Taken (17 page)

Her hands came up like lightning. She grabbed the knob on the end of the bomb. He saw her fingers turning white from the pressure. Lyzette pulled viciously.

The device ripped out of her lip. There was blood everywhere, but she threw it away. They started running. The crowd turned insane, screaming righteous fury. Lyzette deprived them of an execution.

A moment later, when the bomb hit the ground, there was an explosion that launched them into the hallway. The force hurled Lyzette into the wall, and Mikael ended up on the floor. They immediately got up and started running again. They stumbled but went as fast as they could.

Chaos reigned behind them as the crowd began to riot. They heard Deese howling in a rage since the microphone was still on. The howls could be roars of pain. Lyzette had thrown the bomb in Deese's direction.

When they got to the street, they met police coming in. Lyzette collapsed, and a burly officer picked her up and took her to a waiting ambulance. Mikael made it there under his power, but when he reached the ambulance, the stress of recent events took its toll and he collapsed.

"You'll find the Delanor in there. Talk to Moorlal. He should have a video of everything that happened. It should certainly be enough to arrest him."

The police officer nodded, and a squad of men followed him into the building.

The paramedics already had Lyzette's wound staunched, and she lay on a stretcher. They cut off her leather outfit and put a hospital gown on her.

"Let's go," Mikael said. When the paramedics looked more carefully and saw their ruler, they moved even faster. A moment later, he felt his vision blurring.

"No disrespect meant, sir, but I think we'd better get you both to the hospital immediately and have you checked over. You're both going into shock, and I believe you have some broken ribs."

Lyzette's eyes fluttered open. She closed them again almost immediately. She didn't want to be awake. It was nicer being unconscious. There was no noise, no pain, and no humiliation.

"Lyzette, sweetie? Are you awake?"

It was Mikael's voice. He was alive.

She opened her eyes to confirm what she had heard. He stood beside her as she lay on the hospital bed.

"Lyzzie?" he said, leaning forward and taking her hand as she gazed at him sorrowfully. "What's wrong? Do you need pain medication? Should I call the doctor? What can I do?" He paused and thought about his next words. "The doctor said there were no signs that Deese did anything to you." He seemed worried. She put out a hand and shook her head.

"He didn't?"

She shook her head again.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

She wasn't sure if she was all right or not, but she knew he didn't need to call the doctor. No doctor could help treat the pain she felt.

She turned her head, looking away from Mikael as she felt tears come to her eyes. She had almost buried her emotions while she was Deese's prisoner. She couldn't ignore them when he was sitting beside her.

She loved him, but she was Deese's slave by law, and she could never have Mikael. Even if she hadn't been the Delanor's slave, she would have been Mikael's slave, and he could no more marry a slave than he could cut out his heart. She felt like doing something to her heart; that way, it wouldn't hurt so much to love him.

She turned away and curled up in a ball, pulling the covers tightly around her. The blanket brushed the bandages on her lip. It hurt, but she didn't care. Maybe she could go back to sleep. She wanted to escape. She was tired of everything.

"Lyzette?" Mikael asked. He had to do something, just like a man; he could not wait. He came around to the other side of the bed and sat down on a chair, where she lay with her eyes tightly closed. "Please, Lyz. What's wrong? I want to help."

She flashed back to the night when they'd been waiting to kiss each other. He said he loved her. Didn't he? It felt like a dream. How could she explain what she was feeling? Lyzette swallowed to keep from bursting into tears.

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. When she lifted her reluctant eyelids to look at him, she could see that his eyes seemed bright. She found her voice somewhere deep inside her and dragged it out. She did it for him.

"It doesn't matter, Mikael."

"It does," he interrupted.

"No. The problems of a slave don't matter," she said. "I know you think I'm more than a slave, but I'm not."

From the expression on his face, he didn't like what she was saying.

