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Sandy was still in the manor. She was in one of the back rooms in his mother’s half – a side he rarely visited, and when he did, it was only when escorted by Orza or Kirs. Of course, his mother would want to keep her close. Somehow, knowing where she was kept just made being separated from her that much harder.
There was no practice today. It was their last day of rest before they started training for the final championship match. That just meant that he was doing nothing, lying on his bed, eyes closed, imagining his mate was laid out beside him.
Imagining what their life could be…
He pictured a home, smaller than the manor but still as comfortable and luxurious as his female deserved, tucked back into the trees. Quiet and isolated, like she preferred. He imagined all the fun they’d have every day. Going to his games, having their small adventures. He imagined her belly round with a youngling they’d conceived in love and freedom for no other reason than they wanted one.
It was a good dream. So realistic in his mind that it hurt his heart even as he smiled, getting completely lost in it.
That was why it was so completely jarring when the door suddenly opened and Kirs was just there, grabbing him by the neck and yanking him up. Rane was thrown unceremoniously to the floor. Before he could gather himself, a horrible yanking on his crest made him cry out as his head was jerked back even as a foot on his back kept him down. He was forced to look up at his mother who was positively incandescent with rage.
“What have you done?!” She shrieked, slapping him across the face. The burn left in the wake of her claws was worsened by the heat of his blood trickling down his cheek.
“Wha-Ugh!”
She did it again, across the same cheek, not even giving him a chance to ask what she was talking about.
“You’re ruining everything! You and that human whore!”
Slap!
At least it was across the opposite cheek this time. Rane couldn’t do anything but grit his teeth against the pain as he struggled to figure out what was going on.
“I don’t understand,” he grunted, neck aching as he tried to arch his back to relieve some of that terrible pressure on his crest feathers.
“Oh,” his mother laughed, but the sound was deranged. “You don’t understand?! You really expect me to believe you had nothing to do with it?!”
“I’ve done nothing. You’ve been watching me! I did-Mph!”
He was cut off by his mother grabbing his face, her claws digging into his cheeks as she smushed his mouth, cutting off his words.
“Don’t you dare talk back to me. I am your mother. And you are going to fix this mess before it gets any worse, or I am going to start giving your mate back to you in pieces!”
Rane didn’t know what he was supposed to have done. He had no idea what was even happening. All he could do was mutter a muffled agreement. Anything to keep Sandy safe.
“I’m calling a press conference,” Elffa snarled, standing straight. “You are going to go, and you are going to tell everyone that the rumors are untrue. Your mate is just fine. You are just fine. You are going to do anything you have to in order to make them believe that the only reason she hasn’t been seen is because she chose it. I don’t care what you have to say or how you have to humiliate yourself to make it happen, but you will or she suffers. Understand?!”
“Yes, mother,” Rane grunted, mind racing quickly. What rumors?
“Good.” Elffa hissed through clenched teeth. “Get him cleaned up and put through a medscanner. He can’t go into a conference with those marks on his face. But just to remind him what’s at stake, leave a few where the cameras won’t see.”
Kirs didn’t respond verbally, but as his mother turned, Rane roared in agony as streaking lines of pain burned down his back. The metallic scent of his blood filled the air as Kirs dragged his toe claws down his flesh, ripping him open mercilessly.
A reminder of what they could do to Sandy if they so chose. His small, fragile human mate. She wouldn’t be able to tolerate the weight of a full grown ratchi on her back, much less being used as a scratching mat.
Rane took it without complaint, except for his cries of pain that he made no attempt to stifle. His agony was what his mother wanted, after all. If he gave it to her, maybe she wouldn’t try to get it from Sandy instead.
***
A mark and a half later, Rane was sitting at a table, a sea of combots and news reporters all looking at him expectantly. The lights were blinding, the room was stifling, his back was in absolute agony, though his face was fully healed.
But he finally understood, a little, what was going on.
Yesterday, a news column had written a story on him about how well he had been doing in games and practice while being completely unproblematic. It had been a very good story, depicting him in a good light in probably the first time since the beginning of his career. It credited him for the strides he’d made towards complete sobriety and responsibility, and even suggested that he might very well soon be able to get out from under his guardianship.
It then proceeded to suggest that his human mate, though her fashion sense was odd, and she came from a blatantly sexualized species, might be the cause.
Nothing unusual. It was actually rather nice.
