Taken (14 page)

"Would you be upset if that happened?" she asked.

"Not for me, but for my clan. I would be letting them down."

He drew in a deep breath and let it out.

"It might be nice personally to have that burden lifted from my shoulders. But when I think that the Delanors would be the ruling clan, I know it would be a very, very bad idea. I can't lose tonight, Lyzette."

"I'm sure you won't," she said, squeezing his hand. "But what happens if you do?"

"I forfeit the crown right then and there. Unless the man who wins takes the trade. There's an ancient tradition that if the man who wins doesn't want to rule, he can ask the ruler for anything."

"Anything? Like he could take your entire fortune?" she said. A rule like that seemed unbelievable.

"Yes, anything I own."

"Weird."

"But nobody ever takes it. I don't know why we don't get rid of the rule. It's silly. Who would accept the trade instead of the crown?"

"Yeah," she said, staring at their hands and wishing he would touch her again. Maybe he thought she was tainted now because the hands of those men had been on her body. Maybe he found the idea of caressing her vile now. Maybe he would get a new consort.

The thought hurt her, but she ignored the pain. What she wanted wasn't important. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she missed it when he asked the question the first time. Mikael had to repeat himself.

"Why are you hiding that book behind your back?" he said, casually.

"You know?" she said. Shit. No one could know. It was her only secret. Her only love. Drawing was the only thing that made her happy. She couldn't have people laughing at it and spoiling it. She hadn't been quick enough to put it away, and he had seen her.

"Lyzette."

"It's mine." Then she remembered that he was her master, and he had asked her about the book. Did she possess anything that was her own? With dread in her heart, she pulled it out and handed it to him.

"Can I look at it?" he asked.

She nodded, not meeting his eye, feeling sick to her stomach. He opened it and began turning the pages. There were drawings from home and new ones at the end that showed her time on Marka.

"Is this what Earth looks like?"

"Some places," she said, waiting for him to laugh at the drawings.

"Wow, this is great!"

She snuck a look at him when he said that. His eyes were wide with amazement. He turned his head to look at her.

"These are beautiful, Lyzzie. You didn't tell me you were an artist."

She laughed, then, a mirthless self-mocking sound.

"Oh God, Mikael. I'm not an artist."

There was a look of disbelief on his face.

"Have you looked at these drawings? The beauty, the feelings that you've captured? Lyzette, if you aren't an artist, I don't know what an artist is."

She frowned. What did he mean?

"They're just some sketches. I do it because I like to. Not because I'm good."

"Well, that may have been true before, but it's not now. You're the real deal, girl. I've seen the good stuff, and I know that this is quality."

She looked at him, confusion reigning in her heart and mind. Was he lying? Was he telling the truth? Why would he say such things to her when he could have said they were terrible?

Then she realized that Mikael was not her mother, and he would not treat her the way her mother would. She would have laughed at her and told her how horrible they were until she had destroyed every scrap of joy Lyzette had ever got from drawing.

He handed the book back to her. She held it to her chest, wrapping her arms around it protectively.

"Again, you don't have to come with me. That's why I wanted to find you. I didn't want you to feel that you had to come to the match."

"No, I want to go with you," Lyzette said in a firm voice. It was a tone she had never heard come from her mouth before.

"You do?" He seemed surprised as well.

"Yes. I want to be there for if you need me for anything."

"You are willing to go back to the stadium where all this started?"

She nodded decisively, ignoring the curl of fear that twisted in her guts.

"Are you sure, Lyzette?" he said.

"Yes."

"But why?" She shrugged. She didn't understand why herself. She only knew that if he were going to have to do something hard, she would want to be there if he needed her help.

"Okay. We'll leave at six o'clock."

Lyzette stepped out of the carriage. She grabbed Mikael's hand this time and looked around her. There were people everywhere, and she felt naked, exposed, and vulnerable.

She looked at Mikael and smiled bravely. She didn't feel her best, but her mother always said that the shittier you felt, the better you ought to look. The compliments would make you feel better, and you wouldn't feel so awful.

Lyzette was wearing a long, clingy royal blue gown that hugged her curves all the way to her toes. There was a long slit up to her hips that flashed a tantalizing glimpse of her leg as she walked. It was all held up with spaghetti straps that were so thin an observer would wonder if the whole thing was going to fall off.

She had her hair done in a French twist and on her feet she wore her favorite type of shoes - high heel. No matter the outfit, she always felt that heels were the appropriate shoe to go with it. Heels gave you stature — both height and status. She knew she looked good, and men's heads were turning as she walked past.

When she spotted her reflection in the doors to the stadium, she was shocked. She and Mikael looked good. Like they belonged together.

Like a couple.

Lyzette had never been a part of a couple. Technically, she wasn't sure if it was possible for a master and slave to be a pair. But they looked like one. She imagined the other women present wished they could on Mikael's arm, just like her.

It was strange. She had never been the object of envy before.

"Come on," he murmured in her ear. They made their way to his private box, and he opened the door for her. "I promise not to jump you this time."

She smiled at his joke but felt a sting in her heart. He wouldn't make love to her in the box. She knew that. He hadn't touched her in days. She wasn't sure if she was his consort anymore. But tonight was not the time for that discussion. She was here to support him in a sporting event that would determine their futures.

The matches began, and they sat side by side in comfortable chairs watching without much interest. They were waiting for the main event. When it was time for Mikael to get dressed, she stood up.

"Good luck," she said. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Lyz," he said, reaching out to run the back of his hand along the side of her face. He sighed. "I have to go."

"I'll see you after," she said.

He seemed reluctant to leave. "I don't want to leave you here alone. I should have thought of that. Jol could have come to accompany you."

