nature.”
I felt my heart grip at the thought of someone having to endure that—giving birth after the loss of the child’s father, only to have to watch as the child died, too. I tried to picture the idea of the Liberation, undecided as to whether it sounded violent and macabre, or precious and intimate. I supposed it depended on the father, and how the child had come into the world. Tears pricked my eyes at the prospect of having a baby with Navan, but I refused to let them fall in front of Ezra and Aurelius.
The latter smiled with gut-wrenching satisfaction. “And once you have performed the Liberation, Navan, we will kill you.”
As the words echoed in my ears, I couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. Crumbling in Navan’s arms, I let them pour down my face, ugly sobs wracking my chest as I struggled for breath. I wasn’t strong enough for this nightmare. I could fly gunships, fight aliens, risk my life for others, and do a million other things that demanded bravery… but I couldn’t do this. This was too raw, too personal, too real. This wasn’t just my own life at stake.
“I can see we’ve exhausted you,” Ezra mused. “I suppose it’s a good thing we’re not torturing you. You’d have buckled within minutes. Anyway, you’ll be able to rest soon enough.”
Navan gripped me tighter, letting me sob into his chest. “She rests now.”
“We must assess her overall health before we go through with any of this, to ensure there aren’t any injuries or reproductive issues that might impede her pregnancy,” Aurelius replied casually. “Time is of the essence, so she must go now.”
“She’s staying here!” Navan insisted, holding me as tightly as he could.
Buried in his chest, refusing to look up through bleary eyes, I heard heavy boots on the floor of the room. They were getting closer. Hands grabbed me, and my body was buffeted this way and that as guards tore me out of Navan’s grasp. In a panic, I tried to keep hold of him, gripping his shirt so tight that it ripped as the guards hauled me off, leaving me with a scrap of fabric in my hand. As soon as they’d managed to get me away from him, more soldiers moved in, until they had him pinned to the ground, his arms behind his back, his head shoved against the floor.
“Escort her to the medic,” Ezra instructed.
“NAVAN!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as they took me away.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I fought against the guards with every ounce of strength I had left, thrashing against their grip with clawing hands, kicking out until my foot connected with solid flesh. I even tried to headbutt one of them, though the impact made me dizzy, black spots speckling my vision. The metallic tang of blood trickled into my mouth, streaming from my nose, but I still wouldn’t back down. They were shouting at me to calm down, their voices muffled through their half masks, but I wasn’t listening anymore.
I’d never known hatred like it. Every cell in my body was filled with pure loathing, so fierce I could have taken a gun and shot everyone dead, not feeling a fragment of remorse until the dust settled. Now, more deeply than ever, I understood why the universe despised coldbloods so intensely—they were ruthless, caring for nothing but themselves and their pathetic, insular nation. They had a god complex of the worst kind. Vysantheans wore the nickname like a badge of honor, as though it was a good thing to be a cold-blooded killer.
This will fail, the way every other experiment has, and they’ll go crawling back to their hole in the ground. You’ll go back to Earth, you’ll see everyone you love, and this will all be a nightmare… a terrible, half-forgotten dream, I told myself, trying to calm down. They don’t even know if it can be done. Yes, you’ve seen half-breeds elsewhere, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be compatible with Navan. An image of Kirin, the half-merevin, half-fae, popped into my mind. Even then, her friends had said how rare she was—it wasn’t often a half-breed was created. Maybe fate would be on our side for once. Maybe it would prove to be impossible.
I forced myself to think of all the good coldbloods I knew, all the Vysantheans who gave me hope that they might discover a more reasonable future for their species. Navan, Bashrik, and Ronad had proven that, but they weren’t the only ones. Seraphina had always spoken with a sensible mind, envisioning a brighter version of their world, where decisions were made by the people, though not in the power-hungry way that Ezra and Aurelius wanted. Kaido deserved more, too. He deserved a Vysanthe that didn’t kill those who were different. Even Sarrask had a good heart; he was just a victim of his planet’s indoctrination, striving to meet the impossible expectations set down by his parents and his queen. Beneath that, I’d seen potential—a flickering hope for a better world.
Then, there were the laymen, like the fierce woman at the fighting pits, who’d spoken of how little the monarchs cared for the ordinary Vysanthean. I realized I was getting things confused, painting every single coldblood with the same brush, judging them all by their leaders instead of their individuality.
There you go. Doesn’t that feel better? My limbs stopped thrashing and my legs ceased to kick as a creeping calm drifted through my body. I wiped away the nosebleed with the back of my sleeve, the black fabric soaking it up. I was starting to feel better.
How can you do it, though? How can you bring a child into this world, only for it to be used for such evil purposes? If, by some miracle, this works, then you’re signing the death warrant of the universe, a darker voice spoke in my head. It was still me, but this was the negative streak I tried to keep hidden away. This was the part of myself which, so often, spoke the most truth.
Any sense of calm shifted to miserable resignation. The guards steered me toward a different side of the clinical unit we’d come through earlier to reach that twisted excuse for a bedroom. There was no way of knowing how far Ezra’s rebels would push this. Would they really sink that low, killing an innocent child just to harvest all of its blood? The answer was painfully obvious.
I thought I heard the main guard sigh with relief as I slumped in his arms, letting him drag me the rest of the way, toward a door set in the farthest wall of the clinical unit. He knocked before opening it, then shoved me inside, giving me a vengeful jab in the spine as he pushed me through. I had a feeling they were all going to stand there outside the door until this was over.
Inside, the room looked like any other surgery ward. There was a bed, a cart with shiny tools, a computer of some kind, and various cupboards and drawers containing items I didn’t even want to think about. At the opposite end of the room, I saw the back of a coldblood male’s head bobbing and weaving as he searched for something in one of the cabinets. I wasn’t sure what else I’d expected, considering all the doctors had been jettisoned off the station with their patients, left to float aimlessly in space, dead and frozen.
I cleared my throat, letting him know
I was here. After all, I wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon. The doctor whirled around, revealing the familiar features of Doctor Ulani.
“Mort? Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” I hissed, a sudden rage overwhelming every rational sense. “You nasty little creep! Of course you’d crawl back to the rebels!” I picked up a scalpel and hurled it at him. The blade thudded into the tiny tray he’d snatched from the sideboard and held up to his face, just in time.
“Riley, let me explain!” he squeaked.
“Oh, no you don’t—you double-crossing, deceitful, lying little maggot!” I roared, grasping at a bucket of disinfectant and aiming it at his head. It caught the edge of his pathetic tray, drenching him in sterile liquid. The entire cart of sharp tools followed, then a jar of gauze, every ball of bandages I could find, a lampshade, the contents of two drawers, and a few tools I didn’t know the purpose of. He did what he could with his tray, fending off my attacks with a shield barely bigger than an envelope.
“Are you okay in there? Do you need backup, Doctor?” one of the guards asked, though he didn’t sound too eager to intervene.
“I’m fine!” Mort chirped back, his voice shaking. It was enough to satisfy the tentative guards.
Meanwhile, I scoured the room, looking for anything and everything that I could throw at him, wanting to feel the rage leave my body with every item I lobbed at him. It was cathartic to let my anger pour out.
“Riley, please!” He ducked down as my boot collided with his tiny tray.
“No! You don’t get to talk to me!” I barked, throwing my other boot.
“Calm down!”
“I won’t calm down! Do you know what they want me to do?” I screamed, desperately searching for something else to throw, but I was standing in my socks with nothing left to chuck. I stared at him, heaving for breath, the rage vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “Of course you know what they want me to do. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”