then dropped into a huddle on the other side. She grabbed her ankles and, bringing her knees up under her chin, closed her eyes and started rocking against the images that began invading her consciousness from having come within arm’s reach. Men, their big arms reaching out, with her chained, nowhere to run…
“They’re not real,” the man said softly, from under the sheet. “They happened in another life.”
Victory’s eyes narrowed at the edge of the mattress. “That’s where you’re wrong.” She hadn’t meant to say it, and wasn’t sure she had, but she felt the man’s breath catch.
“Oh my gods,” he whispered.
Understanding
Her voice had been low and quiet, but it had also been laced with bitterness and contempt. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
Dragomir felt his breath catch, losing control of his emotions for the first time since the prince invaded his home and dragged him, alone, back onto the ship. He felt the energy around him spike with horror even as his heart rama flung itself wide open, releasing a floodgate of compassion. “Oh my gods.”
She said nothing, hunched in silence on the other side of the bed.
Suddenly, everything he had seen within her heart-rama began to make sense. Automatically, he found himself feeding his consciousness back through the tiny needle-entrance to get another look. The cruel visions of pain and humiliation were strangling the rich silver gi inside, choking the rama to a tiny shadow of what it could have been.
“They took you,” he managed, shocked. “The rebels took you.”
She didn’t respond physically, but her heart-rama slammed shut and her energy solidified around her, forcing his consciousness back outside her au . He heard a small sound, low and quiet. Dragomir, frustrated, twisted his hands in their shackles. She needed to be held—every inch of him could feel it. Chained and hobbled like he was, though, any movement he made would only scare her.
“I’ll hold you, if you want,” he finally offered. Perhaps, if he had any luck, she could feel the dormant connection between them. If she did, it might make her more willing to trust him. If she didn’t, he was walking on glass. Most non-Gifted, he had noticed, rarely felt such things, or even believed they existed.
The crying stopped for a moment, and he winced. When she didn’t scream disgusted curses at him, as he expected, he allowed himself a bit of hope.
“Stop talking,” she said. Her voice was ice.
Once again, he was reminded that the woman had the power of life or death over him, and that she was very close to exercising it. Again, Dragomir wondered what had he been thinking, telling her—a royal princess —that he was a ‘mutagenic anomaly,’ as the Imperium liked to call it. The Imperials killed people like him. By all rights, she should have called in her guard the moment he let it slip what he was. Yet, for some unknown reason, this girl who was so obviously terrified of him had let him live. Why?
Unhappily, he closed his eyes and focused on reaching into his core and sending what warmth he could, in his own humiliated state.
After a moment, she quieted. Her rama petals ticked open a bit, once again allowing a thin stream of his golden gi to pass beyond its protective shell.
She gasped. “ You’re doing that, aren’t you?”
Dragomir froze. He had long ago learned that the Imperials feared what they didn’t understand. And one of the things that Imperials could not seem to grasp was that Emps could not hurt people. It was against their nature. Yet, by Imperial decree, Emps were cancerous tumors of society that needed to be excised before they murdered whole villages ‘as they had on the core planets.’ Official Imperial policy, last he heard, was that Emps were mass-murderers.
Yet, if Emps were psychopathic serial-killers, how did the Imperials manage to snatch them from their homes
“They’re not real,” the man said softly, from under the sheet. “They happened in another life.”
Victory’s eyes narrowed at the edge of the mattress. “That’s where you’re wrong.” She hadn’t meant to say it, and wasn’t sure she had, but she felt the man’s breath catch.
“Oh my gods,” he whispered.
Understanding
Her voice had been low and quiet, but it had also been laced with bitterness and contempt. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
Dragomir felt his breath catch, losing control of his emotions for the first time since the prince invaded his home and dragged him, alone, back onto the ship. He felt the energy around him spike with horror even as his heart rama flung itself wide open, releasing a floodgate of compassion. “Oh my gods.”
She said nothing, hunched in silence on the other side of the bed.
Suddenly, everything he had seen within her heart-rama began to make sense. Automatically, he found himself feeding his consciousness back through the tiny needle-entrance to get another look. The cruel visions of pain and humiliation were strangling the rich silver gi inside, choking the rama to a tiny shadow of what it could have been.
“They took you,” he managed, shocked. “The rebels took you.”
She didn’t respond physically, but her heart-rama slammed shut and her energy solidified around her, forcing his consciousness back outside her au . He heard a small sound, low and quiet. Dragomir, frustrated, twisted his hands in their shackles. She needed to be held—every inch of him could feel it. Chained and hobbled like he was, though, any movement he made would only scare her.
“I’ll hold you, if you want,” he finally offered. Perhaps, if he had any luck, she could feel the dormant connection between them. If she did, it might make her more willing to trust him. If she didn’t, he was walking on glass. Most non-Gifted, he had noticed, rarely felt such things, or even believed they existed.
The crying stopped for a moment, and he winced. When she didn’t scream disgusted curses at him, as he expected, he allowed himself a bit of hope.
“Stop talking,” she said. Her voice was ice.
Once again, he was reminded that the woman had the power of life or death over him, and that she was very close to exercising it. Again, Dragomir wondered what had he been thinking, telling her—a royal princess —that he was a ‘mutagenic anomaly,’ as the Imperium liked to call it. The Imperials killed people like him. By all rights, she should have called in her guard the moment he let it slip what he was. Yet, for some unknown reason, this girl who was so obviously terrified of him had let him live. Why?
Unhappily, he closed his eyes and focused on reaching into his core and sending what warmth he could, in his own humiliated state.
After a moment, she quieted. Her rama petals ticked open a bit, once again allowing a thin stream of his golden gi to pass beyond its protective shell.
She gasped. “ You’re doing that, aren’t you?”
Dragomir froze. He had long ago learned that the Imperials feared what they didn’t understand. And one of the things that Imperials could not seem to grasp was that Emps could not hurt people. It was against their nature. Yet, by Imperial decree, Emps were cancerous tumors of society that needed to be excised before they murdered whole villages ‘as they had on the core planets.’ Official Imperial policy, last he heard, was that Emps were mass-murderers.
Yet, if Emps were psychopathic serial-killers, how did the Imperials manage to snatch them from their homes
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