It's as Larana said. The garden behind the hall is simply breathtaking. A gentle breeze rustles through my hair and under my dress. The warm rays of the sun, high in the sky, warm my skin. The air is filled with the scent of many flowers, and the birds sing their song.
I stand right in front of a huge flower meadow. A narrow gravel path leads from the entrance of the hall to a kind of white pavilion, surrounded by a few flower beds. From this pavilion, three paths branch off. One leads around the palace, then the path I came from, and the last one leads up a hill.
I follow the path up the hill. Not out of curiosity, but because someone is leaning against a tree with their shoulder. His back is turned to me. His uniform is jet black, just like his hair. I'm pretty sure it's Mak, and as I approach, I recognize him. He seems to be busy looking at the other side of the hill, so much so that he doesn't notice me at all.
"Hello!" I speak to him. Only now does he pay attention. "I was told you were asleep."
"I'd like to, but no one ever lets me!" he says with a yawn. He pushes himself off the tree and looks at me. "Someone always wants something from me!"
"But this time I didn't play with the bracelet," I joke.
Mak laughs. "Yes, this time you were good!" He leans back against the tree, his gaze appraising me. "I didn't think the dress would look so good on you when Malu asked if she could give it to you." A smile plays on his lips.
I'm surprised. Not only because of the compliment from him, but also because apparently it wasn't his idea after all.
"Thank you!" I say with a smile.
"It even looks beautiful on you," he flatters me even more. Now I look at him totally confused.
Mak pushes himself off the tree, walking slowly behind me. My gaze is questioning towards the tree when two strong hands grip my waist.
His lips lower to my ear. "You're beautiful!" he whispers. With his arms wrapping around my body, he pulls me close to him. When I feel his muscular body, I blush slightly. I can't believe this is real, that he's really doing this. Mak is usually so mean to me, even sometimes a real idiot.
Yet his right hand moves from my waist to my cheek. He strokes me gently.
It can't be a dream, but I can't understand or stop it either. I just let it happen.
He gently strokes my neck. A pleasant tingling runs through my body, intensifying as he lays his lips on my neck and kisses it.
He's often a jerk to me, I remind myself. Besides, he's so much older than me. Still, he's a great guy, I have to admit.
Another kiss. Again, a tingling sensation runs through me, and I have to admit that I enjoy it.
Suddenly, I feel him turning me towards him and pulling my body close to his. His lips slowly approach mine, and I close my eyes. God, I almost long for it.
But before our lips meet, he pauses briefly.
"You're beautiful, little one!" I snap my eyes open. Everything inside me screams: No! He's just playing with you!
My index finger presses against his lips, and he pauses again, looking at me in surprise.
"What's wrong?" he asks me.
There's a smile on my lips. "Janine!" I say. "My name is Janine!"
His response is a shrug.
"Why?" Mak asks me. He snorts annoyed. "Who cares about that? You don't even know mine!"
Even though a minute ago I was quite taken with him and enjoyed his kisses, now I just look at him angrily and wriggle out of his arms.
"Mistake, I know your name!" I say angrily.
"How?" he wants to know, looking at me with a puzzled look.
"The twins!" I reply simply.
"I hadn't considered that," he sighs. His gaze wanders down the slope again. "Instead of getting all worked up, be glad that someone as good-looking as I am is complimenting you!" There's a lot of arrogance in his voice. Even unusually much for me. "Do you know what some women would give to have me be nice to them?" He emphasizes the word woman strongly. I've realized for a while now that he doesn't see anything like that in me. To him, I'm just a little, insignificant girl.
I lean back against the tree, looking down the slope.
Behind the hill lies a huge grove, enclosed by a wall, with trees unknown to me. Many men and women are walking around, eagerly gathering the fruits hanging from the branches and bringing them to huge containers.
Mak lowers his lips to my ear. "Our ruler prefers fruits plucked by hand, even though technology allows the work to be done faster," he whispers to me. A broad grin spreads across his face, clearly showing how amused he is by the sight. Although I don't understand what's so funny about the poor people toiling like this.
"Come with me!" Mak urges me and starts walking down the slope. "I'll just check how they're doing down there, then I'll take you to your mother."
I follow him.
Here, the fruits are being gathered, from which I've already tasted and which he's supposed to take to the station. But I already realized that on the hill.
When we arrive at the entrance gate, Mak instructs me to be quiet. His steps slow down.
Two men are standing in front of us.
