Cold, gray eyes gazed at the red hair resting on her soft, beautiful face.

  Close to flawless.

  A small scar traced from the split of her lip to the right mid-cheek. Regardless of the beauty, the blemish remained. He knew emerald eyes lay behind closed lids. She drew deep and slow breaths while she slumbered. Bile rose in his throat, and he yearned to lash out in anger. The physical scars were healed, and her back mended as she slept. Of all the luck in the world, he underestimated her resolve to live, and left her for dead. A fitting end.

  Hearing her words had killed whatever affection he felt. Xenomene was something he couldn’t let go of. She dominated his mind from the first glance. She ignored everyone and treated him no different. Many tried to crawl into her bed, and she refused almost everyone. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when a man claimed such a sweet victory. He, like many others, wondered what lay beneath teasing clothes. Loving and lusting from afar would never be enough. The culmination of years of wanting and waiting came at Cape Gythmel.

  That was then. Now, he hated and loved, but which won out? He'd teetered with killing himself the night of the attack. His sword’s hilt lay against the ground, his gut pressed into the point, ready to impale. He would join her in the afterlife, where their souls could love without the lies and deceit of flesh. He often wished for a power to call on, to reveal the feelings of his soul to another’s. If she realized how much he had loved her …

  But she didn’t, not until he revealed the truth. Shock riddled her face, not horror but recognition. She made an effort afterward.

  He rolled his eyes. It was all a lie.

  He remembered the first time he partook of her body. She had been a fine wine, intoxicating to drink. The smell of her hair, the silky touch of skin, the faint, sweet taste of flesh … he shuddered in pleasure at the memory. She gave him an incredible gift, the honor of her body. He, in return, poured all the love and emotions into the tangle of their forms. He thought she loved him, too.

  What a fool I was.

  She punished him by removing his testicle, a barbaric and abusive display of power. His love turned to ashes in his mouth and evolved into resentment. She had spit in the face of his culture when she marred him.

  She made an effort to talk to him, to win him back. Hope flirted with the gray clouds of emotions. Remorse had filled her eyes and shaky voice. Her pupils dilated, and her breath rasped. She opened to him and melted the steel around his heart. He kissed her then, quick and fast as he dared, testing before going further. She must have loved him because she returned his embrace and offered her body again.

  That was twice you partook of me and never offered your love or devotion.

  His feelings were stronger than hers, and he loved her enough to make her happy. He remembered, with slight embarrassment, that the Mind walked in on them. Krey weren’t modest, but he dishonored them both by being caught. As a boy, he remembered watching people have sex in the Isles and at House Eti. Those that usually did were not lovers, but people answering the call of lust, a typical behavior with the added benefit of an audience. It was a mark of strength for an individual, or if a couple engaged, a sign of devotion to their relationship. However, he and Xenomene never discussed that aspect, and the shame of dishonor stung by being discovered without invitation or forewarning. The Krey side of him didn’t care. He remembered that night. She had been deep in her carnality, loved watching in the mirrors. A sexual animal writhed within her. Lust turned into an inferno as she stared at the Mind once he entered the room.

  He wanted to scream. I fucking shared your flesh.

  Once Islanders became a couple, their promiscuity customarily ended with other people unless their relationship was built around that. He witnessed her want and relented to share. It was hard at first, to see her head bob up and down, but she craved it. Her happiness mattered most.

  If you were happy, I was delighted. Gods! Why couldn’t you see that?

  He even let the Mind penetrate her. Xeno’s lust drove Bitcher’s, and he yearned to sate her desires. He had been her only one for a long time, but Bitcher didn’t claim her sacred virginity, only ending the renowned, self-imposed celibacy.

  Then came the horrible night he overheard the Heart’s conversation. He hid in an adjacent room and listened. Xenomene never loved him after all. She pitied him and sought to fix him so that life could go back to normal. The Heart mentioning the incident caused revulsion in the promoted ko-don’s voice. Xenomene schooled facial features well, but her voice gave away any emotion she felt. If she didn’t speak in dry, deadpan, and sarcastic tones, something caused her turmoil. As they say: this is how the fool loved and had his heart cut out.

