Page 42 of Warlord's Mate

The look on his face was murderous though, which made his lipless mouth slash across his face more harshly. When he was close enough to see the fury in his orange eyes, Marcy saw Jityria standing by a cluster of trees, a smirk on her face. That smirk said more than words did. Jityria was going to enjoy watching her get yelled at. Knowing how conniving the heifer was, she probably planned it just like this. Send her out here on some fool errand, then send these two after her for disobeying orders.

“You defy the warlord?” The words were yelled at her, a vein in Darqu’s neck bulging as he closed the distance between them. “His word is law whether he is here or not and no one disobeys his orders. Those who do, are punished and made example of.”

Knowing Jityria, she’d probably already persuaded him to make her scoop out their crude toilet with her bare hands as penance. The satisfied look on her face told her whatever it was they were going to do, it was bringing her pleasure even before the act.

Darqu looked over her head to the alien behind her. Some sort of silent communication was taking place if the look on Darqu’s face was any indication. They were probably deciding her fate.

“Look, I was told to come out here. Cayen needed more of those berry things for that drink he makes.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I dropped the basket but you can see it right behind us.”

Darqu didn’t even attempt to look, keeping his gaze leveled on her instead. “You were not to leave camp alone.”

“I know this. And I said as much when I was told to go but—”

“Then you admit to disobeying a direct order?”

Marcy opened her mouth, then shut it. This was a trick question. She shot a look to Jityria. “Care to help me out here?”

“Help you? When you willfully disobeyed a direct order from the warlord?”

Willfully—oh, that conniving bitch.

“Look,” Marcy said, jerking her arm free from the one holding her. “I only did as I was told. Apparently the message came across wrong so—I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

The words nearly choked her, but she knew the signs of a power trip and this guy was on one. He must be in charge of security now that the warlord was off doing whatever it was him and the others left to do. She threw a look at Jityria and turned to grab the basket but was pulled to a stop by the one behind her. She shot him a glare, noticing a small hint of something that looked like fear in his eyes. She turned her attention back to Darqu. He looked anything but fearful. When he took a step back, she noticed what he held in his hand. Her eyes widened when he raised it into the air.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Marcy jerked away from the one holding her. “Remember the last person to touch me? The warlord will kill you for this!”

“The warlord won’t return for a full rotation of the moons, if even then.” He smiled, something sinister lurking in his eyes. “If he does manage to make it back, any wound I inflict now will be healed by then.”

His words made her go still.If the warlord made it back. What did that mean?

“Jorrick left me in charge and any punishment I see fit to dispense will be as if he himself issued the order so it is not I who does this, but the warlord himself. He forbid you from leaving camp. You disobeyed those orders. You will now suffer the consequences of defying him.”

She clenched her jaw and looked to Jityria. “Stop this, Jityria!” The woman did nothing. Marcy looked at all three of them. “This is bullshit,” she said under her breath before turning to grab the basket. “I’m going back to camp now. Will that make you happy?”

The crack of his whip split the air, the snap loud enough that when the tip slashed across her back, she barely heard her own screams. Pain lanced through her body, her knees buckling from its intensity. She hit the ground, the agony in her back causing her stomach to roll. Another crack of the whip caused fire to race over her backside and she screamed and fell to the leafy floor of the forest.

Every single cell in her body was revolting, her cries the only thing she heard. The skin on her back was split open enough she could feel the hot rush of blood running over her skin and soaking into the cloth wrapped around her waist. The tears came unbidden, and she didn’t even try to hide them. It was pointless. The pain was too intense to even pretend it didn’t hurt.

The alien who had grabbed her arm moved, the leaves and twigs crunching under his boot as he turned and left.

Darqu turned as well. She could tell by the sound of his footsteps as they grew more distant. They left her there, face down on the ground, bleeding from two whip marks. If this was what Jityria had wanted, then she’d underestimated her. She wasn’t out to just get her punished. She was out for blood and Marcy had no doubt the woman would kill her if given the chance. Leaving her face down in the woods was probably Jityria’s way of hoping she’d lay there and bleed out. The way her back stung, she wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t.

The noise of shuffling feet disappeared completely. She laid there and cried until she felt hollowed out. Her entire life since waking up on that space ship played through her head and there hadn’t been a single day worth repeating since. Scenes from the waterfall flashed through her mind. Well, maybe that day but nothing else. Life here was hard and ugly and if she would have been able to make it, she would have stood up and started walking. She’d find Sara and Toren and the paradise they were headed to and forget all about the warlord and his good looks. She’d leave and never look back.

She lost track of time laying there and when the last tear was wrung from her body, she opened her eyes. The forest had grown darker. Dusk had fallen. How long had she laid there? She lifted her head and looked back toward camp. The alien who’d initially grabbed her was standing near a tree not far from her. They may have left her laying, but they hadn’t forgotten she was there.

It took her four tries to crawl to her knees, then stand. Each step felt like torture, the pain in her back screaming in agony with every step. The alien waiting near the trees had the decency to look away when she neared him, his head lowering so she couldn’t see his face.Coward.He’d help beat a woman but wouldn’t look her in the eye afterward.

She glanced at the other females when she was able to see them. They were huddled in a small group around the baskets, their heads down but the look on their faces told her they knew something had happened. Seeking their comfort would have gone a long way to ease some of the pain she felt if for no other reason than she could bitch with them about what had happened but she knew they wouldn’t help her even if she asked. Not today, at least. What happened in camp wasn’t any concern of the females here and she knew the minute she approached them, Jityria would be there ordering them to leave her be.

The walk to the warlord’s hut was agonizing and once she pushed the leather door flap back and stepped inside, more tears slipped past her eyelids.

She undressed slowly, unwinding the material around her waist until the make-shift skirt fell to the ground, then raised her arms, wincing as she untied the knot behind her neck and loosening the material enough to pull it free.

The lack of mirrors on this world was a nuisance, but she’d found a small silver disk week’s before on the table the warlord left his weapons on. She had no idea what it was used for but it was shiny enough to make out her reflection in it. It was a fuzzy, distorted picture, but it was enough to see the two long slashes down her back.

The first started on her shoulder blade and ended at the middle of her back, the other ending at the middle of her right butt cheek. Both oozed blood and she’d never be able to clean them properly.