Survive the Games, Become the Alien King’s Queen

Mara Veyne was halfway through locking the greenhouse when the sky split open. A streak of violet light tore through the clouds, turning midnight into a strange, bruised daylight. The glass panes rattled around her. Every light in the small Michigan town died at once. Mara froze with the key still caught in the lock. The ground trembled beneath her boots. Her first thought was a storm. Her second was that storms did not make the stars disappear. A vast black shape drifted across the sky, too smooth and silent to be an aircraft. It swallowed the moon as it moved. Blue-white lights flared beneath its hull, sweeping across the fields and neighboring houses. The beam stopped on her. “Oh, hell no.” Mara dropped the keys and ran. She made it three steps. Pain snapped around her wrist. A silver band appeared against her skin, seamless and burning cold. Glowing symbols raced across its surface. A voice spoke directly inside her head. EARTH REPRESENTATIVE CONFIRMED. Mara clawed at the band. “Representative for what?” TRANSPORT COMMENCING. The world vanished. Her stomach seemed to remain behind as her body was ripped upward. Darkness consumed her for one terrible second before she slammed onto a hard metal floor. Mara gasped and rolled onto her back. She was no longer outside the greenhouse. She lay inside a circular chamber surrounded by transparent walls. Beyond them, rows of towering creatures watched from elevated platforms. Aliens. There was no other word for them. Some had scales. Others had fur, horns, wings, or translucent skin through which pulsing organs could be seen. A thin creature with four golden eyes leaned close to Mara’s enclosure, studying her like something trapped beneath a glass. Mara stumbled upright. “What is this?” Her voice shook, but she forced herself to stand straight. Twenty-three other transparent cells surrounded the chamber. Each contained someone—or something—different. A blue-skinned female with webbed hands pressed both palms against the glass. A horned male paced like a caged bull. One enormous creature had six limbs and a mouth filled with curved black teeth. Every contestant wore the same silver band. A holographic figure appeared above the center of the chamber. He was tall, broad, and dressed in dark armor edged with silver. Black hair brushed his shoulders. Sharp cheekbones and pointed ears made him almost beautiful, but there was nothing gentle about him. A jagged crown rested upon his head. The crowd fell silent. “Subjects of the Varyxian Empire,” the hologram announced. “The ninety-third Sovereign Games will commence at first light.” The words reached Mara in English despite the strange movements of his mouth. The alien continued. “Twenty-four worlds have submitted a contestant. One will earn freedom, citizenship, and eternal honor. The others will serve the empire through sacrifice.” Mara stared upward. Submitted? No one on Earth had submitted her. The hologram’s silver eyes swept over the contestants. Although it was only a projection, Mara felt as though his gaze paused on her. “Survive,” he said. “And your world will be rewarded.” A line of text ignited across the glass in front of Mara. MARA VEYNE SPECIES: HUMAN HOMEWORLD: EARTH SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 0.04% Laughter erupted from the viewing platforms. Mara’s fear hardened into anger. She raised her middle finger toward the nearest spectators. The laughter stopped. The four-eyed alien tilted its head. “Translate that,” someone demanded. Mara smiled without humor. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” A chime echoed through the chamber. The hologram disappeared, and darkness swallowed the observation platforms. Mara turned toward the other cells. The blue-skinned female was still watching her. “Do you understand me?” Mara asked. The female touched the silver band around her wrist. “The bind translates.” Her voice sounded soft and watery. “What happens now?” “We are processed.” “That doesn’t sound promising.” “It is not.” The horned male slammed a fist against his enclosure. “Save your breath, human. You will be dead before the first sun reaches its height.” Mara looked at the survival percentage glowing before her. “Then you won’t have to listen to me for long.” His nostrils flared. The blue female almost smiled. A panel opened in the floor. A narrow tray rose from below, carrying a cup of water and a gray block that might have been food. Mara ignored both. She examined the walls instead. No visible seams. No hinges. No control panel. The band resisted when she tried to slide a fingernail beneath it. The metal tightened until her fingers went numb. “Do not remove it,” the blue female warned. “It controls access to the arenas.” “And if I do remove it?” “You die.” “Of course I do.” Mara paced the small enclosure, measuring it with her steps. Six feet across. Eight high. The ceiling glowed faintly. “What’s your name?” she asked. “Sela Norr.” “Mara.” “I know. Your glass announced you.” “Right.” Sela glanced toward the surrounding darkness. “You truly do not