  She promised Warlock Lakayre not to disfigure him or her life was forfeit. Honor and discipline mattered most to the Krey, and she spat on both by misleading the warlock. She took Bitcher into the desert knowing she never intended to keep her word. He remembered her warm hands before the cold bite of steel through flesh. The Heart healed those wounds, but his screams irritated his throat for the next three days.

  The warlock had the right to claim her life, but Bitcher took it upon himself to carry out the sentence. Righteous anger rose when he learned of the vow she defiled. Her words cut out his heart but learning of the broken bond left him cold. She was dead to him. He didn’t know what hurt worst, the fact that she pitied him, didn’t love him, or being an oath breaker.

  Breaking a vow was enough to strip her of rank forever. An oath breaker was the lowest a person could sink in the eyes of the Krey. Slaves enjoyed a higher status. At minimum, she’d wallow in a life of servitude after reneging, living and serving on her knees, scrubbing floors, hemming clothes, washing laundry, preparing meals, and cleaning armor. The black collar of oath breakers would never leave her neck, branding her lower than the dogs, and like an animal, she’d take meals on the floor. Even the vermin ate better, and from a bowl, too.

  Her life would serve two purposes after, that of a slave and a whore. Once the black collar fastened around their necks, the Mark of the Profane—as the Krey called the oath breakers—serviced not only House Eti but the flesh of the Krey within. No one would dare release their seed within her once she wore the Mark of the Profane, and her womb would wither as the years rolled by.

  Some Profane, depending on the broken oath, would be tortured, their tongue the first to depart their body. A lying tongue was not welcomed, and the Krey perfected the art of telling half-truths.

  More like the art of not saying too much.

  Next, they would take her eyes, but only after a time. At first, a tongueless Profane would cower, but all were the same. When enough time passed, defiance would light in their eyes, and the Krey stripped that, too. Left to a life of darkness and unable to speak, Bitcher preferred death. If the vow broken were severe enough, the Profane would be tortured to death. It would be an agonizing way to die, drawn out for weeks, bringing the Profane to the cusp of death before stopping. Eventually, the spirit would break, losing the will to live.

  And that fate awaited Xeno when she woke: the Mark of the Profane.

  Bitcher’s hand ached as he clenched his fist until the nails dug into his flesh.

  She deserves that fate!

  He remembered the rage, not quite bloodlust but close. He poured his hate and discontent into each landed blow. He meant to kill her.

  The stubborn bitch doesn’t die.

  He had partaken of her flesh one last time; the anguish he felt fueled each malcontent thrust. In his own way, Bitcher showed mercy, knowing the awaited fate. He acted to save her from the collar and the dishonor. Had she died, the grave would hold his agony and torment and her secrets. Her betrayal of his emotions and the Krey drove him to the point of taking his life. Would the love he once bore rekindle in their spirits? Stubbornness stayed his hand. Sure she had perished, he hadn’t checked and waited to make sure before following suit.

  But Bitcher lived in denial. The emotions were specific, and killing her granted mercy, but he confused the why.

  I did it because I loved her. I can’t bear to see her suffer that fate.

  The truth created a perplexity unto itself. She would undoubtedly wake, and when she did, she’d speak. At first, she’d be uncertain, perhaps fearful. Animosity and vindictiveness would urge her. When she did, Bitcher’s life would be forfeit along with hers. Dying together didn’t seem so bad. What if they killed him and left her to the collar? He needed to ensure her silence. Most often, people who acted with resentment regretted their actions later. Both of them were prime examples of that. Their copulation in Cape Gythmel riddled him with guilt by the liberty he took. In retaliation, she castrated him three times. When he heard of the broken vow, rage took control.

  It would’ve been better if you had died … my love.

  Which brought him full circle to her bedside.

  A faint sound came from behind, the opening and closing of a door accompanied by the whisper of cloth. Even the footfalls were silent and measured. Tiny sidled to Bitcher and stared down at the pixie-like woman. Neither man spoke for a time. Bitcher knew why Tiny was here. As if on cue, the big man placed an enormous hand on Bitcher’s shoulder.

  “We need to talk.” He did not command, but it was implied: ’You’re going to talk to me, and right now!’ Bitcher nodded, and the two men left the room.

  Bitcher followed in silence all the way from the Royal Scepter—where Warlock Lakayre demanded Xeno be placed—to their barracks. They ascended four flights of stairs and down the long hall to Xenomene’s room where Tiny assumed the duties as leader. He didn’t take up residence, but he occupied the place most of the day. He opened the door and ushered Bitcher in.

