Sword Empire Read Online Free Page A

sound.
    â€œI am sure you have all the usual social skills, Commander—but can you replace a dancing tree bear?”

CHAPTER TWO
    Maryam stood by the tall window that looked out onto the vast Space Corps barrack square below, and felt the cold fist of fear twisting more tightly in her stomach. On the far side of the square stood the great steel Sword of the empire. The cross piece of the massive hilt was more than four times the height of the tallest man, and the point of the blade soared half as high again as the mightiest temples of Karakhor. The blade had an evil silver gleam in the cold sunshine, but she was not looking across or up at that merciless symbol of power.
    A woman had been walking across the otherwise empty and snow-dappled square, but now she had stopped to stare back at the watching Hindu princess. She was tall with long, wild black hair, and savage, coal-black eyes. She wore a laced-up leather jerkin and leggings, the same clothes that Maryam herself now wore, the common garb of most Gheddan women. On her wrists were metal-studded leather wrist guards, and at her hip a long-bladed knife in its leather sheath. Her lips were painted green, a fashionable colour with the blue-skinned women, and she twisted them into a mocking sneer and deliberately spat toward the high window.
    â€œWho is that woman?” Maryam demanded with a flash of anger.
    Her question distracted Raven from his frustrated pacing around the room. In the three days since they had arrived in this soulless and depressing place, he had been like a caged cat, barely able to restrain his fury. She knew it was dangerous to provoke him, but her own feelings badly needed an outlet.
    He changed direction and came to stand beside her.
    â€œHer name is Sylve,” he said dispassionately. “She is nothing.”
    They were both visible in the window and Sylve glared up at them for another moment before flinging her head back haughtily and marching on. Raven’s iron grip on her arm turned Maryam away from the window.
    â€œShe hates me,” Maryam said flatly. “Yesterday in the market, she spat at my feet. Just now she spat toward me again. Every time she sees me, she spits.” She glared at Raven as he looked into her accusing eyes. “But she is afraid of you. She was your woman.”
    â€œIt is past. It is of no consequence,” Raven shrugged.
    â€œNot to you. But I think she would kill me if she gets the chance.”
    â€œThen do not give her any opportunity,” Raven said bluntly.
    Maryam glared at him and then jerked her arm free of his grip. In Karakhor, she would have stamped her foot, thrown something, or run to her mother, but Karakhor and Earth were both far behind her. In addition to learning his language, she had learned much of the rough ways of this planet, and she knew that such behaviour here would only provoke his laughter.
    She threw herself onto one of the long couches that, with a scattering of cushions and rugs, and one eating table, made up the room’s sparse furniture. Then she sat upright with her elbows propped on her knees and her chin cupped in her hands, feeling miserable. She was no longer sure that it had been such a good idea to follow him to this cold and hostile world. Far from cementing an alliance that would save Karakhor, it now seemed unlikely that she would ever see her homeworld again. As her doubts had multiplied, she had determined not to weep, but sometimes it was hard to keep her tears inside.
    There was also the growing uncertainty about Raven’s feelings toward her.
    He kept her by his side, but there was a coldness within him that had begun to frighten her. Only when they made love did it seem that he really needed her and at first she had matched his fierce passion with her own. Being the King’s first daughter had kept her virginal too long, and once unleashed, she had delighted in the rapture he had brought to her own swift-flowering womanhood.