Page 58 of The Thren's Fated

As Lena glanced around the room, she realized that all four of them were staring at her, causing a shiver to run down her spine, and not a pleasant one.

The Sovereign jerked his eyes back to Screl with a vicious glare.

“So this is the human,” he said with a sharp bite. “The space station has been hounding us for days about her.”

“Sovereign, I can explain⁠—”

Screl’s protests were silenced by a deep bellow that echoed through the room.

“Silence! Bring her to me!”

The Sovereign didn’t appear to speak to anyone in particular, but a few seconds later Lena felt a muscular Thren grab her shoulders from behind. She struggled, thrashing against her captor, but it was useless, as it always seemed to be with these aliens.

Screl watched her with wide eyes as the Thren forced her onto the platform, leading her past the other royals before pushing her in front of the Sovereign. Her legs trembled, and she was afraid they’d give out at any moment. She winced as the Sovereign reached out with a massive tentacle, tilting her chin up to face him.

Lena saw a flash in his eyes and suddenly he had all four of his appendages wrapped around her, running through her hair and circling her neck and arms. She tried to jerk away, cringing from the unwelcome contact, but it was in vain.

Though she had become used to the touch of Screl, even comforted by it, the Sovereign’s was completely different, emanating with malice as he prodded her.

“I knew allowing you to fraternize with the humans was a mistake,” he hissed, his eyes back on Screl. “My advisors told me we needed to make allies, but it has just made you weak. You care too much about such fragile, pathetic creatures.”

The Sovereign drew Lena closer as his tentacles continued to brush over her face and body.

“Please, Sovereign, it is my fault. The human had nothing to do with this. I am the one who deserves punishment,” Screl pleaded, taking a step forward.

The Sovereign shook his head, though he released Lena and pushed her toward the right. The two princes grabbed her and pulled her back against them, their tentacles roving over her body lecherously. She tensed her muscles, though she didn’t bother to fight this time, knowing it would be fruitless.

“Oh, offspring, you will certainly be punished,” the Sovereign said, and with a flick of a tentacle, two large Threns escorted Screl onto the platform.

He didn’t struggle as he stood to face his father, his shoulders slumped in acceptance. Fear roiled in Lena’s stomach as the Sovereign pulled a large mace from his waistbelt, a long metal shaft topped with a vicious spiked head. Without warning, he brought the mace down onto Screl’s shoulder with a sickening thud, and she gasped, a jolt of pain charging through her as if she had been hit.

Screl winced at the blow, but did not buckle. The Sovereign raised his arm again and delivered another savage strike, though Screl still did not falter.

Lena watched in horror as he brought down hit after hit against the commander’s body, her teeth chattering with each blow. The pain seemed real, but it couldn’t be. How could it? He was the one being attacked, not her.

After the tenth strike, Screl finally fell to his knees.

There was a low hum emanating from his body, and she could sense his pain as if it were her own. It was excruciating, making it difficult to breathe, and she grimaced at the sight of him, his shirt torn and dark spots blooming on the thin fabric.

The Sovereign raised his arm once again, and Lena finally found her voice.

“Stop!” she yelled, fighting with all her remaining strength against the two princes who restrained her. “Please, stop! You’re going to kill him!”

“Stay quiet,” a voice hissed, though she was almost certain no one had spoken.

Every Thren eye turned toward her, even Screl’s from his place hunched over on the floor, and the Sovereign cocked his head at her outburst.

“Father, I believe Rohieth has had enough,” one of the royals said with a high-pitched voice, and Lena was certain it must be Screl’s sister.

Slowly, the Sovereign lowered his arm; the mace returning to its spot on his waistbelt. She heard laughter from all around her as he approached. An ugly glare rippled across his face as he wrapped one tentacle around her throat and squeezed, just enough to make her uncomfortable.

“You are lucky that my foolish offspring chose a human of such little import to take. If you were an Alliance employee, this might have ruined the Peace Accords. Either way, you will be back where you belong soon enough,” he growled, his eyes spiteful shards of fury.

Screl tried to stand, but crumpled back to the ground all too quickly, groaning as the stinging pain melded with the deep ache of bruised muscles.

Somehow she felt his agony, but not the full force of it, more like an echo that didn’t quite deliver the full punch of intensity that surely would have ended her.

“Remove them,” the Sovereign spat, again to no one in particular, but the effect was immediate.