Free The Outworlder by S.K. Valenzuela Page A

holding her left side. “I think I bruised my
ribs.”
    She grinned at him, but he seemed to be in no
mood to laugh with her.
    “What the hell was that?” Jared turned on
her. “Do you want to get killed? Or thrown into prison? Or
what?”
    “No.” She arched her back and rubbed her
side. “I just want to help you, Jared.”
    “And you think getting in a bar fight with
some piece of dung like that is going to help me? Or anyone else,
for that matter?”
    Sahara shook her head. “You’re all scared,
all of you. And you don’t have to be.”
    “You’re talking about things that you know
nothing about.”
    “Really? You might be surprised.”
    Jared sighed. “Look,” he said. “I don’t know
how things worked on your own homeworld, but here women don’t act
like that. Women don’t play men’s games. And women certainly don’t
stand up on chairs and talk about rebelling against the
Dragon-Lords.”
    “That’s too bad. Might make things more
interesting if they did.”
    Jared dropped her sandals and caught her bare
arms in his hands. “Sahara, we’re different. Did it ever occur to
you that you might learn something from our women about how to deal
with men?”
    “What could I possibly learn from that squad
of goggle-eyed dolls? Except that men here like women who are easy
to push around?” She tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. “Is that
what you want?”
    “This isn’t about what I want. It’s about
people generally. There are effective ways of reaching people, and
then there are not so effective ways. That in there—” he pointed
back at the tavern—“was not so effective.”
    Sahara dropped her eyes, feeling a sudden
rush of something like shame welling up inside her. “Well,
maybe….”
    “You’re going to get a terrible reputation
like this,” he continued. “I don’t want you to be forever labeled
as an outworlder, an outsider…an outcast.” He turned away and
started walking again. “Come with me,” he said. “I’ve got something
you need to see.”
    Sahara picked up her sandals and trailed
along after him, swinging her sandals by their straps. With each
step, the cool stones of the path seemed to draw the heat of her
passion out of her, like poison drawn from a wound. Gazing up into
the hazy sky, she was suddenly and absurdly homesick. With a heavy
sigh, she focused once more on the stones beneath her feet.
    If only she would learn to control her
temper!
    It was Jared’s voice. Sahara’s head snapped
up.
    “What did you say?”
    “What?” He glanced back at her, frowning. “I
didn’t say anything.”
    Sahara shook her head as he moved off again.
She knew she had heard him say something.
    At last the hulking white shape of the manor
house loomed above them, and the path swerved to bring them into
the courtyard by a little arched gateway dripping with white and
purple flowers. Sahara paused and cupped her hand around the tender
blossoms. At her touch, they yielded their softly sweet fragrance,
and Sahara closed her eyes, drinking in the scent. When she opened
her eyes again, she found Jared watching her with that steady,
unreadable gaze that made her spine prickle. After a wordless
moment, he turned and they continued along the way.
    Jared led her straight on, never speaking,
until they reached the door of his chambers. It suddenly struck her
that he had never brought her here before, and she wondered why he
was doing it now.
    “Here we are,” he said, unlocking the door
and holding it open for her to enter.
    Sahara stepped inside, her eyes flitting over
the room and taking in all its angles in a moment. The rack of
swords over the fireplace caught and held her attention.
    “Very nice,” she murmured, moving closer to
the fireplace to examine them. She reached up and touched one, a
viciously curved scimitar with a widening point and a jeweled
handle. “Where did you get all these swords?” she asked over her
shoulder.
    Jared shrugged and went to pour himself