  Bitcher noticed the Mind and the Heart’s presence as the door swung open. They stood in front of the replaced desk.

  Back where it all started.

  The door closed behind him, almost thudding shut. Tiny moved his large frame around the three members and took the seat at the desk. In the small chair, the big man dwarfed the table and looked like a gorillian sitting behind a small slab of wood. Tiny sat back so his knees wouldn’t smash the underside.

  The big man cleared his throat. “You can guess why you are here.”

  It wasn’t a question so much as a statement, but the implied threat gave Bitcher pause. After Bitcher had left Xenomene, he climbed down the stairs. When noises arose from the second deck, he investigated. Much to his shock, he had stumbled into a perfect alibi.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Yes,” Bitcher said, his voice stable while his emotions quivered.

  “Tell me, then,” Tiny spoke with an edge of malevolence.

  “You’re here to question me about the night Xenomene was attacked.”

  “Sounds like you knew this was coming,” the Heart commented with sharp words. Bitcher turned to her. Her bronze skin clashed horribly with the dark amber robes. The black sash and hunter green striping along the cuffs of the sleeves, shoulders, and the openings of her garments brought the only relief.

  “I did know this was coming,” he spat. “You’ve started questioning others. Though I’m surprised you didn’t come after me first.” The Heart glanced at the floor with her almond-colored eyes. “Oh,” he chuckled, “so you did want to.” He peered at the other two men present. “That implies you decided my guilt. So, you played a little game to make it appear that I wasn’t your only suspect.”

  “Are you guilty?” Tiny asked.

  “Of what?”

  “You know damn well what.”

  “I’m guilty of many things,” Bitcher said, “but not for what you’re seeking.”

  “Looks to me like a lover’s quarrel gone too far,” the Heart spoke up, her eyes lifting from the floor.

  “Are you practiced in the art of a lover’s quarrel?”

  “Answer her question,” Tiny commanded.

  “She didn’t ask anything.”

  Tiny rolled his eyes. “Answer her accusation.”

  “I thought I had. I’m not guilty.” He focused on the Heart. “We had no lover’s quarrel.”

  “Are you sure?” she countered. “Perhaps this was a fight of jealousy. You caught her with another man and aimed to kill her.”

  Bitcher sighed. “She’s been with another man, and I wasn’t jealous, so why would I hurt her?” The Mind shifted his feet. Bitcher regarded Tiny and raised a brow. “Anything else?”

  “Who?” the big man asked.

  “Who what?”

  “Who was this man that she was with?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  Tiny lurched to his feet, his voice thundered. “Out with it, damn you! I’m in command while she is unable to serve! This is an order.”

  Bitcher said nothing, but his eyes slid to the Mind as the A’uri spoke. “I am that man.”

  Startled looks came from the Heart and Tiny. The Mind was a tall man, taller than Bitcher but nowhere near the height of Tiny. Where Tiny was clean shaven, the Mind had a trimmed beard of dark brown hair. His ear-length tresses held just the faintest traces of curls.

  “What?” Tiny breathed.

  “Why didn’t you say anything before?” the Heart inquired.

  “Because it didn’t matter.”

  Bitcher smiled inwardly. The fact that he hadn’t told Tiny of his involvement with Xenomene cast doubt on the Mind and off Bitcher. It couldn’t have worked out better. The Mind sighed. “Back before the first battle at Cape Gythmel, Xenomene quested me.” The revelation shocked Bitcher as much as the others. He hadn’t known that part. The Krey referred to the threesome in this office.

  “Is that all?” Tiny prodded.

  “No,” the Mind continued. He sighed and glared at Bitcher before turning back. “I also had her here, in this office.”

  “Is that all?”

  The Mind cringed, not wishing for full disclosure. “No, I had her with Bitcher.”

  Bitcher could feel the Heart’s and Tiny’s gaze on him before flickering back to the Mind.

  “What do you mean with?” Tiny’s voice held an edge of menace.

  “It was consensual if that’s where your dark thoughts tumble. I came to talk to Xeno about Cape Gythmel, but when I came in, I saw …” he turned to Bitcher.

