The General part 29 AND part 30

Parts 29 & 30:

“On we go,” the officer tells the visibly shaken party.

I’m shaken, too, but there’s no time to reflect on that. My eyes remain on Vrint. He is the only one that can slam the brakes on the spiral of destruction we’re heading towards.

“Vrint, please. Think about this. You won’t get anywhere. Am I worth your blood?”

“Silence her,” Vrint tells the men as he leads the way.

“Vrint,” I continue when no one reaches for me.

He turns around, and he sees that everyone’s smugness has become smeared. They hesitate to raise their hands and eyes at me, because there was something convincing about Malik’s insistence. He almost looked anxious, and Masters rarely show anything past boredom.

“Go after Malik and stop him from-”

I feed on my blood when he slaps me, my teeth razoring my lip open. I taste like metal and desperation.

Worried that War will appear any second and see the violence dripping from my face, I swallow the blood quickly. The situation is already bad. I don’t need it to get worse.

“Lieutenant, I advise against striking prisoners,” the officer warns Vrint.

A harsh sound leaves Vrint’s throat. “Hurry! All of you!”

He’s hurrying because he knows The General will be on his way soon. It’s only a matter of time before they clash, and there will be no hiding, because this planet knows whose its kings are.

I’m carried over to a carriage made of wood and metal, and I’m pushed inside.

With my blood-caked teeth, I ask Vrint, “Are you trying to kill me as soon as possible because you know you’re screwed either way?”

The door is slammed in my face, and the carriage jolts. They didn’t bother to chain me, because they know I’m no physical threat. It’s my influence they should be wary of. This power over War— one that I never asked to possess, has gotten people hurt before. It will happen again.

I peek out of a creak on the wall and I watch people go about their day— trading, selling, laughing. It reminds me of Earth.

Some stare at the carriage with intrigue. Gossip must be flying like a dust cloud by now, covering all acres of the city. Everyone will know that I’ve been dragged to prison.

I’ve never been to the city’s fort. I’ve only seen it outside, when I used to be a beggar outside its pristine gates. It’s not a man-made palace like the ones from Earth, but rather a mine-style structure with walls that glitter with jewels and halls lit with glowing crystals. At least that’s what I’ve heard. Peasants have no business inside it.

I guess today I will find out what it’s like.

My heart aches from how fast it’s pumping blood, and the cuts at my lip and feet eat at it. I’m dripping everywhere. A mess. Always a mess.

So much for helping the children get past their trauma. They were bonding with me, and then saw me get ripped away by the officers. The poor children lost their parental figures already, and I’ve added to their loss. The only thing I taught them was to trust life less.

The carriage comes to a halt. We’re so far from the humble parts of the city that I no longer hear livestock or smell mud. The air itself is clean and haughty.

The doors open and I’m hurriedly snatched by my upper arms and led inside. My limping seems to irritate them because a younger officer tosses me over a shoulder.

I’ve lost all dignity. Even walking has been taken from me.

I push my hair back and search the distance for Malik. He’s not there. My view is blocked by the closing of the golden gates.

The floor is polished tiles with bits of gold, but the walls are rugged, rocky, and sparkly with bits of priceless minerals.

Instead of being tossed into a cell, I’m dropped on a seat in what seems to be a library. The men surround me, looking down as if I’m something they found and are unsure what to do with it.

Well, everyone except Vrint.

“Call for the Queen!” he orders, his fingers tightly clutching the grip of his sword. He knows he went too far.

“She is at court,” someone answers from outside.

“It is urgent. Tell her Lieutenant Vrint needs her immediately to oversee the execution of the thief.”

“Unfortunately, you will have to wait for tomorrow.”

“NOW, or you die too!” Vrint booms. His hand slips—a messy, rookie mistake that gets his finger cut. We’re both bleeding now, but while mine will heal, his will decompose until only his skeleton remains.

A part of me knows no harm will come to me, but not at a cost. I don’t want Vrint dead. I want him stripped of his titles, medals, and comforts.

Retreating footsteps fill the hall, and they return later with others. I can recognize the Queen’s footsteps. Instead of wearing heels, I’ve seen many rich ladies wear high wedges that are lined with metal at the base to create a loud clanking sound. The Queen wears these. I can hear the metal with every step she takes.

The door opens, and a short, thin, Zolano woman stands there wearing a transparent dress and long hair. She holds a napkin to her nose, as if warding off the smell of the room.

“Is that it?” she points a skinny finger.

The leader of our planet is a puny, cruel, haughty woman.

“Yes, highness.”

“Oh, look how it stares at me. Is it female? I have never seen an alien before.”

“It is female,” Vrint confirms. Of course, the perverted jackass would know. He’s so obsessed with screwing me that he stole my underwear.

“This is the stolen necklace.” He raises the necklace he mailed to me.

This is ridiculous. Outraged, I open my mouth. “Your high—”

The Queen takes a step away from me as if fearful, and her guards snap to attention.

I stop talking. It would only take a single command from this woman to get me killed.

She relaxes. “Where has she been hiding? What does she do?”

“She—” Vrint starts.

“Let her speak for herself,” the Queen interjects. “Tell me your name and your occupations.”

I glare at Vrint and turn back to her.

“I am Joan.”

“Shooan,” she repeats with a similar accent to War’s. The voice isn’t right, though. She lacks his baritone.

“Yes,” I reply. “I have been working at The General’s camp until recently. I was transferred to the city.”

“You?” she frowns. “At a military camp?”

“I was a servant.”

She chuckles. “Of course! Masters are strange, but not to the point that they would fuck a mutt.”

I don’t cringe. I’ve heard worse.

“I now work at the orphanage, and I assure you I never stepped a foot in here before. I stole nothing. Vrint gave the necklace to me.”