know why you are here?” “No.” “Earth was conquered eleven days ago.” Mara stopped pacing. “No, it wasn’t.” “The empire marked your planet and claimed its resources. Your leaders accepted the terms.” “That would have been on the news.” Sela’s expression softened with pity. “Conquered populations are rarely informed before collection.” Mara’s pulse hammered. Her mother was asleep less than a mile from the greenhouse. Her younger brother was stationed at a military base in another state. Neither of them knew where she had gone. They might never know. Mara pressed her palm against the glass and forced herself to breathe. Panic would not get her home. Information might. “How do the Games work?” Sela glanced toward the horned male before answering. “The arenas change. Each round removes contestants. Sometimes through combat. Sometimes through predators, hunger, poison, or terrain.” “And only one person leaves?” “That is the promise.” The horned male laughed. “It is a lie.” Sela lowered her voice. “No contestant has survived the final round in twenty-one cycles.” Mara looked toward the place where the crowned alien’s image had hovered. “He knows?” “King Kaelor knows everything that occurs within his empire.” “Then he’s responsible.” Far above the processing chamber, King Kaelor Varek watched the human woman condemn him. The observation room was silent except for the faint hum of the viewing screen. Kaelor sat rigidly upon the black stone throne, one hand curled around its armrest. The metal beneath his fingers had already begun to bend. On the screen, Mara Veyne stood inside her cell with her chin raised and terror hidden behind fury. A human. His mate was human. The recognition had struck the instant she appeared in the transport chamber. A burning sensation had carved through his chest before settling around his heart like a living chain. The ancient bond his species considered sacred had chosen a female from an untested world. A female already entered into the Games. “Your Majesty?” Commander Zarek said carefully. Kaelor did not answer. Mara reached for the gray ration, sniffed it, and grimaced. Kaelor’s claws extended. “Who authorized Earth’s collection?” Chancellor Vorak stood near the council table, his hands folded inside crimson robes. “The selection was automated according to imperial law.” “Who authorized it?” Vorak hesitated. “I approved the planetary claim.” Kaelor turned his head. Every official in the room went still. The chancellor attempted a smile. “Surely the human is of no importance. Her survival projection is the lowest recorded this cycle.” Kaelor rose. At nearly seven feet tall, he towered over the council. Dark markings spread across his throat as the mating bond reacted to the threat. “Recalculate it.” “The figures are based on biological—” “Recalculate it.” Vorak bowed stiffly. “At once.” Zarek moved to Kaelor’s side as the council members hurried from the room. “You cannot remove her,” his brother murmured. “I know the law.” “Royal interference after selection requires the execution of every active contestant.” Kaelor looked back at the screen. Mara sat beside the glass, speaking quietly to the aquatic female. She appeared small among the empire’s deadliest species. Too small. Too breakable. Yet when the horned contestant insulted her again, Mara smiled at him as though she had already decided how to kill him. Something fierce and unfamiliar stirred inside Kaelor’s chest. “When does the first round begin?” he asked. “At dawn.” “What arena?” “The Erythian Wilds.” Kaelor’s blood cooled. The Wilds were filled with venomous plants, unstable ground, and nocturnal beasts capable of tearing armored soldiers apart. “Change it.” Zarek’s expression tightened. “That would be interference.” “Then find me a lawful reason.” “There may not be one.” Kaelor stepped closer to the screen. Mara suddenly lifted her head. The cameras were hidden, but she looked directly toward the lens. Directly at him. Her hazel eyes narrowed. Kaelor had faced assassins, rebellions, and armies without fear. Now one human woman stared through a camera, and the most powerful ruler in the galaxy felt completely helpless. An alarm sounded within the processing chamber. The contestants’ cells opened. Sela reached through the gap and grabbed Mara’s hand. “Run when the gate rises,” she warned. “Do not stop for anyone.” The floor split apart beneath them, revealing a massive transport platform. Artificial wind swept through the chamber, carrying the scents of wet earth and blood. A roar shook the walls. Mara stared into the dark jungle waiting below. Somewhere inside it, something enormous moved between the trees. A countdown appeared across the air. TEN. Mara tightened her grip on Sela’s hand. NINE. The horned male lowered his head, preparing to charge. EIGHT. High above them, Kaelor pressed his palm against the viewing screen. SEVEN. For the first time since taking the throne, he prayed to gods he had never believed in. SIX. Mara looked toward the royal camera once more. “Watch closely, Your Majesty,” she whispered. FIVE. Then she smiled. “I’m not dying for you.”