  “Yes?” Tiny drawled.

  “I saw Bitcher fucking her,” the Mind finished.

  The Heart spoke next. “Was he penetrating her vagina?”

  Worry flickered through Bitcher. She had to be searching for a clue or a conclusion of a theory they had started. Tiny’s quick glance in her direction confirmed his suspicion. The burly man’s eyes found the Mind again. This wasn’t a simple question to get jolly on the details, but an investigation they took seriously.

  “No,” the Mind answered. “He … took her in typical Islander fashion.”

  The Heart and Tiny turned their scrutiny to Bitcher. A flicker of emotion passed over the big man’s face. The enmity and petulance always lingered, but now something else passed over him. Perhaps the flames of jealousy? Lust? Did he love Xenomene or desire to exert his dominance by claiming her?

  “That’s all that happened?” the Heart prodded. “You witnessed them having intercourse?”

  The Mind’s hands clenched his robes in embarrassment and frustration. “No. Xenomene glimpsed me and told me to shut the door.”

  “I believe,” Bitcher clarified, “she said, ‘shut the fucking door.’”

  Tiny glowered. “Really? You interjected to make such a small clarification?”

  “If you are going to investigate this matter, it should be done in a thorough and unbiased manner,” Bitcher said. “The details are important, even if you and the Heart have already determined my guilt.” He turned and addressed the Mind. “Continue. Don’t feel any shame.”

  With Bitcher’s words of encouragement, the Mind continued. “I closed the door, but I came inside. I admit fault on my part; I couldn’t help but give all my attention. It was almost as if …” he searched for the right words.

  “The lust took over you?” the Heart supplied.

  “Yes, that’s it exactly. How did you know?” He waved the question away. “I pulled up a chair and attended. I was turned on. It took all my self-control not to join in.”

  “Did you?” Tiny asked. The Mind nodded.

  Bitcher explained the next part. “Xenomene had been watching through the mirrors. She ached to watch. When the Mind came in, she no longer viewed herself but him. She lusted for him.”

  “Is this true?” Tiny queried the A’uri.

  “Yes. Bitcher moved her in front of me, but she partook of her own accord. I don’t know how or when or why, but I took her to the bed.”

  “Is that everything?” the Heart inquired.

  The Mind shook his head. “Bitcher joined us, too.”

  “Ouch,” Tiny commented. The Heart rolled her eyes. An emotion rippled across the big man’s face, one that Bitcher couldn’t catch.

  An epiphany hit Bitcher, and he crafted words to cast further doubt on the Mind. The Krey picked up the story where the A’uri left off. “I asked him if he fancied to take her in Islander fashion. He did. He said it was his first time, and I believe him.”

  “Why?” the Heart queried.

  “He was …” Bitcher let his eyes flicker to the Mind and back, “… unsure. He hurt her more than pleased.”

  “How do you know?” Tiny asked.

  “I watched her face as he ravaged her.”

  “Ravage is a strong word,” the Mind protested.

  “Maybe, but it’s accurate. I glimpsed the pain dancing across her face. By the time you were done, she was rubbed raw and bleeding. We had to wait a couple of days before having sex again. In fact, I’m sure if you go to the apothecary, they can confirm that she received doses of dewgrass.”

  Tiny and the Heart exchanged a look before returning to the Mind.

  “Is this true?” Tiny asked.

  “Somewhat. I don’t agree with Bitcher’s choice of words, but what he describes is accurate.”

  “Very well,” Tiny said with a weary sigh. Bitcher and the Mind just threw their entire investigation into the chamberpot. They were confident of their guilty suspect, but now had a fog of presented realities.

  “Where were you the night that Xenomene was attacked?” the Heart continued, not willing to give up.

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “Why? Guilty?”

  “No, I was with other people, but it’s not for me to say. I’d be violating an unspoken trust.”

  “What you say here is kept in confidence,” Tiny assured him.

  “No, it’s not that. To speak would be like becoming an oath breaker.” It took all his will not to gander towards the Heart who straightened at his words. She, too, faced dire consequences if the word got out about what she and Xenomene had done. She’d bear the Mark of the Profane, a collar similar to Xeno’s, but with magical properties inhibiting her ability to control the mind-melding, rendering her helpless to thousands of voices in the Hive. She’d go mad. That is, unless, they killed her.

