Page 11 of Wanted by the Alien Warden (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides #4)

11

RIVVEN

I balanced the empty glass on the blunt end of my right wrist and I polished it with a spare rag in my left hand. The push and pull of the fabric across the glass’ surface removed layers of dust and revealed more and more of my wrist and forearm within. Pale blue healthy hide. Thick arteries and bunching muscle. And the knot of black scar tissue where the wrist abruptly ended, directly below the place where my hand had once been.

Once I was satisfied with the glass’ cleanliness, I inverted my arm, aiming my wrist downwards so that the glass could slide off and stand in the row alongside all the others I’d already cleaned today. The glass landed with a quiet thwunk on the wooden surface of my saloon’s bar. Without even having to look, my tail was already reaching behind me to the drying rack where yet more glasses – washed, but now in need of polishing – were waiting. Sun streamed in through the big windows at the front of the building, illuminating the single rectangular table with its various mismatched chairs in the centre of the saloon.

In some ways, it was an entirely typical morning.

In other ways, it was not.

Because today, the warden had summoned the other convicts in our province to meet him here. It was not unusual for Xennet and Dorn to come to the saloon, or even the warden himself, from time to time. They were the ones who’d eventually be drinking out of the polished glasses and eating the meals I made.

But it was rare for all of us to congregate here on the same day, summoned as we had been by the warden.

“Am I late?”

The chaotic crashing of the saloon’s door being thrust wildly open made it almost impossible to hear Xennet’s question. He careened into the room like a spooked shuldu.

“Xennet,” I said calmly, “why have you got a knife in your hand?”

“What? Oh.” Xennet glanced down at the large blade clutched in his pale green fingers. “It is not just my hand!” Hoisting his tail, he brandished yet another blade, the handle held fast by the curling green length.

With a sigh, I aimed my own tail at the No brandishing weapons inside sign behind my counter. It was one of many such signs, which also included other useful – and where Xennet was concerned, relevant – rules such as Keep your trousers on and No pissing in the glasses .

“You know I can’t read that,” Xennet huffed. He had been one of the youngest among us when convicted and taken from his place at the Zabrian Academy.

“I know. But I also know you’ve got the rules memorized for how often I remind you of them,” I muttered in reply. “If you want to flail your knives around, take them outside.”

“I am not flailing them around,” he replied indignantly, whipping his weaponized tail in a direct contravention of what he’d just said. “I am simply being prepared.”

“Prepared for what? Why are you armed to the fangs for a meeting with Dorn and the warden?”

“Because,” he hissed, crossing the distance between us, his heavy boots thumping across the dusty wooden planks of the floor. His eyes glowed bright white beneath the brim of his hat. “It could be a trap.”

Empire help me.

“You think the warden, our warden,” I said slowly, to make sure I didn’t let Xennet miss even a single speck of the stupidity of what he’d just said, “has set a trap for us?”

I eyed his two knives, knowing he no doubt had more of them hidden on his person. “And if that were the case, do you really think you’d be fast enough with those things to avoid a stunner blast to the guts?”

Warden Hallum had extensive military training. Between that experience and the superior might of his stunner, there would be no contest between Xennet and him.

“What if it wasn’t Warden Hallum?” Xennet whispered loudly. “What if it was someone else, imitating his voice and spoofing his data tab’s address? They could be asking all of us to gather here for some nefarious purpose.”

“Such as…”

“Such as… Such as dropping something heavy on the roof and making it collapse on us.” He cast his white eyes up at the beams suspiciously.

“And if this roof collapse were to happen, what, exactly, will the knives do to protect you?”

“Well, I hadn’t thought quite that far. But maybe I could sort of…” He stopped speaking in order to prioritize a physical demonstration of how he might fight off a body-crushing wooden beam with nothing but his blades.

I hissed out a flat breath between my fangs and once again aimed my tail at the sign, this time underlining the No brandishing bit with savage, slashing force.

“Fine.” Xennet’s tail shoved its knife into a sheath on his belt with such carelessness I was surprised he didn’t slice his own trousers right off of his body. “But I’m keeping this one out,” he added defiantly, raising his right fist which still clutched its blade. “I’ll just stop brandishing it.”

“I knew you knew what the sign said…”

“Did I miss it?” Dorn was pushing open the door now, heaving his big, rust-red body into the saloon. His crimson eyes fell upon Xennet’s raised fist. “Isn’t there a rule about knives in here?”