She waves her napkin at me and chortles with joy. “How exotic your accent is.”

It’s as if she didn’t hear a thing.

She steps into the room. I remain seated. “Your skin is so… different.” She runs two fingers through my hair, petting me as if we’re in a zoo.

“The ladies of the court would have a ball with you. Come along.”

"Uh—” I stand, confused.

“Your highness, we have to punish her for her thieving,” Vrint insists. He’s fidgeting like the worm he is.

“That can wait. Come, Shooan!”

She takes my hand— wrapping mine in her napkin first so we don’t touch, and leads me out of the room and past fancy halls.

We stop in a room with vast windows and a long dining table in the center. Couches line the walls. This must be some lounging space.

“Sit. Sit. The ladies will have so much fun. How smart are you? Can you read and write?” she seats me on a couch and hovers over me, staring with hungry eyes.

"Yes, I can read and write.”

She genuinely looks shocked. “Do you have any mental defects? Emotionally unstable? Unable to pick up social cues? How are your knees?” she pats my left one. “Can you walk on your hands and knees for long? Oh, we can try collars on you!”

“No. I don’t have any conditions.”

But I’m beginning to think that she does. Is she crazy? She can’t turn me into a pet! This sheltered, bored, condescending Queen will not turn me into a lab rat.

“Delvison! Get the girls!” she yells down the hall.

“My Queen. Can we please speak about the charges pressed against me?”

“Forget about the charges. If you entertain me, I’ll let you go.”

“For how long?”

“Until we get bored with you. Now stop speaking. It is rude to ask so many questions.”

Over the next hour, I’m poked and tugged by four different females who ask me many invasive, degrading questions.

Are you hypersexual?

Can you dance for us?

Do you know how to count?

Why are your eyes the color of dirt? Do you shower often?

Do you know what religion is?

Can you crawl for us?

Meanwhile, twenty guards including Vrint, surround the room and watch the spectacle.

Yes, I crawled. Yes, I danced, because I don’t know how to say no to The Queen that owns my life. I tried to bring up the theft charges and warn that The General was storming to the city, but all she did was shrug it off because “a simple creature” such as myself would never understand a Zolano as complex as The General.

She has dealt with him for years, so apparently only she knows how to appease him.

This goes on for hours. When the ladies take a break to snack, my stomach makes the mistake of grumbling— something Zolanos don’t do. They look at me as if I’m an animal and give me leftovers.

I nibble on a cold sandwich, unable to reject it, and feel like throwing up.

The Queen’s hand stops mid-stroke on my hair when a loud horn shrills through the entire place.

“We’re under attack!” one guard yells.

“By who? What?”

“By… The General?”

Yes, I can see how absurd it is for the leader of the military, the man responsible for protecting the country, is attacking his very Queen.

The Queen stands. “Why didn’t anyone tell me he was arriving? I made no preparations.” She huddles to the door, only to shrink back when the sounds of violence got louder. “He is in a surlier mood than usual…” she observes. “Vrint, why…”

Vrint makes a dash for a door, but I throw a tray of food at him. He’s not leaving. He needs to be held accountable for this mess.

“Stop him,” The Queen says.

“I believe there is no stopping The General, my Queen.”

“I know that! I meant stop Vrint.”

Men chase after him, right as a body pummels into the room like a meteorite seeking the destruction of all of Zolan.

It’s War. He’s naked, as if he was caught in the middle of a bath. The entrance is so dramatic and careless… so him.

I take a subconscious step toward him. I need to close our distance. I missed him.

A lady grips my arm. “Are you suicidal? Stay right there and look at your feet unless you want to get hurt.”

I don’t look down. I don’t have to listen to them anymore.

War’s eyes scan the room until finding mine. He strolls in, and instead of walking around a chair that blocks his way like a normal person would, he swings his broadsword and slices the thing in half, sending wood and female squeals flying.

The Queen, thinking I’m in danger, runs to stand in front of him. “Forgive her insolence. She is a harmless girl. Come, let us go to my throne room where we will discuss what has made you so upset.”

“Why is she wearing a collar, Ulia?” he glowers down at The Queen, who is much shorter than him. If I were her, I would have passed out long ago.

Ulia? Did he just call The Queen by her given name?

“Who, my pet?” she frowns.

The roar that comes from War makes me slap my palms over my ears and guards to charge forward. Malik and a few other masters pour in to keep them away.

War shoulders past Ulia, making her stumble onto her ass, and stomps to me. A single arm wraps around my thighs and lifts me until his face is pressed into my breasts.”

“Calm down. Calm down,” I whisper hushedly as I stroke his hair and eye the room. We’ve become the spotlight.

“Joan,” he groans into me.

“Hi,” I say lamely.

“Where is he? Where is Vrint?” He makes a move to pull his head from my chest, but I hug it back into place.

I want the Queen to punish Vrint for his lies, not War.

“Can you take me out of here? Please?” I ask, lowering my lips to his forehead. There are specs of blood there— blood of another person. I try not to think of it, because soiled or not, this is still War.

“Of course.”

“What terrible confusion,” The Queen interjects. “General, I did not know you were intimate with this female. Let us discuss this in my study.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls.

“Watch your mouth,” one brave, older guard snaps at him.

War lifts his free hand that still holds his blade, as if to throw it. I cling to his forearm for dear life.

“War,” I whisper. “She is still The Queen. You can’t talk to her like that.”

He looks up at me, irritated, and lowers his arm. “Fine.”

“Shall I prepare you two rooms?” The Queen offers.

War glares at her, not fond of the idea of further separation from me.

“One room?” she corrects herself.

"Can we leave?” I whisper. I don’t like it here. There are too many eyes. Too many jewels on the walls attempting— and failing to beautify this ugly place.

“Joan.”

“Yes?”

“I think I love you.”