He wanted to believe he was like his father—wise and strong—but he’d trained as an assassin. Ruthlessness, single-mindedness, and dedication were as much a part of him as his flesh and bones. It was who he was.
Those who knew his father would have expectations. Ones he wasn’t prepared to fulfill, wasn’t sure he wanted to. His only goal was his personal freedom.
No man is free.
“Be quiet, old man,” he muttered. After years of silence, why was he remembering these things now?
Because his life was almost his own for the first time since childhood, and he was home. The longer he spent here, the more familiar it became.
The sun wasn’t quite at its peak when the settlement came into view. They’d gone around in circles, backtracking several times. Seemed Qasim’s trust only went so far. Zaxe’s respect for the man grew.
This wasn’t a ragtag camp of ruthless men but a thriving community filled with women and children, young and old. Many waved as they slowed and continued through the main street. All of them stared at him and Jamaeh.
An icy cold shard pierced his soul. Whatever happened here would change the course of his life. It was a deep knowing, as if some god had tapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear.
He gripped the handles of the sled tight, staying on course instead of turning back. There was no retreat, only moving forward. Besides, Jamaeh had to be exhausted. Neither of them had slept last night nor had they had much the one before. Added to the journey through the hot desert, it was enough to make the strongest long for a meal and a rest.
They followed Qasim to a small stone dwelling. Most of the homes were cobbled together from various materials, but some were made of bricks, crafted using the desert sands, of which there was plenty.
He killed the engine of the sand sled. The hum was replaced by the murmur of voices and the sounds of the animals populating the town. Keeping his back to the wall as he dismounted, Zaxe charted the quickest exits from the settlement if they had to make a run for it. The group gathering seemed more curious than hostile, but there were men with hard, weathered faces and suspicious eyes throughout the group.
“I have brought guests,” Qasim announced with a flourish. “We will feast tonight.” A cheer went up. Several older women rolled their eyes, no doubt wondering how they were going to accomplish that task in a matter of hours.
Some of the tension flowed out of him, but not much. They were in a precarious position, their very lives depending on the whims of their host.
“You will stay here,” Qasim informed him. “Jamaeh will bunk with the single women.”
“No.” On this, he would not bend. “She stays with me.” Without him having to ask, she strode over to stand beside him in a united front.
The women in the crowd suddenly didn’t seem so welcoming. Some of them frowned, whispered behind their hands, and pointed. Jamaeh kept her chin up and her eyes forward. What was the problem?
“That is most unusual…” Qasim stroked his beard, something he seemed to do while thinking.
His brain kicked in. This was all about the customs of Zaxus. A woman stayed with her family or husband. To spend a night alone with a man not related to her cast her reputation into doubt. It was antiquated and offensive. His sisters would roll their eyes in disgust. What were a woman’s choices when she was alone with no family and none willing to help? Jamaeh had built a life for herself and her brother. And from all he could glean, she’d done it alone.
“Jamaeh is mine.”
She went stiff beside him. He only prayed she’d wait until they were alone to yell at him. He removed his sunshades and stared at the crowd, letting his gaze land on the most judgmental of them. “Any insult to her is an insult to me.” They now had fair warning.
“I meant no offense.” Qasim gave them a slight bow. “You are my guests. Come. Come.” He led the way into the small structure. Zaxe waved Jamaeh in ahead of him.
The dwelling was one large room. There was a single bed and a table with two chairs. All of it was mismatched, but the place was scrupulously clean and tidy.
“We have no gel cleansing units, but there is water. I will have some brought so you may refresh yourselves and rest. There are basic facilities over there.” He pointed to a small sectioned-off area with a door for privacy. “We will feast and talk later.” Giving them another slight bow, Qasim retreated, leaving them alone.
He waited until the door closed before pushing down his hood. Expecting her to launch into a tongue-lashing, he was more than a little concerned when she simply sank to the floor where she stood.
“Jamaeh.” His voice sounded harsh to his own ears. “Are you hurt?”
She dragged the goggles and headscarf off and tossed them aside. “What do you mean I’m yours?”
Chapter Eleven
Dirty and exhausted, she wanted nothing more than to fall over onto her side and sleep. The bed was only feet away, but she was sweaty and dirty and didn’t want to soil the blanket.
Zaxe crouched beside her and pressed his hand against her cheek. It was surprisingly cool. Or maybe she was overheated. Having him lay claim to her in front of the entire settlement had raised her blood pressure.
“I won’t have them disrespect you.”
Warmth spread out from her heart. No one had ever defended her honor before. “It’s nothing new.”
His eyes turned fierce and a muscle in his jaw flexed. “It’s not right.”
She managed a shrug, which took more effort than it should. The pack seemed heavier than it had been, so she slipped it off, sighing with relief. She was really wiped out. “Maybe not, but that’s the way things are here.”
“Then they need to change.”
A tired laugh bubbled up. “You volunteering for the job?”
He jerked as if she’d struck him. It would have been comical if it wasn’t sad.
“Didn’t think so. The current ruler thinks things are just fine. If anything, he’s rolled back the rights of women over the past couple of decades. His son is worse.”
“His son?”
Jamaeh rubbed the grit from her eyes. Was there any water? Her mouth was drier than dirt and her water flask was empty. “Samar.”
“The bully from the market?” He leaned down, hooked his arm around her waist, and dragged her to her feet. While her head was still spinning, he all but carried her to one of the chairs.
“Yes. He basically does what he wants. If anyone complains, they end up having even more trouble.”
A knock on the door interrupted them. She drew her blaster, setting it on her lap, using the table as cover. Giving her a nod of approval, Zaxe opened the door. Two men carried basins of water, while several women held baskets. The older of the women gave him a nod. “May we enter?”
Zaxe stepped back and gave a slight bow. They glanced in her direction, then away, seeming wary of them both. The basins were set on a stone ledge just beyond the table. The baskets were set on the ground beneath. “There’s water for washing. You’ll find washcloths, towels, and soap in one basket. The others contain food and drink. Refresh yourselves and rest.”
They left as quickly as they’d come. No one else spoke, but all gave Zaxe a wide berth as they left. “I think you intimidate them.”