Repatriate Protocol Box Set Read online

  “No, Sir.”

  “The oil they give her is tainted; it’s what prevents her from bearing fruit.”

  What? I fought to listen more, but the darkness overtook me.

  ◆◆◆

  When I next woke, my eyes snapped open. I felt agitated. What was I upset about again?

  Elliot leaned over me. “Hey, there. How’re you feeling?”

  I pulled my arm from under the rough blanket that I was covered with and touched my hand to my temple. Even that slight touch felt like a heavy blow. I groaned.

  “That’s what I thought. I apologize. I didn’t think you would drink so much of it.”

  “You drugged me,” I said, my words slurred.

  “Yes. I’m sorry about that. But part of the plan is to introduce you, and this is for our own safety, you see.”

  “For someone who wants me to trust them, you have a funny way of earning it.”

  He smiled. “So, you’re feeling better, then.”

  I tried to sit up.

  “No, no. You don’t want to do that quite yet. Just give yourself a few minutes. Here, have some water.”

  He brought a cup of water to my mouth, but I eyed it.

  “That doesn’t have anything in it, does it?”

  “No.” He pushed it against my lips.

  It was silly to resist. If he’d wanted to hurt me, he already would have. And anyway, I was thirsty. I first swallowed a few tentative sips before giving in and gulping as much as I could.

  “Easy, queenie,” he said. “That’s what got you here in the first place.”

  I wiped my hand with my mouth. “I believe you got me into this mess when you chose me.”

  “Touché.”

  I sat up and looked around. We weren’t in a hut; rather, it was a cabin. There were a few of them dotted around the village, but I’d never been inside one. It was curious. Instead of the fire pit centered under the ridge in the ceiling that allowed the smoke to escape, the fire was inside a column of rocks piled all of the way to the ceiling, forcing the smoke up and out.

  Elliot followed my eyes. “That’s the fireplace. Nice, how the smoke can’t fill the room, right?”

  I nodded. “Why am I here?”

  “I want you to meet some people. I want you to hear what they have to say.”

  I turned and studied him. His expression was hopeful. “You’re an isolationist, aren’t you?” I realized.

  He deflated somewhat. “That is one word for what we believe, yes.”

  “What word would you use?”

  “I don’t know, really. I guess I’d call it ‘being human’.”

  I closed my eyes. “You’re traitors to the queen. Traitors to me.”

  “No, it isn’t like that. Not at all.”

  “Then, tell me what it’s like.”

  “I’ll tell you,” a rough voice said behind us. It sounded familiar.

  I turned and looked. He was a big man, tall, with a heavy, dark beard and broad shoulders. I recognized him as one of the queen’s many advisors, though I didn’t know his name.

  He bowed his head, a sign of respect for the first family. Although, since I’d been sent to the fields, those formalities had been dispensed. “My name is Barrow. I’m Elliot’s father.”

  I bowed my head in return. “I am Fiona, daughter to the queen.”

  “I know that,” he snapped.

  He pointed to the door. “You’re welcome to leave at any time. But if you leave without Elliot, the man outside the door will kill you. Do you understand?”

  “I’m not an idiot,” I said.

  “That remains to be seen.” He clapped his hands, and more people entered the cabin. They wore cloaks that covered their faces.

  “These are Elliot’s brothers and sisters, and their mother.” Each of them bowed in turn, but they didn’t speak.

  “Why are their faces covered?” I asked.

  “To protect them.”

  “From what?”

  “You.”

  I glanced at Elliot. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, and I pushed back my response.

  His father continued. “As a member of the first family, I’m sure you’re aware there are people in the village who do not agree with the way things are. They prey upon the weaker minded, trying to gain a foothold against the queen.

  “We don’t agree with many of the traditions upheld by the queen. However, we don’t want to go against her, either. Instead, we want to work as a group to bring peaceful change.”

  “A group,” I repeated.

  He pressed his lips together, causing the hair of his beard to stand out from his face, as if it were alive. “That’s what I said.” He coughed. “We want to offer you a deal.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “I can see you’re suspicious. And why shouldn’t you be? You don’t even know me.” He smirked. “But, you do know that the queen trusts me.”

  “So, why not take this up with her?” I asked. “She’s already in power. I may never reach her position.”

  “Ah, but that is what I can offer you. If we. . .” He stopped and laughed, a short, choppy sound. “Well, if Elliot can make you fruitful, then we would like you to do something for us in return.”

  “You want me to commit treason.”

  “No. We want you to return to the previous ways. We want dual leadership, a pair. You and Elliot.”

  I laughed. “No wonder you haven’t taken this to the queen.”

  “You’ll be a slave if you don’t do as we ask.”

  “I’ll likely fall into slavery if I do.”

  “How do you figure that?” he said.

  “The queen holds power because men are too foolish to wield it. Once they get it, they can think of nothing but more power. More, more, more. A man won’t split power with a woman. He will usurp it. And when he has gotten what he wants from me, he’ll cast me aside. I’ll be fit only to bear his children and scrub his floors.”

  “You won’t be able to keep your power when those who don’t agree with you move against you.”

