“Fuck that! How dare you presume something like that?” It had been what I had been fearing. There was no way I could get away from him if he tried to overpower me. He was huge, he loomed tall, muscular, fit, no escape. My heart leapt into my throat and I made fists with my hands, both to hit him and to keep them from shaking.
“No, wait, that’s not what—”
“Just because you kidnapped me, stripping me away from my home planet, doesn’t give you the right to me, ever. You deserve nothing from me. There’s nothing you can do to force me—”
“Daphne, stop, that’s not what—”
“Until you can see it through my eyes, you will not touch me!” I sprinted for the bathroom and slammed the door, locking it behind me. “Get out!” I yelled through the doorway, a mixture of panic and anger knotting my throat so that the cry was choked out of me.
“Daphne—”
“Leave!”
I heard him sigh and then retreat. The bedroom door closed. I sank to the ground, back against the bathroom door. How dare he? He has decided it is time for him to get what he deserves. That was laughable.
No man, ever, would have the right to me.
Not even a King.
I looked around the bathroom quickly and realized I had never noticed how closely the tree outside was to this window…A strong branch reached nearly inside the bathroom. I bet I could climb out and down it, if I had the guts…
I jumped up from the floor and leaned out the window. Sure enough, it wouldn’t be that difficult.
He would likely be sending Delicha in to fetch me for breakfast, unable to take no for an answer. I wouldn’t have time to gather anything else, I just needed to get out.
I reached for the branch, pulled it as close as I could, then stepped out onto its length. I waited for it to break under my weight and then shimmied, crouching low, all along it, until I was close to the tree trunk itself. Luckily, the woodwin trees had many strong branches and I was able to wind my way down it with little difficulty. When I got to the bottom, I crept along the hedges and then fled up the driveway through the fruit tree orchards and out the front gate.
How long would it be before they noticed I was gone?
How long would it be before they wrangled me up and I was back at the castle?
More importantly, what kind of punishment would there be?
I wasn’t sure if I was escaping with the intention to never be found again, or if I was just escaping so as not to be found at that very moment…
I shrugged. The distinction wasn’t so important. I needed some time, unprogrammed by someone else, to try and clear my head and embrace Farian a little. If this is where I was going to be for as long as I lived, however short or however long, I had better find a reason to care about it.
I walked down a few side streets, hovercrafts whipping by overhead, light posts suspended in the air without anchors or stands. Flowers of different striations and hues than I had ever seen lined the walkways. I was starting to get to a busier part of the town. There was an open-air marketplace, stands set up with fruits or vegetables, poultry like animals flapping in their pens to be killed upon command. Skinned meats, still bloody, some with six legs, hung from the roofs of other stands, far enough away from the vegetables to avoid contamination. There were other booths with all manner of goods and wares, from clothing, to kitchen items, to tool piles. It didn’t look that dissimilar from many open-air markets on Earth. The main different was that each person was paying with high tech, clear glass tablets and each vendor was making a tally on their own tablet that projected 3-D images of the market values above the tablet glass. Not only that, but everyone seemed gifted with telekinesis and telepathy. Whereas, in markets on Earth, vendors hawked their wares, loud and proud, these markets were relatively silent. Mainly, the only sound was laughter or an occasional cathartic curse word. The deals were taking place in private, through mental communication. Though many vendors still wore gloves, they also rarely touched their items, but instead used their telekinesis to guide the item into the buyer’s suspended canvas sack.
I wound my way through the narrow streets and stopped as I came around a corner to a statue of Kajo. He was at least 12 feet tall, chest out, hands on his hips, one muscular leg planted on the back of a gruff-looking Bordash man, the previous King whose picture I had seen in their library books. His face was very well-constructed: that chiseled perfection I had started to feel drawn to, but was fiercely angry with in the moment. They even had his scar down through one eye. Not only that, but the stonemason had captured his energy: wild and fierce, untamable, unconquerable. Feral.
There were flowers and baskets of fruits arrayed all around the statue’s feet and he had beaded necklaces piled over his neck. Three women and six men were gathered around him, heads bowed, hands clasped, as though they were praying. A Curan and Bordash woman were crying in each other’s arms as they brought forward candles to place amongst many others.
Six children huddled, pointing up at him. One boy was speaking, brandishing his hands back and forth, as if battling with telekinetic powers. I wished I had a translator with me. I watched as they acted out the battle. One of the other kids had a circle of wire around his head, so he must be playing King Darrs. He flung himself backward, falling to the ground, as kid Kajo thrust his hands at him. The Kajo actor stepped onto Darrs triumphantly, pumping his fists