One of them seems to be around 60. His hair is gray, as is his full beard. He looks at his younger counterpart with gray eyes. The young man doesn't even seem to be twenty yet; his short hair is brown, as are his eyes. All in all, a really cute guy. On Earth, I'd ask someone like him out on a date right away.
"Jert, if you would work instead of just complaining, things would go faster," growls the old man at the younger one.
The younger one laughs. "How do you plan to do that, Schoscha?" Jert asks his counterpart. "This bastard landed his transporter right in the middle of the square in front of the palace fountain this time! Can you tell me how we're supposed to manage not to damage anything there? The machines are far too wide for that, or should we carry everything there and put each fruit individually into the cargo hold?"
"Just calm down, it'll work out!" the old man says optimistically.
The young man throws the fruits at his counterpart's feet. "Have you even looked at this?" he confronts him.
"Are you planning to throw them into the crates too?" Mak asks the two of them, looking at the fruits on the ground, which are split open. "Our ruler doesn't like mashed food at all!" The two men turn to him slightly startled. While the old man bows reverently before the warrior, the young man looks at Mak with nothing but contempt.
"So if someone had asked me nicely, I would have parked the transporter elsewhere," says Mak, but he's interrupted by Jert.
"Yeah, probably on the roof!" he snorts quietly, indicating clearly how little he thinks of Mak's goodwill. Immediately, he gets a light rebuke from Schoscha, more than just a reprimand, on the back of his head.
"If such a pathetic slave like you calls me a bastard..." Mak almost looks down on the younger one. "...then I certainly won't do you any favors!"
"Why all this?" Jert demands to know from Mak. "If you have a problem with me, you don't have to punish the others for it!"
"One man's work would have taken too long for our ruler!" Mak shrugs unaffectedly.
"And why does he listen to a fighter of all people?" the younger one wants to know.
Mak's look makes me smile a bit. He looks innocent when he gives his answer. "It wasn't me at all, it was the evil Kaia." He looks into the confused face of his counterpart and laughs loudly. "I merely made the suggestion to her. But when she heard your name, she was absolutely thrilled."
"Damn bitch!" Jert snarls almost inaudibly but loud enough.
"Yeah, she doesn't like it when you reject her in public," Mak laughs. "Especially from someone like you."
He stops a woman passing by with a basket full of fruits. Mak takes two fruits from her, offering me one. An offer I don't refuse.
He takes a bite of his fruit and continues talking with a full mouth.
"So, if you don't be quiet, I suggest she asks our ruler to bring a few more male slaves to the station for her. I think she'd be happy to have you."
When did I ever believe he was a nice guy? I wonder. I step back. The way Jert looks, this could end pretty badly. The only question is for whom.
"Shut up, you stupid boy!" orders Schoscha, who apparently suspects the same as I do. "Do you want to cause us even more trouble than you already have?" He turns to Mak. "Please, sir, just ignore him."
"Well, I actually think the idea of a personal slave for Kaia is quite nice," Mak remarks. The younger one's eyes narrow, and he looks at the warrior full of anger. He clenches his hands into fists, trembling with excitement. "What do you think about it?" Mak takes another bite of the fruit.
That's too much for the younger one. His fist tries to hit the warrior's face, but narrowly misses as his opponent skillfully avoids the blow.
Jert tries again, but once again, Mak dodges the attack skillfully. He even tops it off by smashing the fruit in his hands on the head of his opponent.
Parts of it fall to the ground. Fruit juice flows over Jert's face. He pauses the attack for now.
"Some women swear by such hair treatment," Mak taunts and laughs.
Jert runs his hand through his hair to shake off the remaining pieces of fruit. His eyes are full of hatred for the warrior.
It doesn't take long for his fists to try to hit the other's face again. Again, he fails due to Mak's reflexes.
But after a while, he doesn't let the younger one come close enough to hit him anymore.
I've already seen in the transporter what Mak can do; now I get another little insight into it.
Mak's blows hitting the younger one are targeted and effective. Just a few are enough, and his opponent goes down panting.
"Damn bastard!" the younger one yells and tries to get up, but fails.
"How do you, you little wretch, think you can beat someone like me in combat?" Mak laughs and looks down at him from above.
Jert tries to get up again. Immediately, Schoscha squats down next to him.
"Let it go, kid!" says the old man calmly. "Someone like you will never defeat a warrior."
"You can try your luck when I'm an old geezer," Mak calls. He walks away slowly. He mutters quietly, "If that ever happens."
I don't understand what he means by that, but right now I'm not thinking much about it anyway. I'm just looking forward to seeing my mother again soon.
I cast one last pitying glance at the two men, then I follow Mak.