  “A woman has kept this group safe for a hundred years. These rumblings of people who don’t agree – they’ve existed all that time. Nothing will change.”

  “That may be true. I cannot say. Nobody can say. But, you won’t be queen without Elliot.”

  In my head, I heard his voice saying that the oil was tainted, that it prevented me from bearing fruit.

  A slow smile spread across my face. “Maybe Elliot has already made me queen.”

  Barrow blanched.

  “I won’t be your puppet. If I become queen, I’ll follow the tradition of those before me.”

  His face reddened. “Elliot, take her back to the choosing hut.”

  Elliot looked surprised.

  “We can do nothing more,” persisted Barrow. “Drug her and take her back.”

  “There aren’t that many cabins in the village. I’ll be back with the guard,” I said.

  “Who said we were in the village?” he snarled.

  Elliot held out a cup of liquid. “Drink this,” he said.

  “No. I don’t want to be drugged again,” I shoved his hand away, and some of the liquid sloshed onto the floor.

  “You’ll drink it, or I’ll knock you out!” shouted Barrow, crowding me with his chest puffed out.

  Elliot held up his hand to his father. “It’s okay. She’ll do it. Right?” He nudged the cup to my lips again.

  I stared at Elliot. His eyebrows were knit together. He was anxious. I allowed him to tip the drink to my lips, and I drank a few small sips.

  “There, now. Just lay back and close your eyes. We’ll be back at our hut before you know it.”

  I closed my eyes, but the drug was slower to work in the quantity I’d swallowed. The men continued to talk around me, oblivious of my wakeful state.

  “That didn’t go well at all,” said Elliot. “I told you not to bully her.”

  “She’s a spoiled, first
family brat. She needs nothing more than to be spanked and sent to bed.”

  “She needs careful convincing with facts and reason. We can’t make her do what we want. We have to get her to agree with what we want.”

  “Pish, posh. You sound like your mother. Get that useless wretch out of here.”

  “Father, please. Be reasonable. All these years, you’ve advised the queen with diplomacy and respect. She deserves no less.”

  “She deserves what she’ll get. She’ll be a slave.” He spat, and I felt moisture hit my cheek.

  “Just because she doesn’t fall at your feet and do exactly what you tell her doesn’t mean she’s worthless.”

  Elliot bundled me up in the blanket I was lying on.

  “You keep on her. She’ll break if we keep to the plan,” Barrow said.

  Elliot didn’t respond—at least, not verbally. He started walking, and I felt that he’d moved outside by the breeze stirring the hair against my face. The drug was taking effect, and the sway of his movements lulled me further down the rabbit hole.

  Chapter 3

  “What’s wrong with her?” The words broke into my pounding head.

  “Nothing; she’s just sleeping,” Elliot said.

  “That’s the soundest sleep I’ve ever seen,” returned the other. Her voice was haughty, stiff. Was it the queen?

  He laughed in a conspiratorial tone. “She did have more than a little bit of ale,” he said.

  “That’s ridiculous. She’s never done that before.”

  Someone prodded my leg. “Fiona, wake up.” I willed my eyes to open the tiniest bit, but they stayed glued shut.

  “What is it?” I rasped. My throat was dry.

  “I was just checking on you.” It was the queen.

  My eyes flew open. “Your grace,” I said, struggling to sit up.

  She crossed her arms. “Stay where you are. Word has reached me that you aren’t using the sacred oil. Is it true?”

  Elliot stepped between us. “Why would you think that?”

  “The attendants said you stopped her from the ritual anointment.”

  He laughed. “Oh, that. Well, see, I . . . well, this is embarrassing.” He wrung his hands together. “I was anxious to begin, and I was worried I would . . .” He made a helpless gesture.

  The queen’s brow furrowed. “It’s important that she use the oil. She must bear a child, and this is her last choosing.”

  “I understand,” Elliot said.

  “I’m not sure that you do. Her fate is in your hands.”

  “He understands.” I finally found my feet and stood up beside Elliot.

  “Use the oil. Please.” She handed the ritual pot to Elliot.

  I nodded.

  She moved forward and put her hands on my shoulders. “Blessings to you, my dear.” She kissed me lightly on the cheek, inclined her head at Elliot, and swept from the hut.

  “Wow,” whispered Elliot. “That was weird.”

  I drew my arm back and slapped his cheek as hard as I could. The roughness of the stubble on his face scratched at my hand. Not satisfied, I drew my smarting hand back to hit him again, but he caught me by the wrist.

  “Once was enough,” he said. His cheek bore a red mark. His eyes were cold and hard.

  “You drugged me. And your father! To think I would just roll over and do what he wants.”

  His eyes softened somewhat. “He’s a difficult man to get along with.”

  “I can agree with that, at least.”

  “I’m sorry to have drugged you. I told you that before.”

  “That was before you drugged me again.”

  He nodded. “I mistakenly thought that I would not have to do that.” He smiled. “Your stubborn reputation precedes you. But, I didn’t realize how deep it would run.”

  I stared back at him. People thought I was stubborn? “Why did you tell her that we used the oil?”

