"Joan!" War calls after me.

I run around the tent with Yippy in my arms, going straight for my favorite tree. It's where I treated Malik. I haven't been there in a long time.

I embrace the ache in my thighs as I run. I can only hope War doesn't catch up to me, or else I'll have to lower my head and abide to his command of returning. I can't disobey him in public again because that would only inspire disobedience in other camp members.

No matter how many times I'm in his arms, no matter how many times I sass him, no matter how many times I have sex with him, I'll always be another one of his subjects.

I sit under the tree and look over my shoulder in search of him. Two Masters walk together, carrying a dead animal that would be cooked for camp. They take one look at me and make a wide berth.

I've become an enigma here. I finally matter, but not in the sense I had been hoping for.

Approaching footsteps perk my attention, because few dare to approach me nowadays. I look behind the tree and rush to my feet when I see Malik.

He stops ten feet away. "Joan. What are you doing here? It is getting late."

"Hi," I smile at his chest. "Long time no see. Would you like to sit with me?"

He palms the grip of his sword. "Interesting. I am reluctant to breathe in your direction because it would infuriate your male, and yet you still do not meet my eyes."

My male?

"It's out of respect. I cannot meet your eyes because you're higher in status. You know this, Malik."

"The General is at his knees for you. He does not even show this much devotion to the Queen, and she cannot do anything about it because he's the best soldier on Zolan."

I shuffle my feet, because while there's some truth to his words, the power feels undeserved. I'm a nobody— skilled in a few areas, averse in ones that matter such as bravery. I'm no Queen.

"Look at me," he encourages.

"I don't know..." I hesitate.

"Do it. If The General's irises did not evaporate your soul, neither will mine."

I look up. First, I see his dimpled chin, then his nose, and finally those dark red eyes of his. He's handsome and as stiff as the rest of his body.

"Hi," I say again.

"You have already greeted me. Why repeat this?"

I shake my head with a smile. "I have been trying to get in touch with you to see how you were doing."

"Why? You have concluded your lessons. There is no need for further interactions with me."

"Because you kept me company, and you were kind. I consider you a friend."

Malik tips his head to the side curiously, the short strands of hair that touch his forehead shifting with the motion. "Masters do not have friends."

I figured he would say something like that.

"Have you been well?"

"Of course. We are winning the war."

Even after all those late night evenings under candlelight and walking under the scorching sun carrying buckets of water together, there's a coldness to him. I don't know what it is about Masters, but they seem emotionally unreachable. The only one that seems unaffected is War.

"I should return to work." He looks at Yippy and then back at me. "Do not stray away from camp. It is not safe."

I nod and watch him go.

I'm surprised when half an hour passes by and War doesn't show up to rip the tree off its roots and take me away. He must be giving me time to think, or maybe he's sharpening his knives to chop me up. There's only so much of me he can take.

As I pet Yippy, I think of all the people I've encountered. Zolan wasn't the first alien planet I encountered. First, there was Tulis— a slave planet where gladiators fight to the death. I was supposed to be an exotic prize, but I got lucky and was snuck off to Zolan.

The thought of where I could have ended up humbles me to this day. It's been a rough decade, but I know there are creatures in the Universe that have had it worse.

With the air getting chillier, I decide it's time to turn back. It's not like I could hide in my tent. War would decimate it and drag me back kicking and screaming.

I walk to his tent with my head low, thinking of how disappointed I am in him. He keeps resorting to violence; instinctively acting like a simple animal while being the most complicated man I've ever come across.

Am I wrong for expecting a man made of rock to be soft?

He's sitting on his grand chair when I step inside. Still naked, thighs parted, cocks erect as if unsatisfied and angry at our unfinished business, arms crossed over his chest.

I consider running away a second time.

"Are you done with your child tantrum?"

I can't believe the audacious question. Taking a deep breath, I set Yippy down.

"It wasn't a tantrum. It was a reasonable argument. I don't like that you hurt people because of me."

"Pain is an effective form of discipline," he replies. "I would know this best. I know Masters, I know War."

"Why haven't you hurt me, then? I've disobeyed more times than we could count."

He frowns. "It is different with you."

"Is it?"

"Yes. I would never consciously hurt you. Now that we put this behind us, we must address your work. I don't want you cleaning anything around here—"

"No," I interject. "It's not over. I don't want to sweep this under the carpet. You can't beat anyone that looks at me, or keep me from befriending men like Malik. It makes me feel guilty when you hurt them because of me."

"I cannot give you these things."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Then maybe I should just return to the city. It's not like I'm contributing to the War as a servant anymore."

That grabs his attention. He stands, tipping his chair over.

"What!"

"Yes," I raise my voice. "Do I at least not have the right to travel freely? Can I not quit this job? Tell me, General. Am I your prisoner?"

He takes one step forward, one step back. He doesn't want to hear these words, but they need to be said. Our relationship— or whatever this is, is so hectic that it's negatively affecting other's lives. He was a perfect General before I crashed into his chest and distracted him.

He's not a bad male. There's peace in War, but I seem to only bring out the latter.

No matter how much I'll miss the tender moments between us, it's best if we go back to life before we bumped into each other.

Seeing that he's going to fight me tooth and nail, I continue. "I'm not happy here. I'm locked away with no job or purpose, only friends with a pet, and I have to watch my back every turn."

These things are true. I don't feel safe in camp. Entertainers are putting poison in my food, and I can't tell War about it because I know he would demand heads to roll. To protect others, I have to hurt our relationship.

"I keep you here because I am trying to make up for my mistakes. I reach whatever extreme is needed to keep you safe." One hand runs through his hair angrily.

It seems like we won't ever agree on this. "I want to leave. You can't keep me in here. I'm not a second Yippy."

Seeing that I've made up my mind makes his face fall, and then indifference hides the disappointment like an eclipse that leaves him beautiful but painful to look at.

"Do you truly want to leave me after everything we have gone through?"

How could he ask a yes or no question? This is one of the most complicated positions I've ever been in. I've never been attracted to a man like him. Of course, I don't want to leave, but it's what has to happen.

"Yes."

He turns his back and rummages through tent until he's fully dressed. His eyes never reach mine as he says, "a group will escort you to the City."

He's letting me go.

My eyes fall to his chest where they belong. I will never meet his gaze again.