Hanna and the Hitman - Honey Phillips Page 0,18

small vial. She let a drop fall into a small glass of liquid, then returned and handed the glass to Hanna.

“Drink this. It will help.”

“What is it?”

“Just a healing remedy. It won’t harm you.”

Hanna studied the strange, white-furred face but saw only concern in the other woman’s eyes. With a shaky smile, she lifted the glass and drank. The cool liquid had a faint herbal taste, and it flowed easily down her throat, calming her still unhappy stomach.

“Oh, that’s much better, thank you. I’m Hanna. Are you—”

“Strax, would it be all right if I showed Hanna the garden?” Zemma interrupted, shooting Hanna a quick warning look.

“Yes, Mistress.” The guard bowed his head, then opened another set of doors that led to a small garden. Like the fountain room, it appeared to be open to the starry sky above, but the temperature was as warm as the bedroom. A high wall surrounded the space, and small decorative lights indicated a path through the greenery. After a brief inspection, the guard bowed his head again and let them enter. He gave Zemma a quick, almost longing look, then closed the doors quietly behind them.

“Mistress?” Hanna asked, wondering if she had misinterpreted Zemma’s desires after all.

“It is a courtesy that the guards offer me. Chotgor allows it because it amuses him.” The bitterness in Zemma’s words was only too clear despite her low voice. “As long as you keep your voice down, you may speak freely out here. I suspect the bedroom is monitored.”

“Njkall sent us,” she whispered. “To see if you want to leave?”

“Leave? Of course I want to leave! But one fighter and his slave aren’t going to be enough to get me out of here. I’m such a fool.”

“Aidon is more than he appears,” she said as confidently as possible, although she couldn’t help but wonder what he had in mind. Guards were everywhere in the mansion. “How did you end up here?”

“Like I said, I am a fool.”

Zemma started pacing along the path leading through the garden, and Hanna fell into step beside her. Despite her concern for the other woman, part of her couldn’t help noticing the graceful design of the garden and the delicate beauty of the plant life.

“I met Chotgor at a party he gave—not one of these parties, but one designed to appeal to some of the more respectable merchants. Can you believe I actually sought him out? I was trying to find out what happened to my brother. He went off world many years ago, and we recently heard that he was a fighter. Chotgor knows everyone on the circuit, and I thought he could help.”

“You went to him for information?”

“Yes. In my naivety, I thought perhaps I could seduce some answers out of him. Instead, he seduced me.” A wry smile twisted her lips. “I actually thought he was exciting. He can be very charming, you know.”

Hanna thought back over the part of the evening she remembered and the male’s booming laugh. She supposed it was possible.

“Did you get the information you were looking for?”

“Yes and no. I know my brother is alive and that he is still fighting. I don’t know if he doesn’t want to return—or if he’s not permitted to return.” Zemma sighed. “There was a terrible argument when he left, but if there’s a chance that he is being held against his will, perhaps I can convince our Elders to investigate. If I get a chance to see them again.”

“You will,” Hanna said quickly, but the other female simply bowed her head and kept walking.

“Where are you from?” Zemma asked suddenly.

“From a planet called Earth.”

“Do they allow females their freedom there?”

“I suppose so, although it varies.”

“The Hothians don’t,” Zemma said bitterly. “Females are rare and precious and treated like these flowers—enclosed by walls and protected from all strangers. It took two years of pleading to be allowed to visit Port Eyeja. Chotgor was the first male I ever met who didn’t act as though I was too precious to touch, and I liked it. He could—and he still can when he chooses to—bring me great pleasure. It wasn’t until after he brought me here that I realized the reason he didn’t treat me as someone special was because he didn’t value me. He’s simply amused by the thought that he has a rare Hothian female in his bed.”

They had made a complete circuit of the small garden, and Zemma slumped down on a decorative bench outside the bedroom doors.