Queen's Man: Into The Inferno

"My Queen, may I speak?" Aarvan interrupted. "This is not your affair. You may not speak." "I insist, My Queen." "Insist? You are queen’s man. You do not insist. You will be silent!" "No, My Queen, I won't." The queen stared into determined blue eyes. She rose, face set, spine rigid. "Aarvan, come!" She stalked toward the exit. Aarvan rose and followed. Eight guards followed him. The queen halted halfway across the lunchroom then turned. Aarvan stood relaxed, eyes and face calm. Damn the man. How can he be so calm? What will make him show proper respect for his queen? Fury seethed in Rejeena as a kettle boils. "I could not credit my ears in hearing. Do you not fear punishment, Aarvan?" "Yes, My Queen, I do." "Then why do you strive to taste of it?" "I seek fairness for that holdee." "You are queen’s man. Our fairness, laws, punishments are not your concern." The fury frothed as heat waves pushed toward the surface of her skin. The queen’s face flushed, her teeth clenched and a vein pulsed at her temple. "Fairness must concern everyone, My Queen." The queen walked close and struck him on the chest with the heel of her hand. He absorbed the blow, motionless, hands at his sides. The queen’s voice cracked like a whip. "Aarvan, I have been patient with you. But you constantly try me. Today you interrupted your queen. Then you flouted me, in public, in hearing, before my subjects. That is intolerable. I can no longer dismiss or overlook your blatant defiance and disobedience." The queen paused, sucking in deep breaths. Aarvan said, "My Queen, I regret that happened in public. I had to interrupt to gain your attention, and defy you in order to speak. A man's life depended upon it." "This is not your concern. I will not hear your words." "I’ve made it my concern." "You continue to defy me?" "I'll do what's necessary to make you listen." As a lidded pot, the fury in Rejeena’s heart boiled over. Her voice quivered, hand thumped his chest repeatedly. She yelled, "You have earned punishment, Aarvan. I swear by LaSheena, if you say one more word about this, you will taste of locchot today." She crossed her arms, chest heaved, green eyes skewered him. Aarvan took a slow, deep breath. The queen and the law are so callously contemptuous of the rights, the life of the holdee. Who are these despotic women to decide men have no value? Rut them! "I don’t accept your order. I’m a man. I will be heard." The queen glared. Head back, chin lifted, she said, "Very well, Aarvan, your queen will listen, then tell you the cost." He paused. "My Queen, that woman is a targeetha. Her holdee has a problem he can’t control. She refuses to use his simple solution. She states she can’t afford another holdee, then demands severe queen’s punishment, which could kill him. The woman lies. Her problem is not kruets.” He sighed and continued. "My Queen, that holdee tries to please his mistress. She can’t . . . she won’t be pleased. You saw his condition, beaten into submission and skinny as a wharf rat. She’s made his life intolerable. He even asked you to put him to death to end her hold. That’s the request of a man who has lost all hope. That woman wants to torture him under the guise of punishment until he dies. Then she’ll seek another holdee that she can punish." Rejeena recalled her matching thoughts during hearing, but she held her face implacable. "Is that it, Aarvan? You have said nothing I did not know." He frowned, mouth tightened. "My Queen, I’ve accused your society of being merciless, unreasonable on certain subjects. But I’ve never felt that your actions and laws were based on cruelty without function. Each act, each law, has a value, a purpose. It’s a means to an end, necessary to maintain your society. “What this woman does to her holdee is not discipline or punishment. It’s pure, unadulterated torture for her perverted pleasure. If you recognize this, My Queen, and lend your queen’s power to her brutal game—then you’re no better than she is." "Is that all, Aarvan?" "Yes, My Queen." "You will receive fifteen strokes with the kit paddle to be administered immediately." Aarvan’s stomach lurched and his muscles tightened. The queen acted as could be expected. The idea, now a reality, of being punished for simply speaking his mind sent hot and cold bursts through his chest. He thought of locchot. The skin flayed from the body, outraging sensitive nerves, the agony. Does she think I’ll be quiet, sink into the background if beaten? Who does she think she is? To think she can punish me like a disobedient dog. The rage, which lived within him, whispered. “Attack. You can take them. Don’t allow this.” It told him how to defeat eight guards. He believed the voice, believed he could best eight guards. He understood finally the mayhem this rage could create. The man in him answered. I know we could, but I won’t. There are eight. We’d have to kill. I won’t—I can’t kill them. This time we have to do it my way. For the sake of the holdee, he hoped his argument impressed the queen, though her frigid eyes and imperious stance didn’t offer encouragement. He inclined his head. "As you wish, My Queen." "You will go now, Aarvan." "Yes, My Queen." He started to turn then stopped and looked at the queen, who stood unmoving. "My queen will not watch?" Her chin snapped higher. "Your queen chooses not to do so." "So, my queen can find the anger to send me to locchot . . . but not the courage to watch?" The green eyes blazed anew. "Aarvan, I will watch. You will receive five extra lashes for arrogance." He turned to go. Definitely not an angel.