Chapter 29

The sack they had put over her head was musty. She kept feeling like she was about to choke, which made her feel panicky and helpless. Why was I so reckless? she thought. The same question had gone around and around in her head so many times since her capture.

Rough hands pulled her from her seat. Her arms had been bound behind her back, and her bonds pinched horribly as she was pulled along.

She was led for a short distance and then forced down into another seat. The hood was yanked from her head, letting in bright light and forcing her to blink until her eyes could adjust.

Once she focused, she found herself sitting behind a large bare desk. On the other side, a Jorvlen general sat staring at her.

"I just wanted to have a look at the face of the woman who has handed me Zyair, prince of Lorr, on a platter." He smiled.

Layla's heart stopped beating for a second. That was exactly what she'd done. Wasn't it? Dammit.

"The king of Lorr will pay dearly for the life of his son. You will be praised throughout the Jorvlen army as the person who made that happen." The general leaned in as he said this. "And I will get promoted. All thanks to you."

She wanted to reply with something cutting. She wanted to spit in his face. To defy him and deny him, but every word he said was true, and she knew it. She had nothing to throw at him. She felt as weak as a kitten without claws. So, she kept her silence.

"Got nothing to say?" barked the general.

"Please don't hurt him," she replied.

"Oh, I don't think you're in a position to make that request. Do you?" The general shook his head.

She was trying to be strong. She didn't want him to see her in tears, and she tried her hardest to hold back the dam. Still, they overflowed against her will.

"I'm so sorry, Zyair," she whispered between sobs.

That made the general laugh. He opened up his comm and set it to record. "Come on then, sweetie. Send a message to your lover."

"Zyair." She paused. "If you can hear me, run. Save yourself. I'm so sorry." Her message was interrupted by the general cracking her in the face with the back of his hand.

"None of that!" he roared at her. "Don't try to get clever now! I want you begging him to come to you."

Her face stung, and her stomach felt tight. A wash of fear for her unborn child flooded over her. She didn't have to act. "Zyair, help me please. I need you! Hurry!"

"Now that's better," he said. "Guards, take her away!"

She was dragged sobbing from the room. They didn't bother to put the hood on her again. They just took her to the room next door, which was used as a holding cell, and threw her inside. The door closed and locked behind her with a certain finality.

"Shit!" she screamed at the walls. "What have I done? What have I done?"

The room was completely bare. Nothing to throw at the walls. No way to smash the door down. She threw herself into the corner, burying her face in her hands.

Her cheek was starting to throb. She could feel it swelling, but she didn't care. She was in a world of torment. What would they do to her love once they captured him?

The necklace she wore around her neck knocked against her hand as she raised her head. She gave a little gasp, holding it between her fingers. A flare of hope flashed through her. The tracker! Of course, Zyair would know exactly where she was. She was so relieved they hadn't taken it from her when they had confiscated her weapon and her comm.

"Zyair. Oh, sweet Zyair. Please don't give yourself up for me," she said quietly to herself. "Get us both out of this, and I swear, I'll never disobey you again. I see now why you didn't want me involved."

She knew her hindsight was useless. She had been such a fool. She had remembered only the parts of their last mission where she had helped. Like sneaking in and getting the dockworkers' uniforms. She had failed to realize how vulnerable she would be going solo with no backup.

Zyair had had years of military training. He knew what he was talking about. But she had thought she knew better. Thought she could show off and get the stone before him and his crew of trained warriors.

She knocked her head back against the wall she was leaning on. "Layla, you're a fool," she berated. "What on Earth were you thinking?" She balled her fists, desperately trying to stop herself from crying again. But it was no good. The tears coursed down her face.

It was some time before she calmed the flow and her shoulders slowly quit their shaking, her tears spent. She felt hollow and exhausted, but somehow, she also felt a little better. She sniffed, drying her face on the oversized safety suit she was wearing.

"I'm sorry, my little one," she said, caressing her stomach. "At least I managed to keep you a secret from them." She couldn't imagine what that beastly Jorvlen general would have done with the news that she was pregnant with Zyair's baby.

"Daddy will come and rescue us. Don't you worry. He'll be here with his big strong arms and show that nasty general what's what!" Layla found talking to her baby soothed her own frayed nerves. She hoped she was telling her darling child the truth. That Zyair would burst through the door at any moment and carry them away to safety.

She looked at the funny rubber gasket that she wore on her wedding finger. It suddenly seemed like a long time ago that Zyair had placed it there, promising to marry her on their return. Is that likely to happen now? she wondered. Or are we both gonna be Jorvlen prisoners when little "Zyaila"is born? Another bargaining chip to taunt King Vrondo with.

A new pain hit her. What if he's killed or injured trying to rescue me? she thought. Maybe she should discard the tracker now, she wondered. Then he wouldn't get hurt. One stomp of her boot would keep him safe.

She wasn't sure if cowardice or sense kept her from destroying the tracker. All she knew was that she wanted him there with her desperately. She hadn't trusted his judgment before when he'd left her behind on the Top Asteroid, and that hadn't gone so well. So, she decided she should trust his judgment now. It was up to him whether to come and rescue her or not.

Layla curled up in a ball on the floor, her arms protectively crossing her stomach. She felt washed out after all the adrenaline and tears. She kept playing over and over what the general had said about her handing him Zyair's head on a platter. "Please be safe, my love," she crooned as she drifted off to sleep.