“At least he’s got his trousers on this time,” I replied under my breath, coming out from behind the counter. “No, you didn’t miss it. The warden has not yet arrived.”

Dorn grunted and removed his hat.

“What in the great blue blazes happened to your hair?” Xennet exclaimed. He peered closely at Dorn’s reddish-brown hair, which appeared to have been hacked off at a length just slightly above his shoulders.

“There was an unfortunate incident with an agitated bracku’s antler getting caught in it,” Dorn said. “It was either I cut it off quickly or get gored. And between my hide and my hair, I’d choose my hide every time.”

I breathed through a sudden skirmish in the vicinity of my heart. So much time had passed, and yet the mere mention of an incident with a bracku still had the power to send me cycles into the past. My right hand, long since amputated, throbbed as if blood still flowed beyond the wrist.

“I am not so sure I’d choose my hide over my hair,” Xennet said with a frown, examining the ends of his long, glossy, silver-purple locks.

“You’d rather get an antler through the ribs than a haircut?” Dorn asked in disbelief.

“No,” Xennet replied. “I am only saying, maybe there could have been a better way. If you had a knife in your hand to cut off your hair, maybe you could have subdued the bracku instead.”

“Kill one of my prize bulls to save my hair? Ridiculous,” Dorn scoffed. “I’d choose good Zabrian credits over my hair just as easily as I’d choose my hide.”

“You would not have had to kill it,” Xennet continued with a heavy sigh, as if he were speaking to a simpleton. “But perhaps you could have distracted it a bit. Did you try giving it a little snack? Some of my bulls seem rather fond of hats these days. I have lost three this cycle alone.”

“No, Xennet,” Dorn said flatly, “while doing everything in my power to avoid a raging bull’s antlers, I did not have the presence of mind to attempt to feed it my hat.”

“Well,” Xennet said with a swish of his tail. “There is always next time.”

“It doesn’t matter if my hair is short,” Dorn said, dragging a chair out from the table and seating himself in it. “I have no one to impress out here.”

“Do not be so sure.”

The three of us snapped to attention as the warden entered the saloon. Even Dorn, who’d only just sat down, jumped out of his chair at Warden Hallum’s approach.

Warden Hallum had the kind of presence that could easily fill a room twice as big as this one. And it wasn’t due to his physical size. He was a large male, certainly, but no bigger than bulky, broad-shouldered Dorn. It was in the way he carried himself. Every move he made was one of precisely measured power, his steps controlled and quiet and yet heavy with intention. His spine was so straight I sometimes wondered if it had been reinforced with some sort of metal, maybe after an injury during his time in the Zabrian Guard.

Warden Hallum’s grey eyes scanned the space, not missing the slightest detail.

“Xennet.”

Xennet straightened up.

“Put that knife away.”

While I could not say that Xennet followed the warden’s orders with anything close to enthusiasm, at least he finally listened this time.

Warden Hallum watched Xennet for a moment longer, as if to make sure the younger, green-hided male was not about to sneakily pull his knife back out when he wasn’t looking. Once he appeared satisfied that Xennet was not going to do anything characteristically idiotic, Warden Hallum drew out his data tab.

“These,” he said without preamble, spinning the screen of his device around to face us, “are human females.”

The three of us stared. Five unmoving faces smiled back. An image of some sort. Not a video or live call.

Without meaning to, I found myself leaning towards the warden’s screen with great interest. Dorn, Xennet, and I did not have data tabs with functioning screens. Without visual capabilities on our devices, we hadn’t seen any faces but each other’s for many cycles.

The faces of the human females were familiar in shape, though smaller and much softer than a Zabrian male’s. Their hide ranged in colour from the lightest beige to the darkest brown, and their hair came in varying textures: some straight and fine, some tied into dozens of braids, some spiralling from their scalps in dense, dark clumps.

Humans.

My throat felt strangely dry. My tail was tense on its hook.

They are very…

“Pretty,” Xennet breathed, leaning so far in that he blocked my view. I glared at his stupid purple-haired head and jabbed him in the ribs with my tail until he grudgingly moved back to his place. Maybe I needed to make another sign…

I glanced at Dorn. He hadn’t said anything yet, but his eyes had gone from their usual red to a hotly blazing white.

