Page 10 of Taking Jenny (Planet Orhon #4)

The dining hall matched. A long black table stretched across the room and at least a dozen places were set, though less than half were filled by other people.

A fire glowed at the head of the room, the flames licking the air like they knew a wealth of secrets.

The windows were cloaked with thick charcoal curtains.

The carpeting, the walls—everything whispered of power and danger.

But none of that took my attention away from Malice—dressed in a bespoke black suit—and his other guests who were already seated. By the looks of them, they were not prisoners like us.

The man I had seen next to Justice earlier sat to Malice’s left.

Justice had called him Longshot. As much as I appreciated what Malice had said in the throne room and I knew his intervention was probably why Tiger still had his tail and I was still alive, my heart thundered at the sight of him.

He was just as tall as Sarah’s companion, Deacon, but older than him.

In the lowlight of the dining hall, he was tan with brown eyes and gray hair.

He wore the same brown tunic as in the throne room, but he had accessorized.

I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that his accessory stared back at me.

A long snake coiled around his right arm. I would have been startled, but I was too intrigued by its mirror scales that flashed when the fireplace flames leapt.

At Malice’s right, a Ladrian woman. She, too, was taller than Malice and quite thin.

Her cheekbones were so sharp they could have cut me, as could the look in her violet eyes.

She was draped over her chair, her long legs dangling over the side of it.

She had black hair, braided tight. Her formal gray gown was stunning, but it was her expression that distracted me.

Like Tiger and I were something to be scraped from her boot.

The third and final guest was an oddity.

He was sitting next to the woman but appeared to be shorter than me.

However, he was certainly an adult. His body was extremely muscular, more than anyone else in the room.

He had the same jet black skin as Malice, but instead of a blue shimmer to it, the short man’s was red.

It made him look ominous. His tunic was red, as well.

He was bald and his eyes were darker than Justice Bateen’s.

But when he smiled at me, I relaxed instantly. There was laughter in his black eyes.

I glanced back at Malice, who was staring at me with unnerving intensity. My skin prickled. He wasn’t smiling, not fully, but his mouth curved in a way that made me feel like he knew things. Things about me . Things I didn’t even know about myself.

And Lord help me, my heart skipped for all the wrong reasons.

“Sit wherever you like,” Malice said, waving a hand in the air. “We’re not formal here.”

Right. Sure. This was casual. Just dinner with strangers who could kill us in a dozen ways before dessert.

I nodded stiffly and chose a spot near the end of the table, close to the exit—just in case. Tiger followed, taking the seat beside me. That put us across from the short man with bright, unsettling eyes.

Malice tilted his head and smiled faintly. “Interesting that you chose to sit near the deadliest one of us.”

The short man across from me beamed. “Hello.”

“Hi,” I replied, not flinching. Deadly or not, I wasn’t going to get up now. That would just be awkward and rude.

The woman across the table sitting next to him scowled. “Are you here to eat with us or gawk at us, girl?”

“I was told we were to come to mealtimes, so here we are.” My voice stayed even, despite my anxiety at the situation.

She exhaled heavily, full of disdain. “I don’t like this one, Mal.”

“Why is that?” he asked mildly, his fingers idly stroking the stem of his wineglass.

“She should be more afraid of me.”

Malice laughed. “As should we all.” The tension in the room shifted—sharpened—just before he gestured around the table. “Apologies, guests. Allow me to introduce you.”

He motioned toward the tall man sitting to his left. “This is my friend and mentor, Longshot Griel, the—”

“The sniper?” Tiger interrupted, eyes wide with recognition. Clearly, the other man’s reputation had preceded him.

Longshot inclined his head once. The gesture was quiet, but somehow menacing in its precision.

Great. A famous murderer. And his tiny friend across from me is even deadlier. Awesome.

Longshot looked down at the reptile wound tight around his bicep. “And this is Rhonda.”

I blinked in surprise. “Your snake’s name is Rhonda?”

“She is a strigella , not a snake,” he replied, seemingly annoyed by my error.

“Terribly sorry, Longshot,” I murmured apologetically. What the hell is a strigella? She looked like a snake to me.

Malice’s chin tipped toward the scowling woman. “And this is my friend, Discord Scrylock. If you ever want to know how to destroy a man from his balls to his brain to his ghost, she is the person to consult.”

Discord smirked at Malice. “Flatterer.”

He then turned his attention to the tiny man across from me. “And that villain is Surge Footwick. Watch your wallet around him.”

Surge gasped dramatically and placed a hand to his chest. “Hey! I don’t steal wallets.”

“No,” Malice said, chuckling, “you steal money.”

“I won that bet fair, and you know it,” Surge said indignantly.

Malice arched a brow. “That’s cina waste, and you know it. You cheated. I don’t know how you did it, but I know that you did.”

Surge grinned. “Sore loser.”

Malice grinned back, but there was a flicker of something predatory in his eyes. “Sore winner.”

“So, what is your name, little human?” Discord asked me, her tone edged with something akin to a challenge.

“Jenny Hollinger.”

“You belong to Tiger Orne?”

I stiffened and lifted my chin. “I belong to myself.”

Discord glanced toward Malice, who seemed very interested in my answer, before returning to me again. “I’ve never heard of you.”

“So?” I said, sharper than I’d intended.

She leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “ So , unowned humans are rare and generally, famous. Since I’ve never heard of you, it would seem you are likely owned by someone. Which makes you a liar .”

“I am not a liar,” I snapped.

Tiger’s voice cut into our conversation in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “She only just arrived at Orhon today.”

Longshot nodded slowly. “You’ve had a tremendous first day then, Jenny Hollinger.”