"I'll be fine, Mikael, don't worry," Lyzette said. "I'll lock the door after you leave. No one can get in. You worry about the match."

Finally, he left. She saw him running out onto the field, displaying his beautiful chest. She wished things were like they were before, before that night when everything had changed.

The matches went quickly and soon they were down to the last three setups between the Markanor's clan and the Delanor's. Lyzette understood the sport enough now to see when a setup was going to go to Mikael's team or the others. A little twitch here or a step back there would show someone was going to lose.

Mikael didn't lose any. Soon it was down to the last setup and the last pair. The clans were tied, and this would decide their fate. Mikael faced off against a burly man from the Delanor's clan. She didn't see how he could win. They had pitted him against someone bigger and stronger on purpose.

The whistle blew, and they began pushing each other. The man shoved Mikael across his line and Mikael pushed him back. The crowd was silent and tense as they watched history being made. In the future, they'd be able to tell their grandchildren they were present at a historic match.

A gasp went up as Mikael's foot slipped. He frowned as the bigger man gave him a huge push, and he went flying across the line onto his butt. He stared at the man in disbelief. He couldn't believe he had lost. The Delanor's man had his arms in the air and was walking around and stomping the ground in victory. The crowd booed.

Slowly, Mikael got to his feet and put out his hand. The man shook it and then went back to his display of masculine aggression. Mikael began to walk back to his clan's bench. He was in shock.

Lyzette's eyes were full of tears. What was happening?

The announcer came on and announced the winner and that the exchange of power would begin in five minutes. People rushed around on the field and set up tables. Someone brought in a large box that looked like a safe and placed it on a table. Three men stood guard around it with stun guns out.

Lyzette was trying to understand. Losing wasn't how it was supposed to go. Mikael was the kind of person that made things happen and always won. Maybe she was bringing him bad luck.

"And now," the announcer spoke. "The exchange of power will begin. Will the Markanor please take the field?"

Mikael came out on the field dressed in a black suit with a purple handkerchief tucked in the pocket. His face was carefully schooled not to show any emotion. Lyzette wished she could console him, but she didn't know how. She couldn't offer him the small comfort of taking her body since she was tainted. He didn't want to touch her.

He took the microphone and began his speech.

"As you probably all know, our clan has been in power for the past century. Perhaps it is time for a change. I want you all to know that I am honored to have served as your ruler for a decade, and I hope that Marka will prosper under the new reign."

Mikael unlocked the box and took out a massive ceremonial crown. He placed it on his head, and she could see it was heavy.

"Will the Delanor's interim please step forward to accept the crown?" the announcer said.

A man walked out onto the field. He wore a cloak and walked slowly. He seemed old or injured. He grabbed the microphone from the announcer.

"That won't be necessary. The Delanor is here," he said, throwing back his hood and revealing his face.

It was Deese, and he was back from the dead.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Mikael said. He was appalled. Deese was the person who had tried to hurt Lyzette. He ran at him, but the security guards stopped him before he could get his hands on the bastard.

"I'm here because you lost," he said, a victorious smile on his face. "And I won."

Mikael struggled while security held him back. The bastard. How could he be here? Mikael thought it would be bad to hand the crown over to Deese's lackey. It would be much worse to give it to Deese himself.

"Let me go," he shouted at the security guards. "Let me go!" He shook his arms violently, and they released him. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. Then he put his hands on the crown.

"I, the Markanor, do at this moment transfer power to the clan of..."

Deese interrupted him, holding up one hand, palm out.

"I don't want your silly crown," he said.

Mikael was thoroughly puzzled now.

"What do you mean you don't want the crown? You tipped the balance of power. Your clan is in control now. You are the head of your group, so I must transfer the power."

Deese made a dismissive gesture and then looked pained as if it hurt him to move. For the first time, Mikael wondered why Deese wasn't dead. The stun gun must not have delivered a full charge. That was the only thing that could explain it. He had only been stunned. But the amount of electricity he received was difficult for anyone to absorb. It was a wonder Deese could even walk.

"I. Don't. Want. The. Crown." He said. "Pay attention, please. I am taking the forfeit."

A murmur ran through the crowd at this strange and unprecedented announcement.

"What?"

"I want my forfeit."

"All right. Anything I own."

Deese smiled, and Mikael knew there would be trouble. He hadn't finished his revenge, and he wasn't giving up. This man would never stop until he had vengeance.

"I want Lyzette," he said.

Mikael stared at Deese.

"You can't have Lyzette, she's a human."

"She's a slave," Deese corrected. "I believe you registered her at the records office as your property."

Mikael winced. It was true.

"You can't have her."

"I can. I can take anything you own in exchange for the crown, Mikael, and you know it."

"Deese," he said, trying to be reasonable. "You've always wanted to be the Markanor. Think of commanding an entire planet."

The man smiled. Mikael could see he didn't want it anymore. He only wanted to see Mikael suffer. He had figured out Lyzette was the way to do it. She was important to him. He wondered if everyone else could see something that he couldn't.

"The girl. I only want the girl. She's just a slave, Mikael. Get another one. They're a dime a dozen, aren't they? The slave market is full of lovely women."

Mikael faced him, unable to believe that this man was taking Lyzette away from him again. There was nothing he could do to stop him. He was helpless, and it made him crazy. He curled his hands into fists and wished he could punch him in the face. Deese laughed when he saw the movement.

He quickly ran through his options. They were limited. He didn't have any choice. He had to let him take Lyzette and then go after her immediately before he had a chance to hurt her in any way.

"If you don't give me the forfeit, then you're in breach of your crown duties, and the penalty is life in prison or death." He smiled again. "Your choice," he said.

Mikael turned to his box seats, but Lyzette wasn't there. What had happened to her?