Page 11 of You're Not My King!

“I guessed that was the case,” Fiona responded, not unkindly, just stating facts. “But the clan is glad you did.”

I scoffed. “Well, great that you guys are happy. Fuck me, though, huh?”

“You may be very happy here,” she said with a gentle shrug and a look of sympathy. “Happier than you were on Earth, perhaps?”

I didn’t answer, mostly because I couldn’t find it in me to admit that she was right. I thought about my sad excuse of a life, and yeah, it wouldn’t be hard for this new existence to be better, but still. I’d barely managed to escape one hell. The last thing I needed was to be enslaved to another.

“Maybe,” I mumbled. I didn’t fancy getting into a verbal tussle with my only ally. That seemed counterproductive. “So you’ve not seen another human for eight years?”

“Oh, no, I see humans all the time. I travel from clan to clan, if they are in need of healing and such.” We strolled past a small campfire with logs positioned in a circle, and some type of meat already roasting over the flames. Fiona guided us around it, ignoring the heckles from some of the gathered lizard dudes.

Where is she taking me?

“And when we get visitors, they sometimes bring their humans,” she said.

I blinked. “That sounds…” Unethical. “Lovely.”

She clicked her tongue, looking sheepish. “I know, I know. That came out wrong, but… hey, do I look badly treated? I’m respected here—way more than I was in the hospital I used to slave away at, day and night, for peanuts. Sure, I love helping people, but not when it comes at the cost of my own health and well-being.” I couldn’t argue with that logic, not that my opinion mattered, and she didn’t stop long enough for me to give one. “And from what I’ve heard from the others, they are in much the same situation. We’re treated as a rarity; a treasure. Useful and needed. Not a burden or a pet, though it may feel like it right now.”

“So… I’m not a slave?”

She snorted. “Is that what those buggers told you?”

By “buggers,” I was guessing she meant A&R. Fiddich had been pretty clear on my new situation. “Um, kinda. Yeah?”

She sighed, shaking her head. We’d ended up in front of the farthest away hut, the one with bunches of oddly shaped herbs hanging from its beams, and carved torches lit outside—not ominous at all. Fiona held the pelt flap open and signaled me inside. “Come on in. I’ll explain everything.”

I hesitated.

Was this whole nice-neighbor welcome routine a ruse to catch me off guard? Would I step inside only to be cornered by more aliens and shoved in a cage? That was how a lot of serial killers operated. Fake charm. It was no secret that I was wary of people, and I had every right to be, so I continued to hover there, debating. Should my gut instinct, which said Fiona was harmless, be trusted? Or should I exercise caution and refuse?

Would I even have the choice?

Fiona must’ve sensed my uncertainty—I wasn’t exactly subtle—because she smiled. “It’s just my workshop, lovey,” she said. “It’s safe.”

What exactly did I have left to lose?

Your fingers and toes, the voice in my head snarked.

I exhaled sharply and ducked inside.

Of course she hadn’t been lying. What would she have to gain, really? The tent was filled with wonky bookcases, all lined with bowls and ingredients—for medicines, I assumed. There were more herbs and plants, too, growing or dangling from any available space. I didn’t want to liken it to a witch’s hovel, but…

“Take a seat, lovey,” she said, and after a brief pause, I parked myself on one of the red stone stools at her workstation—the one closest to the exit. “Would you like some tea or a tonic? To calm the nerves?”

I was a little thirsty, but also acutely aware that she could poison me. Not that I thought she would, exactly, but it kinda put me off. “No thanks.”

She nodded and sat in the seat opposite, groaning as if relieved to be off her feet. “Okay, so… let me reassure you: you are not a slave. Everyone who comes here is given work based on their skills, yes, but they are treated fairly and given shelter, food, and supplies in return. Money isn’t much of a concept here. We trade for anything we want and we share goods among the clan.”

Wow, a five-star prison. “Are we allowed to leave?”

“The planet, no. The camp, yes.”Her lips thinned. “Well, you may need permission first.”

“Then we may not be slaves, but we are prisoners.”

She held my gaze for a long moment before nodding solemnly, though not in agreement, more like reluctant defeat. “If it eases you, call it whatever you wish, my dear. I can’t tell you how to feel.”

I didn’t think she was trying to mock me or be an asshole. In fact, she was incredibly patient, taking all of my belligerent comments on the chin, but I supposed it would get tiring having to constantly defend the place you called home. I shouldn’t have cared, but this kind yet no-nonsense little woman reminded me of my grandma—the one person, besides my sister, who I used to hold the closest relationship with—and I found myself not wanting to disappoint her.

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