I gave a short laugh. “Uh, true.”

Discord rolled her eyes, as if bored by the conversation. “Fine. Whatever. Are we eating soon, or do you mean to starve us, Malice?”

With a dramatic sigh, Malice gestured toward the opening of the dining hall.

Within moments, a line of silent Ladrian servants emerged, delivering platters of vegetables prepared in a variety of ways.

Nothing looked like meat, which I thought was odd, but then I recalled the same was true when we had a fancy dinner on Halla with Sarah and her companions.

“Are all Ladrians vegetarians?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Our host and his friends laughed. “Not hardly,” Malice replied.

“Certainly not when it comes to Illiapol,” Surge added.

“I keep hearing that word,” I said, frowning. “But I don’t know what it is.”

A devious smile lit up Discord’s face, and I knew whatever she had to say was not going to be good. “Illiapol is our holiday which celebrates the sacrifice of Illiamor, a girl who purposefully died so that her family could eat her as meat and stay alive during a long winter.”

I glanced around at the others in the room, searching for any sign that her description was a joke. I swallowed hard when I found none.

“That’s awful,” I said, my stomach roiling at the thought. “Why would you celebrate something like that?”

“Because, simple human,” Discord went on, “Illiamor’s noble act is why women can now be classed. Her father decided her sacrifice made her as noble as any man. She is considered a hero to many classed women.”

“So, a woman had to offer herself as meat before women could be treated as equals?” The thought was appalling.

Some kind of fire lit Discord’s violet eyes. “You do not believe women are as good as men?”

“No, I mean—of course women are equal,” I said quickly. “I just meant that it shouldn’t take a tragedy for people to recognize it. That’s insane.”

My response seemed to surprise Discord and she almost smiled at me. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“What do you do to celebrate the holiday?” I asked before eating some kind of savory vegetable.

“We eat someone,” Surge said casually.

I choked on a leafy bite. Tiger rubbed my back, fingers lingering a second longer than necessary…which Malice noticed.

When I could breathe again, I gasped, “ What ?”

Discord leaned back in her seat, a smug smile on her face as she swirled her wine.

“If you thought the rest was bad, you’ll love this.

Illiamor ran sixty-five kilometers through the mountains behind the palace searching for food.

But the winter had been five years long already, so there was nothing to find.

She was chased by a pack of seven beasts, each one more ferocious than the last. She survived them, but when she returned empty-handed and knew that her family would die without sustenance, she sacrificed herself to save them.

So now, we reenact the whole thing as a tribute to Illiamor. ”

I stared at her in disbelief.

“She’s not kidding,” Longshot added. “An unclassed woman is chosen. She runs the same route as Illiamor did. Chased and hunted down by Justice Bateen and six others. If she survives, she becomes classed. Her family gains status, money, and honor.”

“And if she doesn’t?” I asked, though I already knew.

“She’s supper for Justice and his cronies,” Discord said simply.

I pushed my plate away, queasy at the thought. “That’s a nightmare.”

“Agreed,” Discord said. “But for some, it’s the only way out of poverty.

If the tribute survives, she, and her family and their descendants, will never need to work again.

Additionally, and most importantly, she earns the people’s favor, which can be even more useful than the rest of it, if that power is wielded properly. ”

I shook my head. “Not worth it.”

Malice tapped his glass with a silver utensil, drawing our attention. “On to better topics. Tiger?”

“Yes?” he answered from beside me, voice tight.

“Are you nervous to be in the capital, considering everything?”

I frowned, glancing from Tiger, then back to our host. “Considering what?”

Malice’s gaze met mine. “Justice hunted the Orne clan during the war. That’s why so few remain.”

My stomach clenched. Could this night get any more morbid? And that wasn’t the version Tiger had given me—but I didn’t blame him. I reached under the table, resting my hand gently on his knee. He flinched at first, then relaxed, warmth flickering in his eyes before he looked at Malice again.

“I’m not nervous to be here,” Tiger said evenly.

“Why not?” Malice asked, too softly.

“Once you’ve lost nearly your entire family,” Tiger said, voice calm but steel-laced, “it’s hard to be nervous about much of anything.”

Malice was quiet as he studied Tiger for a long moment. Then, he raised his glass to him and drank. “I’m sorry for your loss, Tiger.”

Tiger nodded, drinking his wine as well.

“And to prevent any more loss to your family,” Malice continued, “I suggest you both stay within my estate while you’re here. For your own safety.”

I looked at Tiger, but he seemed just as confused by Malice’s comment. I said, “You mean…we can roam freely and we’re not going to be locked in our rooms?”

“You are not my prisoners, Jenny Hollinger,” Malice said, his eyes slowly, deliberately sliding from my lips, to my breasts, then back up again.

“You are my guests. However, not all of my neighbors are so open-minded. They would happily turn you in to the palace for a reward. And they would not be kind about the process.”

I hesitated, but couldn’t help but say what was on my mind. “I thought you were supposed to torture us for information, or something like that.”

That got the whole table laughing—first his friends, then him. His eyes sparkled as he leaned in ever so slightly.

“Are you disappointed?” he asked, his tone dipping into a lower, more husky timbre. “Were you looking forward to chains and cold floors and hungry cinas to nibble off your toes? Or perhaps…are you a masochist?”

My face flushed instantly at the wicked look in his eyes. “No, I just—none of this is what I expected from you.” An executioner.

“Good,” Malice said, settling back in his seat. “You’re in the capital of Orhon now. Never expect anything. Anticipate everything. It might be the only thing that keeps you alive.”

I shivered as his gaze burned into me for a beat too long. And the way he said it—almost like a promise—I wasn’t entirely sure he was only talking about survival.