"We can never be together. I am Deese's property now, and he can do whatever he likes with me. I doubt he's going to give me back to you. Whatever this is," she waved her hand weakly back and forth between them. "Our feelings are irrelevant. Circumstances doomed our relationship from the beginning."

He stared at her.

"Of course. You don't know."

"Know what, Mikael?" she asked, feeling discouraged. She didn't know and didn't care.

He took her hand. "You're not a slave anymore, Lyzette."

She turned her head to look at him sharply.

"What? What are you playing at, Mikael? Don't toy with my mind," she said, frowning. "You told me that the only way a slave could become free is if the slave died or left the planet. Unfortunately, I haven't died, nor have I left the world."

"No," he said, with a happy light in his eye.

She gazed at him. What did he mean?

"You're alive and still on Marka, that's true, thank goodness. But I told you one more way that a slave can get her freedom."

"Well, you did say if the slave's master died, they were granted freedom. But you're alive and well in front of me."

"I'm not your master anymore, Lyzette."

"Oh, of course," she said, still feeling a bit woozy. She looked up at Mikael, unwilling to say it.

"Deese is dead, Lyzette."

"Dead?" she said, skeptically. "We thought that before."

"Well, I inspected the body and watched as it burned. I'm certain this time. He's gone for good. His successor is a reasonable man, who will change his clan for the better, I hope."

Lyzette sat up. Her mind reeled at the sudden change in her circumstances. Her lip was pulsing, and she put her hand up to touch the bandage.

"You mean I could get up and walk out of here, and no one would be able to stop me?"

"You could," he said, smiling.

"And I could get on a shuttle and go anywhere in the galaxy and start my life over?" Her eyes lit up at the thought that she could do what she had dreamed about after her revelation at Deese's house. She stared off into space and imagined getting on a shuttle and flying off into the unknown.

"You could," he said again, a little sadly this time.

"And even you, the Markanor of the whole planet couldn't tell me what I should do. Only me. I would get to decide," she said, feeling a power flowing through her, strong as a river.

"That's right," he said. He looked deflated, but Lyzette was so caught up in her delight at the thought of freedom that she didn't notice.

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. When he looked depressed, Lyzette finally clued in that something was wrong.

"Mikael?" she asked, studying him. He didn't move. She saw something drop onto the floor, and when she leaned over to see what it was, she was shocked to see it looked like water.

She hopped off the bed and knelt beside his chair.

"Leave me alone, Lyzette," he said, and his voice sounded small. "I'm a fucking idiot, okay? Just leave me alone."

His breathing was shaky. She needed to know, so she reached up and pulled his hands away. He turned his face away from hers and wrenched one hand out of her grip to swipe at his eyes.

"Look, just leave me alone, okay? I made a mistake. I see that now. But you don't have to rub my nose in it. I'll buy you a ticket to any place you want, Lyzette, and you can go and make all your dreams come true."

She didn't say anything, but moved closer to him and held his big hand in her small ones. "Look at me."

He wouldn't.

"Look at me, please?" she said.

He turned, and there was still a tear running down his cheek. She reached up and gently rubbed it away with her thumb.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Lyzette. You can't choose who you love."

"No," she said forcefully. "Listen. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't mean to cause you pain, Mikael." She looked away, pressed her lips together and then met his eyes again. "I love you. I love you so much," she said, her voice catching in her throat and her eyes shining with tears. "But I didn't want to let myself. It was too hard to think about our future."

Mikael nodded, and she could tell he felt guilty for her horrible circumstances.

"Those things weren't your fault, Mik. Look at me."

He looked up.

"They weren't your fault. And I see now that they needed to happen."

"Needed to? What do you mean?"

"When I was Deese's prisoner, I realized something. I can control things in my life. I can make things happen. And I can change my actions and the outcomes I get will change, too."

He looked at her in amazement.

"You found your inner strength."

"Exactly. I always thought that things just happened to me. But now I see I can do the same things, or different things and events will be affected."

