Quietly, he threw down his cards. “I fold.”
The rest of the gamblers hardly glanced up when he slid out of the hall. The conspirator glanced both left and right before bearing left. The training room was this way; so was the armory. Jael half expected the man to stop and fiddle with the lock, but instead he kept moving, quickening to nearly a run, as if the anticipation had grown too much to bear.
He grabbed a man who was on his way to his bunk, and ordered, “Go find the Dread Queen. Send her to me immediately. If you fail, you’ll wish you were dead.”
Gulping, the drafted messenger took off at a run.
Jael didn’t know what he expected to find, but the reality was worse. The men had captured an assortment of aliens, Keelah among them, and they were bound to support beams in the training room. The bastards had grabbed the weakest among them, too, so Ali and Brahm were both conspicuously absent. Some of them were bleeding while others trembled in anticipation of pain to come. Now he understood why they had been traveling in pairs, better to pounce on a single target and drag him off.
He slammed a palm against the door as he strode through. “I’m damn sure the Dread Queen didn’t approve this. Which means it amounts to treason.”
23
Let the Games Begin
“So it does,” Dred said.
When the runner Jael had sent showed up, panting and out of breath, she’d known something must be wrong. She stalked toward Keelah, blade in hand, and cut her loose. Then she offered the knife. “Free your people.”
It was better to show complete support for the newcomers. Though it was technically the middle of downtime, she couldn’t let this ride; there would be no delays to justice or waiting for the rest of the territory to wake up on its own. Some offenses had to be tried immediately in the court of blood and bone. Once the aliens were released, she turned to the treacherous Queenslanders, all of whom looked half a second from pissing their pants.
“Perhaps I didn’t make the rules clear,” she snarled, pointing at the tallest of the lot. “What are they?”
There were eight of them, yet they didn’t try to fight. She had the Dread Queen’s reputation to thank for that. Instead, they stood frozen beneath the weight of her wrath, and one of them even moved closer to Jael, as if he thought he might find mercy there.
You don’t know him very well.
Jael shoved the man who was supposed to be answering her question toward the rest and added a kick for good measure. The impact sent him reeling to the floor. Nobody moved to help him up. He shoved to his feet with a defiant air, but he couldn’t hold her gaze long. He pushed out a wavering breath.
The man thought hard, brow furrowed as sweat dripped down one cheek. “No stealing, no unauthorized fighting. Bathing. Do your work—”
“Then you have no excuse for this offense, cretin. Not even ignorance. You tortured your fellow citizens. Did you think I’d let that go?” Long strides carried her over to where alien blood smeared the ground, not always red, but unmistakable. Kneeling, she swiped her fingers through the sticky droplets, then she returned to the criminals and painted the backs of their hands one by one. “Now their blood truly is on your hands. Remember this feeling. Remember this mistake. It will be your last.”
“They’re not really Queenslanders,” another spat. “Just look at them.”
That moment of bravery didn’t last long when she turned her gaze on him. He stumbled back a step, cowering with the rest. Ignoring them for a few seconds, she turned to Keelah, who had blood smeared on her muzzle. Katur will want their heads, and I don’t blame him. She could ill afford the loss of grunts for the front line, but better to keep the aliens, who weren’t utterly awash in prejudice.
“As the offended party, I’ll give you the option on what I do with these wretches. I can cast them out—to be killed by Silence or eaten by Mungo’s lot. You can execute them yourselves if you prefer. Or we can enjoy their misery in a series of death matches.”
The alien female didn’t ponder long. “The latter sounds fascinating.”
“We’re not fighting!” one of the traitors shouted.
Dred turned with a wicked smile. “You know the rules. The winner gets to live.”
It was a measure of her depravity that she enjoyed how fast the bigots turned on one another. Jael had to pull them apart, or they would’ve started the killing before she roused Calypso and summoned an audience.
She nodded at Keelah. “Can your people restrain them?”
“Gladly.”
Leaving Jael to manage the situation, she ran off to wake Calypso. The mistress of the ring wasn’t amused at being disturbed until she found out it was in her official capacity. Then her white teeth flashed in a delighted smile. “It’s been too long.” She yawned and stretched, then nudged her bedmate out of the bunk. “Go fetch the others. Tell them it’s time for the blood sport.”
A slim, brown-skinned male who bore a passing resemblance to Tam darted out of the room, his eyes lowered submissively. She noticed the fresh marks on his back, but as long as bed play was consensual, this didn’t fall under the heading of harm. Best to check.
“He’s a willing participant, yeah?”
“I don’t make them cuddle with me afterward, dear heart,” Calypso said, smirking. “That’s his choice. So that should tell you plenty about how he feels.”
“Point taken. I can’t believe we have to do this. I wish we weren’t sheltering such animals, but—”
“What more can you expect from Artan’s loyalists?” Calypso rolled out of bed, unconscious of her nudity, and dressed quickly. Her entire outfit had been crafted from cured skins, harvested from the rodents infesting the ship. It gave her an earthy, musky smell, unique among the rest of Queensland.
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t think they all threw in with Lecass? There are those who miss Artan’s cruelty and chaos. They just weren’t brave enough to try to depose you.”
“Comforting,” Dred muttered.
“If you’re looking for solace, my queen, well, you won’t find it here.”
Except that I did. From Jael.
“Don’t call me that. I can’t tell you how much I hate this Dread Queen crap.”
“The men need something to believe in. If they thought you were an ordinary woman, they’d put a blade through your heart.”
“None of us are normal, or we wouldn’t be in Perdition,” she pointed out.
But there were more men than women incarcerated here. Dred wasn’t sure if men were naturally more prone to criminal behavior or if they just got caught more. Ego made her want to believe the latter. But since she’d slipped up, it was slim consolation.
Calypso took up her staff, an impressive feat of scrap engineering; the thing didn’t look like it had any smooth edges, so it must cut into the other woman’s palm, but she showed no visible signs of distress. The mistress of the circle didn’t check her reflection, merely strode out of the room ahead of Dred.
“You’ll get the hall set up?” she asked.
“Of course. Bring the prisoners in a quarter hour or so.”
Nodding, Dred jogged back to the training room, where the traitors had been forced to their knees. They wore the same bloody cords they’d used on their victims, and the refugees seemed pleased with the resolution so far. Katur had joined his mate, but Dred couldn’t read anything from his demeanor. His coppery fur was flat, his eyes dark in the low, downtime light, as Dred ran the zone on half power while most of the populace was sleeping.