“Why are you showing us an image of these humans?” I asked the warden. Warden Hallum was a hard man, but he was fair. He was not in the habit of joking or teasing or dangling beautiful things – or females – in front of us when he knew that we could never have them. I did not think he would show us five strange, lovely faces on his screen if he did not have an important reason to do so.

“Because,” he answered in his deep, authoritative voice, “if you do everything I say and act like the men I know that you can be-” He gave Xennet an extra meaningful look. “-then you may get to marry one.”

Silence devastated the room, as sure as a stunner’s blast. My ears rang.

“Marry,” Xennet finally sputtered.

Dorn’s eyes even whiter than before, if that were possible.

I raised my left hand in front of my face and saw the telltale white glow of my own gaze reflected on the pale blue hide there.

Shaking. My hand was shaking .

I forced it into a fist and dropped it.

“ Marry, marry?” Dorn choked out. It sounded like he’d attempted to swallow a spoonful of dust before speaking. “As in, marriage ?”

“Of course,” Warden Hallum replied. “What other sort of ‘marry’ would I be speaking of?”

Something foreign, something I barely recognized as hope came to life inside me. I promptly strangled it and said, “The empire would never allow it.”

“The empire has already allowed it,” Warden Hallum replied. And then, unbelievably, he added, “The program was already gotten underway in Warden Tenn’s province. Three human brides have been settled among his men.”

“Three?” Xennet exclaimed. Suddenly, one knife was back in his hand, the other clutched by his tail, rules about brandishing all but forgotten. Or happily ignored. “There are three of us here! Why did the females not come to our province first?”

Xennet did not wait for Warden Hallum’s reply. Instead, he marched furiously towards the door, as if he planned to walk himself all the way to Warden Tenn’s province with nothing but his boots, his knives, and his own uniquely unstable form of optimism.

He did not even make it to the door before Warden Hallum’s tail shot out and seized upon the metal hook on the back of his belt. Xennet stumbled, and then attempted to yank free.

“Don’t make me pull my stunner,” the warden barked, authority suffused in every word. “Put your blades away and return this instant, Xennet, or I promise you that I will lock you up somewhere even you cannot escape from when the human Tasha arrives.”

Xennet’s body twanged into tense stillness before he exploded into motion, sheathing his knives and sprinting back to the centre of the saloon.

“One is coming here?” he asked, his voice practically vibrating.

“Yes. She is coming here to judge you all. You must pass her tests.”

Oh.

Oh no…

“What sort of tests?” I asked. Grimacing, I noticed how my handless wrist felt suddenly heavier than it should have. I glanced around the saloon, then at the loft above that served as my sleeping quarters. Would a human female even consider living in such a place? Unlike Dorn and Xennet, I didn’t even have my own herd. I had shuldu and gardens and the land around the saloon, but no real ranch.

“Yes, what sorts of tests?” Xennet echoed frantically. “I am very good with knives. Tell her that I am very good with knives!”

“Don’t pull them out again,” Warden Hallum growled in warning as Xennet reached to do it. “If they want to know about your knives, then they will ask.”

“They?” I asked, my attention snagging on the word.

“Warden Tenn will be accompanying Tasha here. She is currently with him in his province. They will arrive here in a few short days. And I emphasize short ,” he said with extra force, “because there will be no do-overs and there will be no second chances. We must be ready.”

This was not surprising. Second chances had never been an option in any facet of our lives. It was a lesson we had all learned as children when we’d been sent here in the first place.

“We will be,” Dorn vowed with brutal determination.

“Of course you will be,” Warden Hallum agreed. “I will accept nothing less.” He held up his data tab once more, but this time it displayed a wall of text. “Warden Tenn has sent me a document replete with knowledge on the human species, their cultures, and their various marital customs.”

“Too many words,” Xennet hissed, baring his fangs and recoiling. “And we do not even have our own screens to read from!”

“You will use mine,” Warden Hallum explained. “We will meet here after your chores are done, every night until the human liaison’s arrival. We will study the text together.” His grey gaze went dangerously narrow. “And I warn you now that Tasha will not be the only one with tests.”

Xennet looked suddenly depressed. Dorn looked grimly resolute.

What I looked like in comparison, I could not say. I could barely untangle the feelings rioting through me now. Anxiety and shock and, blast it all to Zabria and back, there it was again. The one thing I’d taught myself, forced myself, to never acknowledge. To never accept.

Hope.