  Tiny sighed. “Very well, in front of witnesses, I bid you to speak, to break your silence without fear of recourse; from this day to the end of your days, you will not be sought after for penalty or retribution.”

  Bitcher sighed and put on a show of hesitation at disclosure, but not enough to irritate Tiny. He shuffled his feet and exhaled a slow breath. “I was having sex.”

  The Heart burst out with a laugh. “Xenomene not enough for you? With whom?”

  “With a camp hand.”

  “I don’t believe that for one minute! If you’re going to lie, you should at least have a plausible one,” she scolded.

  “Let him finish,” Tiny interrupted.

  Bitcher waited a few moments. “I was having sex with a camp hand, as was Slurp. Smokey took his turn once we finished.”

  Disgust flashed across the Heart’s features. He couldn’t tell if it was because he slept with a camp hand and Xenomene, or for joining Slurp and Smokey.

  “So you brought a whore into our barracks?”

  “Did I fucking say that, Tiny? No, I didn’t bring her in, and a camp hand isn’t a whore.”

  “Camp hand, whore, damsel, call her what you will.” Tiny said. “She sold herself for sex. You lot are all Islanders, correct?”

  “Yes, as was she.” His eyes darted between the gathered people. “We took her in the manner that I take Xenomene. The way the Mind took Xenomene.” He added those two crucial lines to cast suspicion back on the A’uri. The other two glanced to the Mind.

  “Was it consensual?”

  “Yes,” Bitcher barked. “Do you think I would rape a camp hand with old pals from the Isles? I don’t even know them. Yes, it was consensual. I’m tired of your wordless accusations. Either speak them or shut the fuck up! Yes, I fucked Xenomene, and I screwed a camp hand with Slurp. What may be considered taboo for you uptight, prudish Rallocan citizens is an everyday commonality where I am from. Do not judge me or my culture because you are too closed-minded, you fucks!”

  Tiny leaned back in his chair, the corded muscles in his neck tight with restraint. The Heart took his words personally as she bit back. “I’m not from Ralloc, nor prudish. I don’t judge you by your sexual preference.”

  “You are prudish!” Bitcher yelled. “Have you lain with an Islander? With a Toshii? A dwaven?” She shook her head in horror. “Then, you are priggish. Hell, you’re probably still a virgin. Every time a sexual question was asked tonight, I could see your cringing face. Shades! You fucks are supposed to be finding out who did this to Xenomene, not dissecting my sexuality, you cunts!”

  “ENOUGH!” Tiny roared. He took a deep breath. His voice was under control when he spoke again, but Bitcher could see his tense body, his muscles bulging underneath the thin cotton material. “You will not talk to me or anyone else that way, Bitcher! Have I made myself understood?”

  “Yeah. Step in to rescue your second floozy. When Xeno denies you, you need a contingency.”

  Frustrated, Tiny ran his fingertips through his hair. “Xenomene may tolerate you, but I won’t. Until she resumes her duties, what I say matters.” He took a moment to pause and collect himself. “We’ll check into your story. If what you say is true, we’ll consider other suspects.”

  “You can’t be serious! You know Bitcher did it!” the Heart interjected.

  Tiny held up his hand to cut her off. His eyes bored into her. “Bitcher may be less than courteous with words, but it doesn’t make them any less truthful. We’ve been biased. Even now, your attitude shows this truth. His tale of a consensual threesome with Xenomene has been collaborated by the Mind’s testimony. If the story of the whore is half-way accurate, then we must consider alternatives.”

  He turned to Bitcher, the ice of his eyes belied the heat in his voice. “However, it should be easy enough to prove if you are lying, Bitcher. I’ve never heard of a camp hand bending over, let alone for three men.”

  You’ve never heard of a camp hand bending over 'cause you’ve never been to war!

  “I’ll question Slurp and Smokey, and will search for this woman,” Tiny continued. “Without her, your story is meaningless. If she confesses to your activities, then you’ll be absolved. If you’re lying, the gods better help you. I’ll behead you myself, not from guilt, but because I don’t like you, and your lie will be grounds enough. Am I understood?”

  Bitcher searched Tiny’s face, measuring the words of the man.

  “Fuck you!”

  Bitcher turned and stormed from the room.