Her skin itched like crazy, and she wanted to scratch it.
“You must be thirsty,” the man said.
“I want to leave.”
“You aren’t fully healed yet.” He stepped closer.
She whipped the tool up. “Don’t touch me.”
The doctor lifted his hands, nothing but patience on his face.
Then a wave of dizziness made Mal stagger.
“You need more rest. I did what I could, but you have a concussion, as well. And your physiology is new to me.” The doctor shrugged. “I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker. I don’t know the baselines for your species yet, but I suspect your vitals are elevated.”
Species?
God. None of this mattered. She needed to find Poppy. The room spun sideways, her skin itched even more, and her head throbbed like someone had hit it with a hammer.
Mal gritted her teeth. “I have to go.”
Poppy was smart, but if confronted by a giant, snarling beast, she couldn’t fight it. She had no killer instinct.
Mal’s knees turned to cooked noodles, and she clutched the bed.
The doctor shifted closer. “You’re feeling dizzy?”
She only saw concern on the man’s face. She gripped the bed to stay upright and nodded. “It doesn’t matter. I need to find my friend.”
“Friend?”
She nodded. “My ship crashed. I wasn’t alone. There was a scientist with me. Dr. Poppy Ellison.”
Sympathy crossed the man’s face. She hated seeing it, hated the ugly feeling it caused in her gut.
“I’m sorry. From what I hear, your ship was a tangled wreck and there were no other survivors.”
No. Mal’s gut clenched so hard that she felt sick.
Poppy.
Sorrow swamped her.
“Do you have any other symptoms?” the medica asked.
“My skin is itchy,” she said dully. “I have a metallic taste in my mouth.” The words felt ripped out of her. She hated showing any weakness.
“I’ll run some scans.”
She met his gaze. “Where am I?”
“You’re in my medica ward, in the royal palace in the city of Citadel. On the planet of Zhalto in the Sarkany System.”
All of which meant nothing to her.
“I’ve never heard of Zhalto.” She tugged on her wrist. “And this?”
“Until you’re questioned by the overlord, you are to be restrained. We are at war, and there are some fears that you’re an enemy agent.”
Mal let out a choked laugh. Her test had gone wrong, she’d been flung across the galaxy, and now she’d crash landed in the middle of a war.
Wow. She really couldn’t catch a break.
“What’s your name?” The man’s voice was gentle.
She sighed. “Mallory. Mallory West.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mallory. I’m Tavith.”
“Ah, thanks for fixing me up.”
“That’s my pleasure.”
“And I go by Mal.” She scratched her arm. The itch was getting worse.
“May I scan you? I’d like to help you feel better.”
“Sure. Why not?” If he’d wanted to kill her, he would’ve done it by now.
Tavith touched a band on his wrist, and she watched a blue projection flare up into the air.
“Oh, wow.” She stared at the incomprehensible alien writing.
He frowned as he studied it. “Hmm, something is stimulating an immune response from your body.” He reached over and grabbed something off the trolley. “Here. This should help.”
He pressed the patch to her skin on her arm. It dissolved away. A second later, the itching stopped, and her head cleared.
A warm sensation flowed through her, and she grinned. It felt like she’d knocked back a shot of tequila. “Wow, Doc, that is some potent stuff.”
“It’s not for a normal Zhalton.” He eyed her. “Drink this.”
She sipped the clear fluid. It tasted like water.
Slowly, the high sensation faded and left her feeling good, energized. “Tavith, I won’t give up on my friend unless I see her body. I made it, so she could have as well.”
The doctor frowned. “You need to discuss that with the overlord.”
Well, if she was going to meet some alien king, she wanted to be dressed in more than her underwear. “Do you have any clothes I can wear?”
With a nod, the doctor hurried away. She heard him rummaging around in a closet, then he returned, holding some folded clothes. With her arm still tethered, she awkwardly pulled on a pair of loose trousers. Next was a sleeveless, wrap-style shirt that she wrapped around her torso and tied up on the side. Her arm didn’t even have to be freed for her to get it on.
“Thank you. I could do with some fresh air.” AKA, scope out her surroundings and plan a way out.
The medica nodded. He untethered her arm, leaving the red band around her wrist. She tried to see what he’d done and how it unfastened, but it just seemed to obey his touch.
He led her to a door near the windows. He touched the lock, and she felt a flare of energy. The door shimmered and just disappeared. Cool.
Tavith waved her onto a small balcony.
Mal stepped outside and her stomach fell away. “Oh, my God.”
Wind tugged at her loose hair. It was a playful breeze, laden with interesting and unusual smells.
The city was set in a tight, circular valley. Glittering, white-stone buildings tumbled down all sides of the mountains, forming a bowl.
It was stunning. Like something from a fairytale. In several places, waterfalls poured downward. Mal moved to the ornate, carved railing and leaned over. A placid, blue lake lay far below. Several bridges crisscrossed between the grand, beautiful buildings. She saw people walking along various terraces, wearing clothes of bright colors with touches of gold, silver, and bronze. From somewhere close by, haunting, beautiful string music floated up to her.
“Welcome to Citadel,” Tavith said.
She couldn’t form any words. She heard a faint sound and looked up. A red-tinged sun hung overhead, and a second later, a ship appeared.
She sucked in a breath, her lips tilting upward. It had a sleek, central body, with two arched wings. The wings had large circles cut out of them and blue energy crackled in the space. She turned her head, trying to take everything in. A wide, main bridge led up to what she guessed was the palace. A man was walking across it. Several people were with him, some jogging to keep up with his long strides.
He seemed familiar.
Mal’s heart skipped a beat or two. One thing was for sure, he was a female fantasy come to life.
He walked like a man in charge. Muscle corded his powerful body. She recognized a fighter—built for strength. He wore black, fitted pants tucked into boots. A fitted black shirt edged with red molded across his broad form. Someone said something to him, and he turned his head.
Wow.
He was close enough that she could take in the strong jaw, sharp blade of his nose, and just enough ruggedness to pique her interest. She’d never been one for pretty boys.
His dark hair was a little long, giving him a masculine, sexy appeal. He was designed to make a female sit up and take notice.
She couldn’t see his eyes from here, but she knew that they’d be silver.