The Girl Who Fell From The Sky - Rebecca Royce Page 0,11
Torrin was the leader of this group, and she was his older sister, that would make her some kind of princess, right? Well, I might not know a whole bunch of primitive warrior women with crossbow issues, but I knew how to greet hereditary royalty.
Right there in the dirt-delved tunnel of this filthy backwater planet, I inclined my head and sank into a deep curtsey. The last time I’d done this had been for a planetary Empress. That had been two years earlier, but it felt like a lifetime.
A strong hand yanked me up. Nox shook his head fast. “Don’t do that. You could easily be killed in such a vulnerable position.”
My cheeks heated up. They were probably bright red. My pale skin tended to lend itself to that kind of thing happening. My mother had been a redhead, and although neither Brent nor I had inherited her hair color, I still had the pale, pale skin that showed every moment of embarrassment I ever felt.
“I was trying to be polite. She’s a…princess, right? That’s what you do for royalty.”
Astor laughed. “You didn’t do that to me. Wouldn’t that logic also make me deserving of your bows?”
Dreama hit her brother straight in the arm. He jumped, rubbing the spot. She turned to me, rolling her eyes as if to apologize for her boorish brother. “Thank you for trying to be polite, Bianca. Thank you for trying to be respectful. But we’re very casual here, very uninterested in most protocols. Where did these two dig you up?”
But Mattis didn’t seem interested in a long chit chat with Dreama. He placed his hand on the small of my back and nudged me forward. “Moving along. Come.”
Instead of being offended, Dreama threw her head back, laughing. “What’s the matter, Mattis? Afraid we’re about to get married?”
Was that even a possibility? If so, I didn’t really see what the problem would be. Dreama was strong—clearly a trait that was valued here—and funny, and she seemed to be kind. Why not marry her? I supposed that was something I really shouldn’t ask, given my current circumstances.
Still, she had been nice to me, and Astor had as well. Maybe Torrin wouldn’t be so bad.
I let my guard down just a little and dared to hope this would all turn out to be a short, peaceful, temporary adventure.
Big mistake.
Chapter Three
We found Torrin, the leader and de-facto king of the City-State, sitting on a throne made of bones with heads hanging all over the room, like some kind of shrine to death. My worst nightmare could not have made up such a scene. This was the man who would decide my fate? For a second, I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, and I rubbed it, fast. The pain lessened, but the man who sat on the throne of bones, leaning forward so that his elbows were on his knees, didn’t miss the movement. If anything, he was even more intimidating than his gory, barbarian throne, with an aura of power that made me want to either whimper or run. Or just keep looking at him, because for all his imposing presence, he was also incredibly attractive.
His dark gaze seemed to track me instantly.
I doubted he ever missed anything. Like his brother and sister, he had jet-black hair, but unlike his siblings, his eyes seemed to match.
The room wasn’t solely decorated with heads. There were also weapons and bones piled around and a cage in the corner. Empty, but still…a cage. What kind of leader sat on a skull throne and kept a cage handy?
“Nox.” Torrin’s voice boomed through the hallway. Although he addressed Nox, he continued to stare at me. Shivers ran through my body, followed by a heat I couldn’t make sense of. What was wrong with me? “I am glad to see you are not dead. I see you have collected a group to come visit me today. I expected you hours ago, and you know how I worry, my friend. Who have you brought me?”
Nox performed the same introduction he had for the others—my name, where he found me, my “designation” as unclaimed and unnumbered. It was starting to get a little annoying, honestly. I still didn’t know why the number was such a big deal, and the whole notion of claiming ownership of another human person offended my modern sensibilities. But deep breathing, right. These people clearly weren’t modern. Possibly weren’t even sensible—exhibit A, this room full of weapons and skeletal remains.