  He grimaced. “My father believes that the oil you are provided is not the sacred oil. That someone is putting something in it to make sure you can’t get pregnant. He believes it is the queen’s opposition.”

  “I thought he was the queen’s opposition.” I watched him while he fidgeted with the oil pot. “That isn’t what you believe.”

  “No, it isn’t,” he said.

  I sank down on the bed pallet. “What do you believe?” My voice sounded flat to my ears.

  He sat down beside me. “I can’t be sure.” He patted me on the arm. “My father isn’t the only opposition.” His voice cracked.

  “You believe it’s her. The queen. My only living family.”

  He looked away. “She did seem awfully interested in you using the oil.”

  “Of course, she did. The sacred oil blesses our planting. She stuck her neck out for me, giving me this final choosing. She needs this to work.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and got the food from beside the door. He set it on the ground beside the bed pallet. “I think maybe we should eat. We both need to keep our strength up.”

  My stomach flip-flopped. “I’m not hungry,” I said.

  “More for me.” He sat back down and began eating from the tray.

  “She loves me, you know.”

  He nodded. “Sure, she might.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He swallowed and dragged his hand across his mouth. “It’s like you said. You’re her only living family. She probably does love you.”

  “So, if she loves me, why would she mess with the oil? Why would she give me this extra chance?”

  “You mistake her feelings for you as the basis for fact.”

  “Are you always so obtuse?”

  “Yes, I’d like to think so.” He smiled.

  I tried to work out what he meant in my head. But, it didn’t make sense. If she loved me, she wouldn’t intentionally lead me to harm. Would she?

  “Think of it like this, Fiona. She’s the queen. She has a huge responsibility to take care of the village, to keep us alive and thriving. And she does that very well. All other things, even things that she might love . . . those are secondary.”

  “But, what could she hope to gain by losing a successor? It would destabilize the village. There has always been someone in line to succeed the queen. Someone who has been groomed for that position. If it isn’t me, then who is it? There are no other family members to choose.”

  “I don’t know. It isn’t really important who it is, is it?”

  “Of course, it’s important,” I sputtered.

  “No, it isn’t. You’re just jealous of this mystery person. Remember, it isn’t about love. She doesn’t have that luxury.”

  I turned my back to him. What did he know about it, anyway? He was just the son of a miserable advisor.

  He tapped me on the shoulder, his touch tentative. “Don’t worry, Fiona. You and I will get this figured out.”

  I didn’t answer. There was nothing to figure out. Whether it was the queen or someone else trying to keep me from ascending, someone didn’t want me there. Did it matter that I only wanted the positon to avoid a rough life of toil in the fields?

  The queen’s concerned expression floated into my mind’s eye. Maybe being the queen wasn’t so easy, either. Maybe Elliot was right, and I believed there were only two choices. Was it possible I had more?

  “I’ll be back later,” said Elliot, breaking into my thoughts.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have things I need to do.”

  “But, it’s daylight; people will see—”

  He threw his cloak on and put the hood up. “I’ll be back.”

  He left, and I turned to the tray of food. I picked at a bowl of berries, but my stomach was still queasy. Not wanting to make myself sick, I returned the tray to the spot by the door.

  I looked around for something to do. The hut was only designed for one thing, so there were no other distractions. The fire needed tending, though, so I set about building it
back up. I saw the flames dance to the side a bit and was gazing at it when a voice spoke behind me.

  “Now, what’s a chosen girl like you doing all alone?”

  Orion.

  I turned to find him very close to me. His lip curled up in a sneer, and his eyes were narrowed.

  “Seems like the one who stole you from me doesn’t appreciate you,” he said.

  “He’ll be back any moment,” I said. I tried to move away, but he grabbed me by the wrist.

  “Hm.” He pulled me to him and with his other hand, he stroked a finger along the side of my neck. “Maybe if he returns, he’ll realize his mistake.”

  “It’s you who’s mistaken,” I said.

  “We’ll see about that,” he said through clenched teeth.

  He glanced down at my body, and fear ran through me. I twisted my wrist, but he increased the strength of his grip.

  “You’re hurting me, Orion.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  He moved forward and pushed me down onto the bedding. He produced a knife from his belt and loosened his drawers. I looked away, unwilling to see his nakedness.

  “Turn over,” he demanded.

  “I don’t –”

  “On all fours. Like the dog you are.”

  I didn’t move, and he shook the knife in my face. “Move,” he demanded.

  I felt as though I were swimming through sand, and my motions were difficult to control. He pushed at me, and I felt the prick of the knife against my side. I knew he would use it, if only to increase his own pleasure.

  Somehow, I found myself on my hands and knees as he’d demanded. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back.

  “I’m going to plant in you now. And you’re going to cooperate. Or else this knife will find its way across your throat. Got it?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. He released my head. But then, I realized he wasn’t going to plant where it might benefit me. He was going to plant in my bottom.

  “This is what you deserve, you first-family dog,” he said.

  There was a thump on the floor beside me, and I opened my eyes to see Orion looking back at me, his mouth hanging open, and a dagger protruding from the top of his head.

  I gasped and tried to crawl away. He’d been murdered! But then, soft arms came around me, and a gentle shushing was in my ear.