"Wow," Mikael looked floored. "I see it in your eyes. It's in your whole demeanor. You found your power, Lyzzie."

"Yeah," she said, agreeing enthusiastically. "That's what gave me the courage to do what I did last night. Your spy told me that I could rip it out. I never thought I could do it. I thought if I let you kiss me, you would die. Even though it wouldn't matter too much if I died, I couldn't let that happen to you because I love you."

"Do you mean it, Lyzette?"

"I mean it," she said. "With all my heart."

"Well, then," he said. "Come here." He patted his lap. "Flip over your forearm."

Lyzette flipped it over to show the three interlocking circles.

"You know this isn't only a brand, right? Everyone in my clan has one of these."

"I didn't know that. I thought you only put them on your slaves."

"Nope. The slaves have red circles."

He pulled out a blue tube.

"What's that?"

"It's permanent skin dye, Lyzette. Do you know the color of the Markanor's family circles?" She shook her head as he flipped his forearm over. "Purple." He opened the tube of paint.

"But Mikael," Lyzette said. "I'm not a member of your family."

He stopped and recapped the tube of paint and set it on the bed.

"That's true," he said. "Not yet. Lyzette," he said, taking her hand and tracing his finger around the circles on her arm.

"Yes?"

He took a deep breath and looked deeply into her eyes.

"I love you. Will you marry me?"

She drew in a quick breath. She was surprised. She hadn't expected it. Lyzette stared at him with her mouth open.

"Lyzzie, love? Could you answer? Please?" he said, looking desperately afraid.

"I will," she said, wrapping her arms around him and wishing she could kiss him properly. He kissed her all over her face — everywhere except her lips.

"Lyzzie, I love you so much," he said. "I want to marry you as soon as possible. I want you to be my wife. You can go anywhere and do anything your heart desires as long as you come back to me."

Lyzette sniffed.

"You own me, Lyz, heart and soul. I need you more than anything. I am your slave."

"I need you too, Mikael. My mother used to have this pillow with a saying on it."

"Lyzette, I don't even know your mom, and I don't like her. I don't want to hear what your mother has to say."

"No," she laughed. "Listen. It's appropriate. It wasn't something she said. Someone gave it to her. I don't think she ever believed it. The pillow said: If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was."

"Then I let you go, Lyzette. You're free."

"And I choose to stay here," she said, holding him close. "Right in your arms."

The woman walked through the crowded gallery, barely glancing at the works of art. She was beautiful and had a self-confidence that was obvious to anyone looking at her. This woman clearly knew who she was and her place in the universe.

She wore a black pencil skirt that went to her knees, paired with black high heels. Her long-sleeved shirt was black and stretched over her top, conforming to her body and demurely covering her large breasts. She styled her long dark brown hair in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck.

She conveyed an aura of distinction and more than one woman in the room wished that she had been born so lucky.

In the main room of the gallery, the ruler of Marka started his speech. He was promoting the high-profile artist. The woman's heels clicked more quickly as she increased her pace, knowing she was late. She made her way as unobtrusively as possible to the front of the crowd.

She listened to the speech, smiling a little at some parts. And when he met her eye, her heart sped up a little.

"And now, I would like to open the new art show, Inner Strength. Please help me welcome Lyzette Pauvre, the Markana!"

The crowd applauded politely, and the servers began to circulate again with flutes of champagne and Markan delicacies.

Lyzette moved forward to where Mikael was speaking with a diplomat. Before she reached him, she was accosted by a blonde woman. It was Raimey, and Lyzette barely recognized her. She looked completely different.

"Lyzzie," she squealed. "These paintings are excellent. I'm impressed!"

"Thanks, Raimey," Lyzette said, smiling happily to see her old friend.

A man came up behind Raimey and put his hand on her back.

"This is Gordie," she said. "Gord, this is Lyzette. We were slaves together when she first came to Marka. She's the Markana now."