Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 by Galvin, Aaron (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

toyed with her. “First, I would have you answer some of my own questions about this supposed allegiance you’ve denied having with my sister.”

Makeda stirred. “There is no allegiance between us,” she cried. “I swore myself to the crown and whoever wears it. The queen forsook her title the moment she made a vow to never return to the Salt and then stepped ashore.”

Malik tsked. “Interesting that you should claim allegiance to ‘whoever’ wears the crown, sister. I should think King Darius would be most offended by such a claim, especially since you bore no mention, or loyalty, in his name.”

“I have served the king long and loyally these many years in your absence, brother,” Makeda replied. “If King Darius were offended by my service, he has made no remark of it until now.”

“Perhaps because he only recently learned of your continued betrayal,” said Malik.

“What betrayal?” Makeda. “If you would make a claim against me, let you provide some proof, at least.”

“I have,” Malik gave a lazy wave to both covered litters his soldiers stood guard over. “Or, say rather, enough evidence to pass judgement on you and the queen.”

“Tricks, you mean,” said Makeda. “I say these litters of yours are nothing more than a ruse. A hope you maintain to pin your notions on and climb further in the people’s esteem.” She spat. “But I know your ways, brother. You will neither convince, nor fool me, into giving you a lie to strengthen yours.”

Malik sighed. “Regrettably, there are no lies hidden in these litters, sister. Only more harsh truths come to light for those bold enough to seek them out. All to strike at the heart of their meaning.”

“Strike away, then,” said Makeda. “I have no fear of your questions, or your lies.”

“Perhaps not,” said Malik. “The truth, however, as Lord Bowrider so explicitly detailed for us today, is that you did indeed have a special relationship with Recruit Garrett Weaver . . . and he is conveniently the only Orc unaccounted for among those who were sent out that night. I wonder, sister, is it possible that Recruit Weaver were taken hostage by the Nomads who killed these other Orcs?”

Makeda glowered at him. “Anything is possible.”

“Aye, it is,” said Malik, his grin widening. “I seem to remember a similar circumstance, albeit from a time long ago, when another Orc was taken captive by Nomads . . . and all others in her pod were left for slaughter. This once-captive Orc was later miraculously returned to us unharmed too. Aye, and delivered by the same savages who had murdered those loyal brother and sister seawolves from her pod. Tell me, sister . . . do you remember your own time as a prisoner among the Nomads, Makeda?”

“I remember you and your cowards fleeing that battle, brother,” said Makeda. “Just as you have continued fleeing from duty, sacrifice, and honor all your life.”

Malik continued on, unbothered. “So, you do recall spending time among the Nomads . . .”

“Aye,” Makeda squirmed at her post. “As any prisoner must do when held against their will.”

“And yet when you returned to this glorious city, one might think you would have received a hero’s welcome,” Malik played to the crowd. “One to not only risk the Nomad hostiles, but to survive them too!”

“One might think that,” Makeda acknowledged. “But they would be wrong, wouldn’t they?”

“They would indeed,” said Malik. “For instead of being paraded about the city and lauded for your bravery, you retreated from public life for a lengthy time thereafter. Why?”

Makeda’s cheeks tightened. “‘An Orc without her pod is nothing,’” she said finally. “I learned the true meaning of such words that day when the Nomads slew all others in my pod and took me captive. When I returned here to my home . . . I was ashamed for living when all others from my pod did not. Though I doubt shame is something you would know anything of, brother.”

“A tragic story, I grant you,” said Malik dryly. “And I do not doubt you mourned your fellows Orcs, sister.”

“But . . .” Makeda insisted, as if knowing her brother held some deeper intent.

Sydney thought that Malik proved the pod mother’s intuitions a moment later.

“But,” Malik smirked. “I think the likelier, truer story, sister, is that you were impregnated by a savage lover, and then you carried his bastard in your belly all the way back to the heart of our beloved city . . .”

Garrett . . . Sydney took Malik’s meaning to bear, along with all others in the crowd. The whispers were rampant now, even as Makeda voiced her disagreement, sticking with the defense of her shame at being a lone survivor.

Malik’s ever-widening grin signaled to Sydney that he recognized the tide of rumors and doubt, at least, had shifted toward him also. He turned toward the queen next. “My sister’s return from the hostiles was near enough to the time that you opted to swear your vows and go ashore also, was it not, my queen?”

Nattie gave him no answer.

“Most curious,” said Malik. “I believe you once said that your daughter, the princess, and Recruit Garrett Weaver were friends in your life ashore too, no? And that your daughter’s return to the Salt was to rescue him from Selkie slavers?”

“It was,” said Nattie quietly.

Malik shrugged. “And yet you then abandoned your only son. You left our sweet prince ashore to go out and search for your daughter instead. Tell us, my queen, why did you choose the safety of the Princess Sydney over safeguarding your son?”

“I did not abandon the prince,” Nattie argued. “I left him with others I trust to look after his protection.”

“And yet all those you claim to trust are here, yes?” Malik nodded toward those in the prisoner cells.

“Many are,” said Nattie. “Not all.”

“Who then to guard your son, my queen?” Malik asked. “My seawolves looked above and beneath the Salt for Prince Jun. We questioned all those we brought here too, yet none