Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,57
process? What then?”
“Oh, I don’t believe it’ll come to that. Not if we play it right.”
Where there had once been soothing warmth, a cold chill of dread gripped her heart. Their lives were already in jeopardy, and she’d seen how easily and irrevocably life could be snuffed out.
“Pelarus doesn’t want you dead, or you’d have been killed long ago. The Nedwuts have been bleeding you—and him—dry by prolonging the process of capturing you. They’re getting paid twice for a job they still haven’t managed to complete. A job they really have no incentive to finish. You’ll be safe enough.”
“Yes, but what about you? If they don’t kill you on sight, you’ll be sent to the arena.” Once again, she had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to be killed, she wouldn’t outlive him by much.
“Klara, sweetheart, you’ve seen me fight. Do you really think I can’t win a few turns in the arena?”
“Maybe so, but you can’t outrun a pulse beam, and there’s no guarantee your opponents will fight fair. They might even be given an advantage by Pelarus himself.” She shuddered at the prospect of Moe, alone and unarmed, against a gang of cutthroats who were armed to the teeth.
“Okay. We don’t have to set out to take that route, but if it happens—and I wouldn’t discount the possibility that it will—we need to have an alternate plan in place.”
“We’d be separated. You realize that, don’t you?” The prospect of being kept in different prison cells was nearly as horrible as being separated by death.
He cupped her cheek with a gentle hand. “There are no guarantees in war, Klara. You know that as well as I do. I—”
“Okay, you two,” Temfilk shouted from beyond the closed door. “I can hear you talking in there. Doesn’t sound a bit like fun and games to me. You need to come out now. It’s time for breakfast, and I’m starving!”
“Give him a few regular meals and already he expects them,” Klara muttered as she threw off the blanket and sat up—or tried to. Their discussion might’ve circumvented the whole laetralance thing, but that didn’t mean she was operating at full capacity. Her bones still felt like warm jelly. “Give us a minute,” she yelled back. “I’m not really awake yet.”
A snort sounded from Temfilk’s direction. “Since when have you ever had trouble waking up?”
“Since today,” she snapped. “That’s what happens when a sleep-deprived person actually gets to sleep through the night.”
Temfilk cackled with glee. “Guess we can call that the Moe Effect, huh?”
“Call it whatever you like,” she grumbled. Swaying slightly as she pushed off from the bed, she steadied herself by adopting a wider stance before standing upright through sheer force of will.
“You aren’t dizzy, are you?” Moe sounded a tiny bit anxious, and understandably so. This was not the time to go into heat—or whatever a Zetithian woman’s fertile period was called.
“No,” she replied. “Just feeling the snard, minus the blissful laetralance part.”
Despite her assurances, he was out of the bed and by her side with an arm around her waist before she had time to draw another breath.
She shot him a sidelong glare. “You, on the other hand, appear to be feeling perfectly well.”
“And then some,” he said with an unrepentant grin. “One of the better mornings of my life, actually.”
“I’m glad you think so.” If they’d been about to embark upon anything aside from a revolution, she would’ve said the same. But in light of that “alternative plan” discussion, it seemed more like the calm before the storm.
A really nasty storm.
Moe pulled on his clothes, wishing Velkma’s hospitality included breakfast in bed.
Nah. Too much to hope for.
Especially since he’d never had breakfast in bed in his life. That could change, though. He could buy one of those expensive housekeeping bots and—
I don’t even have a ship now.
Nor had they ever made it to the bank. If Pelarus’s influence extended to the local banking system, which it probably did, he might even be denied access. Had Moe been in Pelarus’s place, freezing Moe’s account would have been his first move.
“We never did get to the bank yesterday,” he said as he stepped into his boots.
“I’m sure the local ladies would be happy to escort you. They might even get you there safely.”
Moe sincerely hoped so. One night alone with Klara wasn’t enough by any means. If he had money to spend on supplies, there would be no need to go off half-cocked. They could take a week or