1. Sloane

Chapter 1

Sloane

I pace the length of the lavish suite, my bare, calloused feet sinking into the plush rug. The softness feels decadent, luxurious—and completely wrong. I'm used to floors covered in dirt and grime.

It's been three nights and two days since the orcs captured me in the forest and brought me to this palace. Three nights and two days spent bored out of my mind, waiting for their king to grace me with his presence and decide my fate.

The waiting gnaws at me. I'm a rip-the-Band-Aid-off kind of girl, so this suspense is fraying my nerves. Each minute that ticks by is another reminder that my life isn't mine anymore.

Escape options? Let's see. My eyes dart to the door, heavy and locked, with an added layer of security: a giant, green guard on the other side who looks like he bench-press boulders for fun. The thought of trying to overpower him without a weapon is laughable, so even if I managed to get the door open, I'd still have that to deal with.

I pivot to the window. Great for natural light and making the place feel like a luxury hotel, but utterly useless as an escape route. Three stories up, the drop would give me a quick, one-way ticket to a broken, well, everything. Even if I survived the fall, then what? I don't exactly have a map of this alien world tucked in my back pocket.

I run my fingers over the intricate carvings on the wooden wardrobe. It's a beautiful piece, the kind of furniture people with money splurge on. Fancy, polished, expensive.

Then there's the chandelier. Glittering with crystal-like stones, it casts geometric patterns on the walls. If it were any bigger, it'd be gaudy enough for a villain's lair. But here, it provides a perfect halo of light over a cozy living area and a two-person dining set. Not that I have anyone to dine with.

The bed is huge, with silken sheets and colorful bedding that looks like it belongs in a five-star resort. After my recent nights on a thin floor mat with a threadbare blanket, I should be sleeping like a baby. But I'm too wound up to get much rest. The softness feels like a trap, a trick to make me let my guard down. My stay here is temporary, and my checkout might involve chains…or worse.

Instead of admiring the paintings and sculptures that probably cost a fortune, all I see is another cage. This one just has a better interior designer.

To be honest, I haven't felt this trapped and hopeless since my abduction from Earth. My mind drifts back to that night five years ago, the memory as sharp as when it happened.

It was just an ordinary fall night during my sophomore year of college. I was walking back to the dorms from the library, mulling over my research project, when BAM! A blinding light shined down on me from above, a whirring noise filled my ears, and my vision faded. The last thing I remember is being yanked off the ground and pulled into the light. Real cliché alien abduction shit, right? I mean, they could've at least tried for some originality.

I can still feel the chill of that night, the terror that gripped me as I realized what was happening. I shake off the memory, but my hands are trembling.

Breakfast is late. These guys operate on a tight schedule. Breakfast being late means something's up.

My pacing turns purposeful as I approach the door again, pressing my ear against the cool wood. A murmur of voices tells me my guard isn't alone, which is unusual. I've been paying attention, and this is the first time there's been more than one orc on the other side of the door.

Until now, a single guard has been posted. He brings my meals and removes the tray once I'm done. Once a day, the guard sends a comms message to Command to report he's leaving, signaling a shift change. Then, there's a brief interval before the new guard shows up to take his place.

I'm not sure why they leave my door unguarded during the change. Maybe they don't see me as an escape threat. But I do. I could use their lax protocols to my advantage. The lapse is a small window, but it might be all I need if I can figure out how to unlock the door.

The guards outside speak in hushed tones, too low for me to hear more than a murmur. That's different, too. I can tell there are three distinct voices. Why is there a group of orcs whispering outside my door? And where is my damn breakfast?

I guess I'm about to find out because the murmuring stops, and a trio of voices calls out a word that makes my gut clench and my appetite vanish.

"Majesty."